Ever since meeting Wen Jiang through Ning Yan, Bai Qingqing had gradually picked up a bit of basic medical knowledge along the way. She now carefully recalled the things Wen Jiang had once taught her, cleaned Ning Yan’s wound again, applied fresh medicine, and bandaged it properly.
She took stock of everything in the stone cave. There wasn’t much, but everything was practical and usable. Among the supplies, she also found the incense she had once made.
That incense had no particular medicinal effect—it simply made people feel light-headed and drowsy. Wen Jiang had once whimsically used it on wounded patients, and to their surprise, it actually dulled their perception of pain. The incense was difficult to make, and only a small amount had ever been produced—all of it was here.
Bai Qingqing quietly set the incense within reach. Ning Yan must have known just how agonizing this ordeal would be for him; that was why he had prepared these things.
She had always known the Commander of the Embroidered Guards to be a figure of immense power and awe. In Xuancheng, his name alone commanded caution and deference—no one dared offend him, not even her father or elder brothers.
Many envied the prestige Ning Yan enjoyed. But only now did Bai Qingqing realize that he had fought for it step by step, with his life as the wager.
Outside, the light was slowly fading. She lit only a small lamp, unwilling to attract attention. The day’s panic and fear had left her utterly exhausted, but she didn’t dare rest—not while Ning Yan remained unconscious.
She kept vigil beside him into the deep hours of the night. When she checked on him again, she was startled to find his body burning with fever.
Her heart tightened. “Why is he so hot!”
The fever had come fast and fierce. Even under the dim lamp, she could see the unnatural flush on his face, the veins on his neck swollen and throbbing, and the heat of his breath searing to the touch.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Bai Qingqing quickly soaked a cloth in cool water and laid it across his forehead, then used the same water to wipe his palms. Though her heart pounded with fear, she forced herself to murmur softly, over and over, “You’ll be fine, it’s okay. I’m here—you’re not going to burn your brain silly, I won’t let that happen…”
Wen Jiang had warned her that fever was the most dangerous symptom—if it didn’t break in time, it could cause permanent damage. Cases like this were all too common in Xuan Dynasty.
The moment the damp cloth lost its chill, she changed it out. She didn’t rest, tirelessly wiping his hands and feet to draw out the heat. There was only one thought in her mind: Ning Yan had to be okay. He had to suffer as little as possible.
…
Ning Yan thought he kept hearing someone whispering beside him, though the words were never quite clear. Still, the voice… it was strangely pleasant. Pleasant enough to keep him from surrendering to the darkness entirely.
Suddenly, something cool touched his lips. A chilled, wet liquid eased into his mouth. Ning Yan struggled to lift his eyelids, finally managing to open a narrow slit. The world before him blurred and swam. Someone was undoing the bandage on his arm and applying medicine again.
As his mind sharpened bit by bit, he gathered enough strength to truly awaken.
“Qing… Qing…”
Bai Qingqing was bent over, cleaning his wound. She responded dully without lifting her head, “Don’t move. Almost done.”
Ning Yan was startled. Why did her voice sound so hoarse?
Cleanse. Medicate. Bandage. Her hands moved in one fluid motion—quick, practiced, as if she could do it with her eyes closed. When she finished, she instinctively reached out to touch his forehead, then gave a little nod. “No fever. Good.”
Ning Yan could tell something was very wrong. Her face looked worse than his, and in the instant her body swayed, he caught her quickly, frowning. “How long has it been since you last closed your eyes?”