Chapter 57 Lifting the Veil: "Heaven has no eyes; I will die with my eyes open!"

The coachman, who had just finished eating and drinking and feeding the horses, saw that the door was open and looked around to come in and tidy up the bedding and make a makeshift bed on the floor. He noticed that Zhou Yaren on the bed looked strange, so he leaned closer and touched her forehead with the back of his hand. She immediately cried out "Ouch!" as if she had been burned, and quickly called for someone to come over.

Bai Yuan went to examine Zhou Yaren's forehead, and it felt as if he had touched a hot piece of coal.

The coachman stood before the earthen kang (heated brick bed), a worried look on his face. After all, they had been traveling for several days, and his gentle employer had been coughing for days in the carriage, sounding quite ill. So he couldn't help but remind her, "Miss, catching a cold is no small matter. Don't be careless. You need to get the fever down first, otherwise, if the fever continues like this, it might damage your brain."

Bai Yuan hadn't expected Zhou Yaren to have a persistent high fever for several days, and now it was even getting higher. She frowned slightly, as if she was dissatisfied that this person was so weak and a burden.

The peasant woman, who had difficulty moving around, listened to their conversation from outside the house and exclaimed, "What should we do? There's no doctor in the village; we'll have to go to town to find one."

In this remote and impoverished place, there wasn't even a barefoot doctor. Even though Bai Yuan knew a few medicinal herbs that could be used to dispel heat and toxins, the cold of winter hadn't passed and spring hadn't arrived yet. The loess plateau was barren and desolate, with not even a tender blade of grass having had time to grow. Naturally, he couldn't collect any herbs. So, he had to trouble the cart driver to make a trip to town overnight to fetch a doctor.

The doctor was quite old, but he had spent most of his life helping people and was hailed as a reincarnation of Hua Tuo (a legendary Chinese physician) by the surrounding villages. He could even prescribe the right medicine for livestock.

He took Zhou Yaren's pulse for a long time while she was sick in bed, his furrowed brows never relaxing.

The old doctor lowered his head slightly, his eyelids drooping loosely, and his attitude was extremely serious and focused. He felt Zhou Yaren's wrist pulse again and again, and only after a long while did he raise his head: "Young master, you have suffered internal injuries and damaged your qi and blood."

Bai Yuan waited quietly to the side: "That's right."

Old Lang immediately had a plan in mind, but the box of medicinal herbs he had hurriedly brought to treat colds was of little use.

After taking Zhou Yaren's pulse, the old doctor thoroughly examined her body. Then, with a furrowed brow, he unfolded a roll of yellowed paper and, by the dim light of an oil lamp, began writing several long prescriptions. He would carefully consider each prescription before putting pen to paper again.

After the dictation was completed, the old doctor gently put down his pen and ink, handing several still-wet prescriptions to Bai Yuan: "I'll have to trouble you to send someone with me again. This prescription contains several very precious medicinal herbs that I don't have. You'll have to go to a larger pharmacy in town to buy them. Young Master's constitution is weak, and his chronic illness has not yet healed, and his foundation has been damaged. He must continue taking the medicine and recuperate quietly."

Bai Yuan asked, "A chronic illness?"

“It must be a lingering problem from an old injury that was too severe,” the old doctor said. “I noticed that his knee joint seemed to have been broken before. It’s possible that he didn’t receive timely treatment at the time, or that it was just hastily bandaged and the bone grew crooked. Later, it was broken again and reattached.”

The driver gasped, feeling a vague discomfort as if his kneecap had been struck.

Bai Yuan was not surprised, though. She knew that Zhou Yaren had been imprisoned and tortured, and that the pain of broken bones was inevitable.

The old doctor asked, "For example, during the cold and damp season of plum rains, does your body often suffer from hidden pains in your bones and muscles?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know, young lady?"

She and Zhou Yaren had only known each other for a little over ten days, and they were wary of each other like thieves, never showing weakness unless absolutely necessary. Bai Yuan had no idea what kind of hidden pain he had: "I'm not familiar with him."

The coachman, who had been standing silently to the side, was astonished upon hearing this. These two—who shared the same carriage and bed—were not familiar with each other?!

The driver couldn't help but recall the scene he'd inadvertently witnessed the previous night—wasn't this enough to be considered familiar?!

So the old doctor didn't say or ask any more questions, and turned to pack up his pen, ink, and medicine box.

Bai Yuan pondered the prescription for a while and decided to take the patient to town with the doctor to settle down, since staying at the woman's house was not as convenient as staying at an inn in town.

But the old doctor stopped him, saying, "Let's not bother him for now. His body can't withstand any movement. He's much weaker than my old bones. Besides, it's windy and cold at night. If he gets further wind-cold, his condition will be even worse. Let that guy from earlier come back with me to get the medicine."

That's all we can do.

Penniless, Bai Yuan had no choice but to take the money pouch from Zhou Yaren's waist to pay the consultation fee, and also gave the coachman a silver ingot to go to town to get medicine.

So the tireless coachman got back into the carriage and drove the old doctor out of the kiln courtyard.

The night outside was deep and silent, with rising mist obscuring the stars and moon.

A single lamp shone on the table inside the earthen kiln, casting Bai Yuan's shadow diagonally across the kang (heated brick bed), pressing down on Zhou Yaren.

When she closed her eyes and entered meditation, there was no trace of her own aura. She was like a still, petrified statue, completely shutting off her five senses and cutting herself off from the outside world. Gradually, a bone-chilling cold aura condensed in her dantian, turning to ice upon contact.

As the cold air circulates and spreads within the body, the eight extraordinary meridians quickly condense into frost, freezing the qi and blood.

Bai Yuan's body instantly became like an ice sculpture.

The frost seeped out from her eight extraordinary meridians, gradually covering the hideous and terrifying scars. After about half an hour, the shackles all over her body seemed to be covered with frost flowers, resembling rime ice in the snow, crystal clear and white.

Bai Yuan closed his eyes and sat in meditation. The frost-like air circulating around him slowly spread out, coolly enveloping Zhou Yaren, who was suffering from a high fever.

His originally burning and hot body was soothed and relieved, so he subconsciously wanted to get closer to this cool and refreshing area. However, his limbs were weak and his mind was hazy, so he could only let his arms hang down and drape them over a piece of white skirt.

Bai Yuan was completely frozen and could not sense the outside world at all.

A moment later, the spreading frost seemed to gradually melt away, and as the frost faded, it miraculously healed the hideous scars.

The scars that snaked along Bai Yuan's cheeks and forehead slowly began to heal, and new, tender skin visibly grew back, gradually becoming smooth as before.

The scars on her face were fading along with the frost, gradually revealing her cold and almost heartless expression.

Even when Bai Yuan is silent and has his eyes closed, he exudes a sharp and inhuman pressure, making him the kind of person who would make people feel close to him.

Just like now, she's as cold as ice.

The frost flowers retreated to the lower jaw but then stopped as if obstructed—it was that hindrance of a spell acting up in the meridians.

Bai Yuan waited patiently and calmly, his expression serene and composed. Then, he focused intently on regulating his internal energy. After about an incense stick's time, the frost covering the torture scars finally faded by a little.

The process of erasing the scars was incredibly long and agonizing. Endless grievances came one after another, all stemming from the resentment and anger of the deceased, which she bore all of.

suddenly.

"Innocent."

A desperate cry of injustice struck her consciousness without warning.

Bai Yuan's eyebrows twitched slightly, and his body suddenly seemed to be pulled into a vortex, almost losing his senses.

She quickly steadied herself and protected her frozen meridians, but another heart-wrenching cry of injustice struck her closed senses.

"I'm innocent!"

"God, please open your eyes."

Bai Yuan's fingers, resting on his knees, tightened slightly. His mind was assaulted by malevolent energy, and yet another wave of resentment and deathly hatred struck him.

"Innocent."

"I'm innocent!"

"Heaven has no eyes; I will die with my eyes open in disgrace!"

Bai Yuan suddenly opened his eyes, his clear black and white eyes revealing a murderous aura.

Before the frost and snow on her body could dissipate, the biting cold air instantly extinguished the small fire on the corner of the table.

Bai Yuan's spirit was injured during his meditation, and he was so unsteady that he leaned on the kang (a heated brick bed) for support, but accidentally landed on an excessively hot hand. Bai Yuan's mind was in turmoil, and he didn't care whose hand he was holding or anything else, so he gripped it tightly.

Innocent!

Innocent!

Innocent!

It sounded like a spell in my ears.

Bai Yuan struggled to calm himself, and his body gradually turned translucent white, like a ethereal soul that could pass through, about to dissipate from this earthen cave.

She frowned and gripped Zhou Yaren's hand tightly.

Zhou Yaren, who was in a daze, seemed to be hurt by her grip and was also affected by the cold air, which made him half open his eyes. In his dizziness, he saw a thin and transparent shadow.

He instinctively tried to pull his hand away, but the other person gripped it even tighter, making his bones ache.

Once the ethereal figure returned to solidity, Bai Yuan slowly loosened his grip, as if he had finally survived that brief moment.

Bai Yuan glanced out the window; the night seemed endless, as if dawn would never come. She estimated the time; the cart driver who went to town to get medicine should have returned long ago. Why hadn't he come back yet?

Bai Yuan began to have doubts. Could it be that something happened on the way that delayed him?

The clatter of hooves echoed through the loess gullies as the horse moved forward along the rolling hills, the lanterns hanging in front of the carriages swaying constantly as it traveled.

As the pitch-black night road gradually became shrouded in mist, the warm yellow lanterns could only illuminate a small area. Unable to see the road ahead, the driver pulled on the reins and slowed down.

"How long have we been traveling?" The doctor inside the carriage couldn't help but lift the bamboo curtain, revealing half of his weathered old face. "Why haven't we arrived yet?"

The driver turned his head and replied, "We're not there yet, please hold on tight."

The old doctor was quite old and his eyesight wasn't very good. It was a foggy night, making it even harder to see clearly. He hesitated as he looked at both sides of the road, but everything seemed completely unfamiliar.

He has practiced medicine for decades, and has traveled the main roads and alleys of this area for most of his life. He knows the way back to his original village by heart: "No, no, no."

Coachman: "What's wrong?"

"This isn't the right way. Did you take the wrong route?"

The driver was suspicious: "How could that be? We took this same road when we came here."

The old doctor squinted, feeling increasingly unfamiliar with the road: "Something's not right. Stop the car and let me get out and take a look."

The coachman pulled on the reins to stop the horse, jumped off, and helped the old doctor up.

"Logically speaking, we've been walking for more than half an hour, we should have arrived by now." The old doctor used the help to get off the carriage, picked up the lantern and probed the way in the thin mist, then slapped his thigh, "Oh dear, I knew it, we really took the wrong turn, this is not the way back to town."

The driver exclaimed in surprise, "What? I really went the wrong way?!"

"That's absolutely right!"

"So...where is this? Can we turn into town if we keep going forward? Or do we have to turn back?"

"This..." This question stumped the old doctor, because he didn't know where the road led either. To be on the safe side, it would be better to turn back.

However, this section of the road was particularly narrow, making it difficult to turn the horse around, so we decided to continue for a while longer.

However, the surrounding fog grew thicker and thicker, and the road ahead became increasingly obscured. The driver feared that one wrong step would send him teetering on the edge of a cliff. Just as he was filled with apprehension, a clear, tinkling sound of bells suddenly rang out from the darkness ahead.

As soon as the bell rang, the horse neighed as if startled, its hooves pacing restlessly.

The driver and the doctor couldn't sit still several times, their buttocks bouncing around a lot.

For some unknown reason, the horse suddenly went out of control and began to run wildly and recklessly through the fog.

The old doctor cried out, lost his balance, and fell to one side, nearly hitting his head. In a panic, he grabbed the carriage wall to prevent himself from tumbling out: "What happened? Ahh—"

The coachman quickly gripped the reins, forcefully restraining the panting, restless horse, and shouted loudly, "Whoa—whoa—whoa—"

After a chaotic scene, the coachman's palms and the area between his thumb and forefinger were chafed raw from pulling on the reins. He was drenched in sweat during the ordeal before finally managing to control the wild horse that had suddenly gone out of control.

"Ouch, ouch..." The old doctor almost broke his bones from being jostled around.

The driver was still shaken and had lingering fears, but before he could catch his breath, he saw dark shadows looming in the mist.

The windlight hanging in front of the cart swayed violently during the recent bumpy ride, making the dark shadows in the mist appear to writhe and thrash in the halo. The driver was startled and stammered, "Wh...what is that?!"

The old doctor, still dizzy from the shaking, peeked out from behind the carriage curtain, looking around with a dazed expression. He felt the world spinning around him: "Dizzy, oh dear, I'm dizzy! How did you drive this carriage? What's wrong with the horse? Why is it running around like that..."

The coachman collapsed onto the horse's rump, his face as white as a sheet, his finger trembling as he pointed ahead: "Yes...yes..."

So the old doctor rubbed his dim old eyes, strained to look in the direction the man was pointing, and blurted out, "There's someone there!"

That shout almost snapped the driver out of his daze of fear and fascination. He recovered and asked, "Human?"

"Why are there so many people traveling at night..." The old doctor said, putting his arm around the driver's back, but then felt a patch of sweat-soaked fabric.

The old doctor clearly felt the body beneath his palm trembling, and his words abruptly stopped halfway through, because he seemed to see many pale faces in a dizzying, spinning sensation, hanging eerily in the night mist, each with its eyes tightly closed, approaching them in a sinister manner.

"ah--"

"ah--"

"ah--"

Terrified screams rang out one after another.

The old doctor and the coachman jumped off their horses and galloped away like madmen. Every time they looked back, they seemed to see ghostly faces hidden in the dark night mist, relentlessly chasing after them.

"There's a ghost..."

"Help!"

Terrified screams echoed through the mountains, sending out eerie, lingering echoes. The two ran wildly in all directions like headless flies, so frightened that they couldn't care less about each other and ended up getting separated.

The driver stumbled and fell, almost bleeding from his head. His clothes were torn by dry branches, and his skin was pierced by thorns, but fear outweighed all the physical pain.

The driver strained forward, barely looking ahead, until he lost his footing and tumbled down the slope, his head slamming hard against a sharp rock. He felt pain and dizziness, but ignored it all and scrambled to his feet. His kneecaps were almost buckling, yet he still staggered forward. Blood streamed down his neck from the back of his head, but he didn't care, for he saw a tiled house with a candle burning ahead.

The driver, covered in dust, stumbled into the shack. In his panic, he pushed open the two half-closed wooden doors, and the sight before him stunned him.

Inside the house, red silk cloth was hung, red candles were burning, and large red "double happiness" characters were pasted on the walls. In the center, a bride dressed in wedding attire sat on a couch, her head and face covered by a large red veil.

The coachman stopped awkwardly outside the threshold, staring blankly at the joyous scene inside, and called out helplessly, "Miss."

The girl remained silent and still, only slowly raising her slender hand, adorned with bright red nail polish, toward him.

Those fingers are so white.

The coachman stared at the snow-white hand reaching out to him, panting heavily. As if summoned by some kind of magic, he stepped across the threshold, walking slowly to the red candle curtain.

The bride waited silently—then the coachman shakily raised a dirty, rough hand covered in mud and blood, and slowly lifted the veil with the bride's tacit consent.