An Jiu opened her eyes, squinting against the harsh lamplight as she adjusted.
“Awake?” Chu Dingjiang asked, somewhat surprised.
An Jiu turned her stiff neck to see a man in dark, tight-fitting clothes sitting across from her. His straight back and form-fitting attire hinted at the powerful muscles beneath, reminiscent of a leopard poised to strike.
“Chu Dingjiang?” An Jiu stared at the half-mask on his face.
“Not bad eyesight,” he said, rising to check her pulse.
His warm fingers on her wrist felt almost scalding. An Jiu instinctively flinched but found herself firmly held.
The pulse was normal, but there was no change in internal energy. Chu Dingjiang confirmed that the earlier signs of a breakthrough were in spiritual energy, which couldn’t be detected by pulse.
“You’ve been unconscious for half a month,” Chu Dingjiang released her hand. “You’re finally better now.”
“Did you save me?” An Jiu asked. “Thank you.”
Chu Dingjiang replied coolly, “I dare not take credit. Someone had already treated your wounds and given you an antidote. Without that, even immortals couldn’t have saved you.”
An Jiu’s memories were fragmented, but she recalled only Mo Sigui being with her. He must have been the one to help her.
She looked up at Chu Dingjiang. “How do you want me to repay you for saving me?”
Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Do you dare to offer yourself to me?”
“You look so serious, but you’re quite the flirt inside,” An Jiu remarked.
“I’m not joking,” Chu Dingjiang’s gaze moved to her chest. “When I removed the hidden weapons, I saw your body. From now on, you’re my wife. As I’m in the Konghe Army, I can’t give you a grand wedding. Just red candles and a bridal bed. I hope you’ll forgive the simplicity.”
Marrying privately as a Konghe Army member was a significant risk for Chu Dingjiang. This was the most he could offer.
“Are you using your kindness to demand repayment?” An Jiu asked calmly.
Chu Dingjiang frowned. “How can you say that? I’m simply doing what a man should!”
“Then you won’t mind if I choose a different way to repay you?” An Jiu considered carefully, then added, “While I’m not conservative about sex, I don’t engage in it casually. You needn’t feel responsible in that regard.”
Chu Dingjiang was momentarily stunned, his face flushing red. He coughed awkwardly and looked away to compose himself.
Having weathered many storms, he quickly regained his composure and changed the subject. “There’s porridge. Would you like some?”
“Yes,” An Jiu replied concisely.
Chu Dingjiang soon returned with a bowl of white porridge. He sat by the bed and began feeding An Jiu with a spoon.
His movements were clumsy, and he hadn’t helped An Jiu sit up, clearly inexperienced in caring for others. Yet An Jiu accepted the food without comment.
For both of them, feeding and being fed were long-forgotten memories. Though the scene appeared somewhat awkward, an inexplicable emotion flowed between them.
After An Jiu finished the porridge, Chu Dingjiang asked, “Would you like to sit outside?”
Most would find this suggestion odd at night, but An Jiu readily agreed.
After half a month, An Jiu’s external wounds had healed, allowing for some movement.
Wrapped in a large cloak, An Jiu sat in the corridor, hands clutching her collar, gazing at the distant mountains in the night.
Chu Dingjiang leaned against a pillar, arms folded, looking down at the whorl of hair on An Jiu’s head.
They sat silently until the moon set in the west.
“Let’s go back inside,” Chu Dingjiang said.
An Jiu didn’t move. “If someone told you to live well before dying, would you follow their dying wish or seek revenge for them?”
Chu Dingjiang had limited interaction with An Jiu but had noticed her pervasive coldness. He was surprised she cared so deeply for someone.
An Jiu looked up, meeting his dark eyes.
After a pause, Chu Dingjiang replied, “Life’s meetings and partings last no more than a hundred years, no less than a moment. Follow your heart in all things.”
An Jiu nodded in agreement. “Is the Konghe Army Commander so free?”
How else could Chu Dingjiang have cared for her for half a month?
“Of course not,” Chu Dingjiang smiled. “But I’ve long been demoted.”
An Jiu raised an eyebrow, silently questioning.
Though it concerned Konghe Army secrets, Chu Dingjiang didn’t conceal anything. “Many were ready to oust me. Recent events have caused heavy losses for the Konghe Army, giving them an excuse.”
He chose not to fight back now to avoid unfavorable timing.
“Was it the Emperor who attacked the Lou and Mei families?” An Jiu asked, unsure if she’d get an answer but curious about the brutal mastermind.
“If the Emperor wanted to act, he wouldn’t choose such violent methods. Though His Majesty is ambitious, he seeks immortality and wouldn’t be so brutal,” Chu Dingjiang explained. “All evidence points to Yelü Huangwu of Liao. I’m certain it’s her.”
An Jiu gazed at him silently. “Why are you so open with me?”
If he considered her his own just for seeing her body, it seemed far-fetched. While many in this era might think that way, An Jiu sensed Chu Dingjiang wasn’t like that.
“It’s complicated,” Chu Dingjiang said. He had discovered An Jiu’s meridians were destroyed, believing it was due to his forceful expansion when he made her use Jingxian.
Of course, seeing her body was part of it, along with many subtle reasons. An Jiu’s personality made her a suitable confidant. As a master of the transformation realm, he rarely found someone on the same spiritual level, especially someone like An Jiu who had spiritual power but no internal energy. Silencing her would be as easy as crushing an ant.
An Jiu couldn’t guess his complex thoughts. Sensing no malice, she didn’t press for answers she couldn’t get.
“One last question,” An Jiu asked what she most wanted to know. “Why did you save me?”
The wind stirred the lamplight, casting shifting shadows on their faces.
After a moment’s silence, Chu Dingjiang spoke, “I didn’t know your meridians were destroyed beforehand.”
“You should have drowned me in the pond earlier.”
Chu Dingjiang smiled, “Holding grudges and not appreciating kindness isn’t a good habit. You should change that.”
…
As the sun rose, ice and snow melted, and nature awakened.
In a remote tavern, seventy li from Bianjing, a young man in a loose earth-brown robe sat by the window. On the table before him lay a silk handkerchief with a butterfly with broken wings.
The table was laden with food and wine, but he hadn’t touched any of it.
“Elder, my heart is already punished,” he murmured.
The butterfly had died on the third day after leaving Meihua Village. Mo Sigui had searched the surrounding seventy li thoroughly but found no trace.