PTSD

Everyone was having a great time, except for Lu Yan. Ever since Fu Changfeng had paid his visit, Lu Yan had been absentminded. He leaned against the edge of the pool with his eyes closed, the rising steam coating his face in a fine layer of condensation. Yao Wu knew why he was like this but chose to leave him be, letting him worry on his own. Why ruin his own comfortable soak in the hot spring?

Using his only remaining arm, Yao Wu held three wine jars by their spouts, aligning them mouth-to-mouth. He tilted his head back, pouring all three jars into his mouth at the same time. The amber liquid drew three perfect arcs in the air, landing precisely into his wide-open mouth without a single drop spilled. The surrounding onlookers stared in dumbfounded awe before bursting into a round of cheers.

Lu Yan's train of thought was shattered by Yao Wu's sudden coughing fit. He opened his eyes to see Yao Wu vigorously thumping his own chest, having choked on the wine. A crowd had gathered around him—some cheering, some handing him towels, and others patting his back. It was as lively as a festival. His lip twitched. Could he pretend he didn't know this guy?

Besides, didn't this guy not even need to breathe to produce alcohol himself? Why did he insist on pouring wine down his throat? Wasn't that a total waste? And if he couldn't handle it, why drink three jars at once? Getting choked was entirely his own fault.

Sometimes he felt that being blind wasn't so bad after all; at least he didn't have to look at these bizarre, abstract people who looked like they'd stepped straight out of a fragmented Picasso painting. He closed his eyes again, letting the steam envelop him as if it wanted to melt him away.

Yao Wu stumbled out of the cheering crowd, swaying on his feet as he approached Lu Yan with a half-empty jar of leftover wine. “Come on, Yanzi, have a drink with your brother!”

He shoved the half-empty jar right in front of Lu Yan's face, nearly poking the spout into his nostrils. The smell of alcohol on Yao Wu, mixed with the steam, the sulfur of the hot spring, and the sweat of God-knows-who, rushed into Lu Yan's nose all at once. He suddenly felt the warm spring water turn ice-cold. The pungent scent of wine transformed into the metallic stench of fresh blood, wrapping around him through the rising steam. His face instantly drained of color, turning as white as paper. “Take it away,” he rasped, his voice tight and trembling slightly at the end.

Yao Wu squinted, perhaps too drunk to hear Lu Yan clearly, or maybe he heard but didn't care. “Oh, come on, don't be so squeamish. What's wrong with drinking after me? I'm a stalk of grass! My spit is practically medicine! Come on, drink, drink!”

He pushed the jar an inch closer, nearly touching Lu Yan's face. The pungent fumes felt like a hand reaching deep into Lu Yan's nostrils and grabbing his stomach. His body began to shudder—from his fingertips to his elbows, and from his elbows to his shoulders. He felt as though he were entirely submerged in the metallic, salty smell of rust.

“Blegh—” Lu Yan suddenly doubled over, his stomach churning violently as he threw up into the pool.

The people nearby were startled and scrambled out of the hot spring. Some grumbled curses, some pinched their noses, and others turned back to watch the drama. “Hey, kid! If you're gonna puke, don't do it in the water!”

Yao Wu was also startled by the sudden retching, which instantly sobered him up. He quickly used his spiritual energy to clear the filth from the pool, then turned to look at Lu Yan, only to find his face as pale as a sheet.

He quickly tossed the wine jar aside, knelt down, and grabbed Lu Yan's shoulders. “Yanzi, are you okay? What's wrong?” Lu Yan didn't answer. His body kept shaking as he hung his head, gasping for air as if he were suffocating.

Yao Wu hooked an arm under Lu Yan's and hauled him out of the pool. “Come on, let's get out first.” He carried Lu Yan toward the exit. Lu Yan hung limply off him, his legs too weak to support himself, dragging like a pile of wet clay.

Yao Wu gritted his teeth, supporting Lu Yan's weight with his single arm while cursing inwardly. What the hell was wrong with him? There was no way soaking in a hot spring did this, right? Lu Yan shivered violently, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath.

Yao Wu leaned in to listen, catching only a few fragmented words. “Don't die... Don't die... We're almost there...” Who the hell was dying? Aren't I alive and well? Why is he having a waking nightmare in broad daylight? And what did 'almost there' mean? Don't tell me this kid is trying to matchmake someone on their deathbed!

Yao Wu looked thoroughly annoyed. To this day, he still had no idea that his own teasing—shoving that jar of wine in Lu Yan's face—had triggered the boy's episode.

The moment Yao Wu laid Lu Yan down on a lounge chair in the resting area, Hong Jiu and Jiang Ci walked up. Treating them like his saviors, he practically slid on his knees over to them. “Sisters, help! Shiyi is about to kick the bucket!” His voice echoed through the room, leaving both Hong Jiu and Jiang Ci dumbfounded.

As for why only Hong Jiu and Jiang Ci had come up while Hua Er and Nannan were nowhere to be seen, Yao Wu didn't care. In truth, Hua Er was currently paying the price for trying to corrupt an innocent young maiden.

Rewinding to half an hour earlier, when the women were halfway through their soak, Hua Er's idea machine brain had kicked into gear. After all, they had eaten, drunk, and bathed. Wasn't it about time they got to the main event? She suggested giving each other massages. The moment Hong Jiu saw Hua Er perk up, she knew exactly what kind of mischief she was plotting. But before she could stop her, Jiang Ci had already agreed.

Jiang Ci knew of this practice. Back in her sect, close disciples would often massage and help each other relax after intense sword practice. But she had always been a lone wolf and had never experienced such camaraderie before. This was her very first time. Her eyes lit up, and a trace of excitement fluttered in her chest.

If Hua Er had a tail right now, it would be spinning like a helicopter propeller. Her wicked hands slid down Jiang Ci's shoulders and neck, beginning the massage. Bubbling with delight, her smile nearly reached her ears. Yet her hands remained steady—kneading and squeezing with perfect pressure, her technique surprisingly professional. Jiang Ci closed her eyes, letting out a soft groan every now and then.

Hearing those soft sounds, Hua Er grew even more excited, her hands moving a fraction faster. So smooth, so tender, so soft... Huh? Her fingers suddenly brushed against a rough, uneven patch of skin. Startled, she looked down. Jiang Ci's arms were covered in bite marks. They were layered over one another—some old and scarred, some scabbed, and some still fresh and unhealed. They lined up one after another from her wrist to her elbow, resembling scars left behind by some bizarre ritual.

“How did you get these?” Hua Er's voice suddenly lost its playful tone. Jiang Ci opened her eyes and followed her gaze to the bite marks on her arm. She paused, having forgotten that these scars were still there. After a brief moment of thought, she decided to tell Hua Er the truth.

As Hua Er listened, her lips twitched. She recalled the day Jiang Ci had carried Lu Yan into Everspring City on her back. Her robes had been covered in dried blood, her face caked in dust, and her eyes dark with exhaustion. Hua Er had assumed the blood belonged to others; she never imagined it was Jiang Ci's own. Suddenly, her chest felt tight, as if a heavy stone were pressing down on it. Any desire she had to steal a few cheap thrills evaporated completely.

She gave a few half-hearted squeezes and was about to pull away when a small hand grabbed her.

Nannan had climbed out of the pool at some point. Drenched from head to toe like a little kitten caught in the rain, she looked up at Hua Er with sparkling eyes. “Auntie, I want a massage too~” Hua Er looked down at Nannan, staring into those bright, innocent eyes and that pure, angelic face. She took a deep breath and resigned herself to her fate. Great. Here came trouble.