Propping herself up against the bedboard with her hands, Jiang Ci turned her bare, bandaged back toward Lu Yan. She had no idea how she had managed to say those words just now; thinking about it now made her feel as if her face were about to drip blood. Her exposed skin felt goosebumps from the cool air. She wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from nervousness. Lowering her head, she stared at the patterns on the blanket, the interwoven warp and weft of the coarse cotton.
She heard him standing behind her for a moment, motionless. His breathing was very close, and she could hear him taking deep breaths. One after another. Then, his fingers touched the knot of the bandage on her back.
Feeling the movements of the person behind her, Jiang Ci's heart rate quickened involuntarily. Back when she was at Azure Cloud Sword Peak, the medical cultivators who treated her wounds were all women, and they never needed close physical contact. They would use spells, channeling spiritual energy through her clothes. But under these conditions, having someone help heal her wounds was already a stroke of luck. If she were to be picky, she would look down on herself. Biting her lip, she straightened her back a bit more.
As she felt the bandage tied behind her back gradually loosen, Jiang Ci's tense muscles also began to relax. The knot was below her shoulder blades, and he unwrapped it layer by layer, moving very slowly, as if afraid of pulling on her wounds. She could feel his fingers occasionally brushing against the skin of her back, warm and fleeting. He was nervous too. She didn't know if this counted as a comfort or what.
Once this bandage was undone, she would be completely naked. Naked as the day she was born. Jiang Ci kept repeating in her mind: He's blind, he's blind, he can't see. She chanted it three times to suppress the ripples of emotion rising from the depths of her heart. She didn't know why there were ripples; there shouldn't be. He was just a stranger, a stranger who had saved her, applied medicine to her wounds, and cooked porridge for her. She shouldn't feel her heart race just because his fingers touched her back. It was irrational.
Lu Yan carefully unwrapped the bandage, doing his best to avoid touching her skin. But the bandage was wrapped too tightly, and in some places, it had already stuck to the wounds, causing her to shudder slightly when he peeled it off. He paused, waiting for her to recover before continuing. He suddenly realized a problem—if she hadn't undone the bandage on her back, then the wounds on her back hadn't been treated with medicine for a whole day. In other words, he would have to apply the medicine to her back as well.
He took two deep breaths. A faint scent drifted into his nose—not of medicine, but of her. It was a very subtle scent of cedar and jasmine, barely detectable amidst the herbal aroma. He held his breath again, trying his best not to inhale that cold, elegant fragrance. Pulling his attention back to the wounds, he pulled the last layer of bandage away and cast it aside.
The peeled gauze was damp, soaked with yellow-white, sticky fluid. He grabbed it and tossed it onto the stool nearby. Squeezing some ointment onto his fingertips, he gently touched the edge of that ‘chrysanthemum’ wound. It should have scabbed over after the last application, but the scab had softened and puffed up from being soaked in fluid. He didn't dare apply too much pressure. The area beneath the soft scab also felt soft, as if fluid had accumulated. Lu Yan knew nothing of medicine, nor had he studied it in his previous life. At best, he could only be considered an elixir refiner who knew how to refine pills, and he had formulated these topical ointments through trial and error. He didn't know if this was the right way to treat it, but it was all he had.
He had finished applying the ointment to the outer petals and the lower branches, leaving only the largest ‘pistil’ between her shoulder blades. The scab there was the thickest and held the most fluid, feeling swollen to the touch, as if filled with something. He tentatively applied the ointment, but his fingers felt sticky upon contact—the scab had ruptured, and clear, slightly yellowish fluid began to ooze from the wound.
This wouldn't do. He had to clean the wound first. Lu Yan stood up, went to the kitchen, and fetched a bowl of diluted saltwater. He dipped his finger to taste it; it wasn't very salty, and he wasn't sure if it was close to normal saline. But with the fluid oozing like this, he definitely couldn't apply the medicine directly. He had nothing better, only this.
Dipping a piece of gauze into the saltwater, he said to Jiang Ci, “This might hurt a little, so bear with it. Let me know if I'm using too much force.”
Lying on her side, Jiang Ci let out a muffled, “Mmh.” Her fingers gripped the corner of the blanket so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She heard the sound of him wringing out the gauze, the water droplets falling into the bowl with a steady drip, drip. Then, a cool sensation pressed against her back, moving along the edges of the wound.
A cool, tingling sensation spread from her back, each wipe bringing a wave of sharp pain. It wasn't unbearable, but the ache still seeped deep into her chest, like fine needles stabbing her over and over. Jiang Ci tensed her body, shivering slightly. She did her best not to make a sound, biting her lower lip until a white mark appeared.
Lu Yan changed the water twice, maintaining the exact same posture without moving. He squatted by the bedside, his arms suspended in the air to avoid pressing against her. Though his wrists grew sore, he gritted his teeth and didn't stop. The wet gauze soaked in saltwater wiped away the fluid adhering to the wounds, layer by layer, like peeling something open. With every wipe, she would flinch slightly, but she remained silent.
When his fingers brushed the wound again, the texture had turned into a soft scab—no longer sticky with fluid or softened by decay. Switching hands, he took some more ointment, and his warm fingertips, carrying the cool herbal medicine, glided across her back. He drew circles from the outer edge of her shoulder blades inward, layer by layer, spreading the ointment evenly. The burning pain on her back finally eased, as if cool spring water were seeping into her skin, extinguishing the fire. Her clenched teeth slowly relaxed, and her breathing shifted from short, restrained gasps to shallow, steady breaths.
Lu Yan felt her muscles relax. He softened his movements, spreading the last bit of ointment evenly. He warmed the ointment in his palm before applying it, so it wouldn't be too cold and give her goosebumps. He didn't know when he had learned this—perhaps it was when he had accidentally injured himself while fooling around with his martial brothers, and the old man had applied medicine to him in the same way. Now, he had learned to do it for others. Lu Yan bit the tip of his tongue, forcing himself not to think of the old man. Now was not the time for nostalgia; there were more important and urgent things waiting for him to do.
Once the ointment was applied, he tore a roll of bandages, preparing to wrap her up. Bandaging was clearly much easier than applying medicine. He didn't need to look at the wounds or worry about hurting her; he just had to wrap it around her, layer by layer. Perhaps because he felt the silence was too heavy, or perhaps to ease the tension, he asked casually.
“How did you get these injuries? Did you fail your tribulation?”
In truth, even if she hadn't said anything, he had already recognized them as lightning strike wounds. Ordinary lightning spells wouldn't carry that ominous Heavenly Punishment Mark. But he asked anyway. After asking, he felt it was a bit intrusive. As he spoke, he placed a large piece of gauze over her back to cover the wounds, then began wrapping the bandage upward from her waist.
Perhaps because he had some experience from last time, he worked much faster and did a better job. Last time, he had tied dead knots that were crooked, tight in some places and loose in others. This time, he deliberately left some leeway, making the bandages snug but not constricting. Moreover, a large part of the reason was because Jiang Ci was awake this time; she could cooperate and tell him if it was too tight or too loose, unlike last time when she was unconscious and he had to rely entirely on feel.
But precisely because she was awake for this dressing change, Jiang Ci had shifted from lying on her side to a sitting position. Wrapping the bandages from behind her felt as if Lu Yan were embracing her from behind. His arms slipped under her armpits, wrapping the bandage around and around, passing by both sides of her body each time. She could feel his chest pressing against her back through a layer of fabric, warm and rising and falling with his breath. She knew he didn't mean anything by it, but she still couldn't help wanting to lean forward to escape it.
“Don't move,” Lu Yan said, wanting only to finish this quickly and end this ordeal.
Jiang Ci could only try her best to remain frozen in place, feeling the warm breath behind her. The tips of her ears gradually turned red, the flush spreading from her earlobes all the way down her neck. She lowered her head, staring at her hands. They rested on her knees, motionless.
Jiang Ci felt completely overwhelmed.
But at this moment, Lu Yan's question was even harder to answer. She didn't even know how to describe her injuries. To be precise, she didn't know what they counted as. A punishment? A tribulation? Or a frame-up? She said she had been exiled, the lightning tribulation had been added by Bai Cen, and the mark had been left by the Heavenly Dao. She couldn't explain it clearly. She lowered her head, watching the wounds on her body being covered by gauze one by one. It was like a shattered piece of porcelain being glued back together, showing that it was a damaged good with no practical value left.
Feeling the gauze pass under her armpits and slowly tighten, Jiang Ci shook her head, then nodded.
“Something like that.”
She didn't explain, and he didn't press.
Lu Yan sensed that she was in a bad mood, so his movements grew gentler. Wrapping the bandage below her chest, he passed it over her arms and across her shoulders with very light movements. He asked a different question.
“What is your name?”
In truth, Lu Yan could have gone on forever without knowing Jiang Ci's name. It did not really matter, just as he still did not know Du Qi's real name. If he asked, Du Qi would probably tell him, but he had no reason to ask. Names were meant to be called, and since he already had a moniker to use, why bother asking for their real name? Besides, did people not find it awkward to ask for someone's name? Asking for a lady's name felt like something out of an old play, while asking for a surname sounded like a business negotiation. Both were incredibly awkward.
But he really couldn't find a proper way to address the girl in front of him. Calling her “young lady” was too formal, and calling her “fellow Daoist” was too polite. So, asking for her name to establish a form of address made sense. He went about it in the most direct way.
“Jiang Ci,” she told him directly. After all, this name wasn't worth much anymore, and there was nothing to hide. After saying it, she actually felt a sense of relief, as if she had finally released something she had been holding back for a long time.
“And yours?”
Lu Yan hadn't yet recovered from hearing the name “Jiang Ci.” He felt as if he had heard this name somewhere before; it sounded quite familiar. Where was it? In the intelligence reports of the Abandoned Guest Hall? On the Heavenly Pride Board? Or even earlier? He searched his memory but couldn't recall, so he set it aside for now. Hearing her ask for his name, the alarm bells in his mind instantly rang.
She was from the Central Continent. His real name had been among the top three on the Central Continent's wanted list for years, so she would definitely recognize it. He couldn't tell her his real name. He smiled, trying to make his voice sound as natural as possible.
“You won't want to know my name. If you really want to call me something, just call me Shiyi for now.”
“Shiyi”—his rank in the Abandoned Guest Hall. It was not his real name, but it was not a fake one either. It was a safe name she could use without causing trouble, a name that represented security, a profound sense of security.
“Oh,” Jiang Ci nodded. She didn't press further. Just as she hadn't asked how he knew those were lightning strike wounds from a tribulation, or why he didn't dare give his real name. Both of them tacitly skipped the topic.
Lu Yan finished wrapping. He still tied a dead knot; he didn't know how to tie a bow, and as long as the knot held and didn't fall apart, that was enough. Why demand so much? He tied the knot at her waist so it wouldn't poke her or press against her when she lay down.
“Try it and see if it's too tight. If it is, I can adjust it and loosen it a bit.”
Jiang Ci turned her upper body slightly to feel it. Compared to last time, this didn't feel like it came from the same hand at all. Although it was slightly on the tighter side, she actually preferred this snug feeling. It felt much sturdier than being loose. The bandage clung to her skin, neither slipping nor pinching.
“It's very comfortable. Thank you.”
“Good. It's already the fourth watch of the night, so you should rest.” Lu Yan let out a sigh of relief, gathering the used gauze and medicine bottles. Performing this kind of torture once was exhausting enough. Not physically, but mentally. He carried the bowl back to the kitchen, washed the ointment off his hands, rolled up the dirty gauze on the stool, and placed it in the corner to wash tomorrow.
Jiang Ci lay down and snuggled into the blanket. The bed was still warm; though some heat had escaped when she got up, wrapping herself tightly again brought the warmth back. She pulled the blanket up to her chin, exposing only half her face, and watched Lu Yan sit back down by the bed.
Lu Yan reached out and blew out two of the three candles on the table. The wicks were still smoking, a thin wisp of white smoke wavering in the candlelight before dispersing. The remaining candle sat on the bedside table, its flame flickering and casting their shadows onto the wall. His shadow was darker and larger, leaning to the left. Her shadow was lighter and smaller, leaning to the right. As the candle flame flickered, the two shadows swayed along with it, leaning toward the center before parting again.
Yet, without either of them realizing when it had begun, the edges of their shadows had already touched. They did not overlap, but merely rested against each other. If one did not look closely, it was impossible to tell. But after sitting in the light for a long time, one would realize that there was only a single candle, and shadows could only fall in one direction. They clung together, never parting from the moment they were cast onto the wall.
Lu Yan sat leaning against the wall, not lying down. He closed his eyes, his thoughts unknown. Jiang Ci lay on her side, facing the wall, watching the two shadows. She reached out and touched the wall. Her fingertips met the cold surface, not his shadow. She pressed her hand back, tucking it under the blanket.
The candle flame flickered once more. The shadows stabilized. Their shadows merged completely, blending into a pool of pitch-black ink on the wall.
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