Fan Changyu quickly set down the bowl to pat his back: “How did you choke?”
The patting only made things worse—Xie Zheng immediately leaned over the bed and coughed up a mouthful of dark red blood.
Fan Changyu was frightened. She looked at her hand, then at Xie Zheng, before turning to shout toward the tent entrance: “Physician! Quick, call the physician, someone’s coughing up blood!”
The guard stationed outside lifted the tent flap to look, and upon seeing the bloodstains, ran to chase after the military physician who had left just moments ago.
The other wounded soldiers in the tent began discussing among themselves, some saying this was Xie Zheng’s final flourish before death, while others told Fan Changyu not to worry too much and wait for the physician’s assessment.
Fan Changyu hastily wiped the blood from Xie Zheng’s lips with a handkerchief, one hand tightly gripping his, murmuring, “It’s alright, it’s alright…”
It wasn’t clear whether she was reassuring Xie Zheng or herself.
The blood that had been congesting Xie Zheng’s chest for days had finally been expelled through this bout of coughing. The pressure in his chest suddenly eased, making breathing much easier, though the forceful coughing had likely reopened his wound—blood was beginning to seep through the bandages.
He glanced at Fan Changyu’s hand gripping his own. His lips, previously bloodless, now bore a bright stain from the coughed-up blood, making his face appear even more pallid—a sight that inexplicably wrenched at one’s heart.
With half-lowered eyes, he asked weakly: “You want to divorce me?”
Fan Changyu’s eyes welled with tears: “No divorce, no divorce!”
Her voice even carried a sob: “You were conscripted because you entered into marriage with me. If we had talked properly that day and you had signed the divorce papers, the officials wouldn’t have taken you, and you wouldn’t be injured like this. Don’t be afraid—now that you’re in this state, I won’t abandon you. I’ve thought it all through on the way here: if you die here, I’ll tend to your remains. Your family is gone now, but I’ll make offerings to you during festivals…”
As she spoke, perhaps truly afraid the person before her might die here, large tears fell onto the bedding, leaving small wet marks.
A hand pressed against her back, and she was pulled into an embrace that smelled of blood and herbs.
Fan Changyu, worried about pressing against his wound, tried to push away with her hands on his shoulders, but Xie Zheng tightened his arms even more, holding her flush against himself. He rested his chin on her slightly trembling shoulder and said hoarsely: “Don’t move.”
Afraid of aggravating his injuries, Fan Changyu didn’t dare move, but her chest was filled with indescribable emotions that made it feel tight. Tears fell uncontrollably, landing on the fabric of his shoulder.
Xie Zheng said: “Don’t cry. I’m happy you came to find me.”
After a pause, he added: “I’m sorry about that day.”
Fan Changyu knew what he meant and was about to speak when the tent flap was lifted. The guard hurriedly brought in the military physician, and Gongsun Yin, worried about Xie Zheng’s condition, had also come to check. Seeing the scene before them, they all stood rooted to the spot with varying expressions.
Fan Changyu turned her head at the sound and realized the other wounded soldiers were also staring at them intently. Her face reddened, and she quickly pushed Xie Zheng back onto the cot. The sudden movement drew a muffled groan from him, and Fan Changyu hastily withdrew her hands: “Did I hurt you?”
Xie Zheng, pale-faced, said it was nothing.
A veteran soldier in the tent helped ease the awkwardness with a laugh: “The young couple just went through a brush with death—they’re still shaken!”
The other wounded soldiers also chuckled good-naturedly.
The physician came forward to inquire about Xie Zheng’s blood-coughing symptoms and check his pulse again. Not daring to make assumptions, he only said it was due to weakness, that his vital energy was severely depleted and needed nourishment and care.
“Weakness, eh…” Gongsun Yin cast a teasing look at Xie Zheng, stroking his chin as he said: “Have the kitchen make some meat dishes for the wounded soldiers—they all need proper nourishment.”
All the wounded in the tent expressed their profound gratitude.
Gongsun Yin continued: “We should separate the seriously wounded from those with lighter injuries into different tents. It will make it easier for the physicians to prepare medicines.”
He pointed at Xie Zheng: “The soldiers just set up several new tents for the Ji Prefecture troops who came up the mountain. They’re not far from here—this man can be moved to one of the new tents.”
Xie Zheng shot him a cold glance, to which Gongsun Yin responded with a sly smile.
Since Xie Zheng was injured, several guards disguised as common soldiers carried him, bed and all, to the newly erected tent.
Fan Changyu followed and was surprised to find that although the tent contained many cots, no one else was currently stationed there.
Gongsun Yin explained that they would gradually move other seriously wounded soldiers here as they were discovered.
When Fan Changyu went to the kitchen to help collect food for the wounded, Gongsun Yin sat down on a cot opposite Xie Zheng and raised an eyebrow, asking: “Should I arrange a separate tent for the young lady, or let her stay here with you?”
Xie Zheng had just drunk a bowl of medicine and his mouth was still bitter. He sat up to pour himself a cup of water, drank it, and after holding the cup and contemplating for a moment, said: “Arrange separate quarters for her.”
Gongsun Yin smiled: “That works. I almost forgot—there’s still a little one at my place. Now that her sister has come, the two sisters can stay together.”
Thinking of the scene he’d witnessed earlier when lifting the tent flap, he couldn’t help teasing: “That spear wound seems worth it now—the young lady even cried for you. There must be real feelings there…”
At this point, his voice suddenly faltered as he looked at Xie Zheng: “When Sui Yuanqing learned of your relationship with her, he thought to use her sister to threaten you. If Wei Yan also catches wind of this… you know his methods.”
Xie Zheng’s fingers suddenly tightened around the clay cup as he said: “Suppress all news of today’s events. Not a word is to leak out.”
Gongsun Yin said: “Only the physician and your few personal guards know. Those guards were promoted by you—they’re very tight-lipped. I’ve already warned the physician and had him watch these past two days. There shouldn’t be any problems. But those wounded soldiers in the tent all know that young lady came looking for you. If they learn of your identity, it could be troublesome…”
Xie Zheng said: “Then we’ll keep it from them for now.”
Gongsun Yin asked: “What about Miss Fan?”
Xie Zheng half-lifted his eyelids: “I will find an opportunity to explain everything to her.”
Gongsun Yin said: “As long as you have a plan.”
After he left, Xie Zheng lay staring at the tent ceiling for a long while, lost in thought.
He wasn’t certain that Fan Changyu would still choose to be with him after learning everything.
Fan Changyu might accept the penniless Yan Zheng, but not necessarily Xie Zheng with his deep blood feuds.
Her current kindness toward him largely stemmed from guilt, believing he had been forced into military service to avoid causing trouble for her and the neighbors.
Once she learned he had intended to return to the army anyway, that guilt would completely disappear.
He knew how much she cared for her sister, and because of him, her sister had fallen into evil hands and nearly lost her life.
He wasn’t sure if she would resent him, but he was certain that if she chose to stay with him, such incidents would likely happen again.
Given her nature, she might well distance herself from him just to ensure her sister could live peacefully. She preferred tranquility, as she had once said—finding a modest, humble scholar as a husband and living a peaceful life.
Her current kindness toward him felt like something he had stolen.
Like a thief, he would eventually be exposed.
He understood the consequences, but when he thought of her crying face and her words, his heart couldn’t help but flutter.
He had never so desperately wanted something while simultaneously being so afraid of losing it.
For a moment, Xie Zheng even wished he was just Yan Zheng.
In the end, his lips only curved into a self-mocking smile—
Fan Changyu returned carrying food to find Xie Zheng with one hand over his eyes, appearing to be asleep.
As she approached, he lowered his arm and looked at her.
Fan Changyu smiled at him: “You’re awake? The kitchen caught quite a few wild chickens and made chicken soup for the wounded soldiers. Drink it while it’s hot.”
She held the large bowl in one hand while supporting him with the other. Xie Zheng’s face was extremely pale from blood loss, with dark circles under his eyes from several sleepless nights, but his features were so fine that even in this state, he possessed a certain fragile beauty in his haggard appearance.
After Xie Zheng leaned back against the pillow, he reached for the bowl to drink himself, but Fan Changyu fed him with a spoon just as she had with the medicine earlier.
Xie Zheng hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth to drink, then imperceptibly furrowed his brows.
—It was scalding hot.
But Fan Changyu seemed completely unaware of this issue, as she had never fed anyone soup or medicine before. When her parents passed away, Changning was already five years old and didn’t need help with eating or taking medicine.
The earlier medicine had cooled considerably, but this soup had just come from the kitchen, and with the wooden bowl, she couldn’t gauge the temperature.
When the second spoonful reached Xie Zheng’s lips, he moved his mouth as if to speak but stopped himself, still drinking it. Then he reached for the bowl: “Let me do it myself.”
Fan Changyu looked at his sickly face and felt sympathy. She refused to give him the bowl, stirred the soup with the wooden spoon, and lifted another spoonful, saying: “You’re so badly injured—just rest. I’ll feed you.”
Xie Zheng looked at the steaming spoonful of soup before him and finally resigned himself to drinking it.
By the time she finished feeding him the bowl of chicken soup, his tongue was completely scalded.
Fan Changyu looked at the empty wooden bowl and felt an oddly strong sense of accomplishment.
She had taken such good care of him!
When Xie Zheng wanted to pour a cup of cold tea, she rushed to do it for him, but asked confusedly while handing it over: “You just had a bowl of chicken soup—are you still thirsty?”
Xie Zheng made up an excuse: “The gamey taste was a bit strong—just want to wash it down.”
There was still a bit of soup left in the bowl, and Fan Changyu took a sip, discovering that no salt had been added to the chicken soup at all, making it almost unpalatable due to the gamey taste.
She frowned and said: “The kitchen must have been too busy and forgot to add salt. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Xie Zheng was silent for a moment, his expression becoming grave as he said: “There is no salt.”
Fan Changyu was stunned, then understood his meaning. This military unit had planned to fight one battle and flee—they hadn’t even prepared provisions, let alone salt.
The Ji Prefecture reinforcements had only brought grain and medical supplies.
Here, survival itself was a luxury—who would care about how things tasted?
Before coming up the mountain, Old Man Tao had told her about the dire situation. Yilin Gorge was close to Chong Prefecture, and after Long Xin Wang’s defeat at Lu City, he staked everything surrounding Yilin Gorge, hoping to force the Yan Prefecture army into a desperate situation through starvation.
Days of heavy rain had flooded Long Xin Wang’s fifty thousand troops, but it had also caused many soldiers on the mountain to catch cold from the rain.
Long Xin Wang knew that Tang Peiyi’s siege of Chong Prefecture was just a feint, which was why he only withdrew half his troops down the mountain as a precaution. But even with half withdrawn, there were still twenty thousand Chong Prefecture troops at the foot of the mountain. If the army descended now, even with the aid of the two or three thousand scattered reinforcements, it would be like eggs against stone.
Fan Changyu didn’t know what situation they would face when the mountain’s provisions ran out, but she looked earnestly at Xie Zheng and said: “Don’t worry. I hear Marquis Wu’an is a brilliant strategist. He’s won so many battles—he won’t let us die trapped on this mountain by rebels. Even in the worst case, if we run out of food and the rebels attack, as long as I have strength left, I’ll carry you to safety.”
Xie Zheng’s heart was filled with complex emotions as he looked at her and asked: “In such dire circumstances, you should save yourself—why burden yourself with me?”
Fan Changyu replied matter-of-factly: “I said I would take care of you.”
These words struck some chord in Xie Zheng. He stared at her for a long while before suddenly saying: “Fan Changyu, you don’t need to go to such lengths out of guilt.”
“I joined the army not because I feared trouble for you and your neighbors, but because the power I seek is here. I was wounded trying to earn military merit—it has nothing to do with you. What are you feeling guilty about?”
His expression was almost cold at this moment.
Fan Changyu didn’t quite understand why he suddenly became so unfamiliar and asked: “You didn’t want me to come find you?”
Xie Zheng’s dark eyes were cold as he suppressed that longing: “If it’s only out of guilt, you shouldn’t have come here. You don’t owe me anything.”
Fan Changyu began to understand his meaning. She pressed her lips together and said: “Earlier in the other tent, I didn’t finish what I was saying. Before coming to find you, I had already considered both possibilities—whether you were dead or alive. When you left, I beat you terribly and said harsh things, and then I never saw you again. Every time I think about it, I feel awful and yes, very guilty.”
She paused, then lifted her eyes to look at Xie Zheng, appearing somewhat lost: “But coming to find you seems to be about more than just guilt. You don’t know, but I almost died once too. Qingping County and Lin’an Town were both massacred. That rebel who had pretended to be a grain tax official was mixed in with the mountain bandits, seeking revenge against me. There were too many of them for me to fight, so I hid Changning Mrs. Zhao, and the others. That bastard dislocated my arm, and I nearly drowned in the water by the bandit chief. Later, Changning was kidnapped, and while searching for her, I met Uncle Zhao. He said you had come here, and I was afraid you might die here, so I thought I should come see no matter what. If you were dead, I would bury you, and if you weren’t, I would have a good talk with you, tell you about Changning’s disappearance, though I’ll keep looking for her…”
She rambled on about everything she had experienced after he left, her vision inexplicably becoming blurry. She blinked, and a large teardrop rolled down.
How strange—she had rarely cried since childhood.
Unable to see the expression of the person before her clearly, she was suddenly pulled into a powerful embrace, even tighter than the previous one, squeezing her until her bones ached.
He pressed her head against his shoulder, his grip so fierce his fingertips turned white. He wanted to say something—his throat moved—but he remained silent, closing his eyes tightly, everything contained in this wordless embrace.
The mixture of blood and medicine didn’t smell pleasant, but at this moment this embrace made the sting in Fan Changyu’s eyes even stronger, her chest filled with an unprecedented emotion similar to grievance.
After her parents’ deaths, she endured many hardships but never complained to others, nor shed a tear in front of anyone.
Yet today, taking advantage of this embrace, she finally let herself weep freely on his shoulder.
Outside the tent, Gongsun Yin led Changningg to the entrance. Hearing the sounds coming from inside, he found himself in a dilemma—neither entering nor leaving seemed appropriate, his expression full of hesitation and conflict.