When Lü Zheng and the others returned, they urged Zhu Jiayu to get into the carriage. Wei Qinglou sat by the now-extinguished fire, gazing indifferently at the dark flames.
Zhu Jiayu walked to the carriage, then turned back and said, "If you don't have an appointment to meet someone here, why don't you come with us to the inn?"
A faint smile appeared on Wei Qinglou's face, as gentle and faint as the drifting clouds and mist disturbed by a mountain breeze, sparse yet undeniably present.
He thought Zhu Jiayu wouldn't care whether he lived or died.
However, he still refused Zhu Jiayu's offer.
Judging by the time, the people from Yujing should be arriving soon.
Zhu Jiayu didn't insist, nodded, and boarded the carriage. Soon after, the rumbling of the wheels faded into the distance, and Wei Qinglou finally relaxed, collapsing unconscious on the grass.
The mountain air was heavy with moisture, and Chang Sheng, who was driving, suddenly sneezed.
Sitting in the carriage, Zhu Jiayu recalled the dew-soaked hem of her skirt before her departure, and the pale, sickly face of Wei Qinglou in the misty blue night. Suddenly, she lifted the curtain, ordered Changsheng to stop the carriage, took out a heavy cloak from a hidden box in the carriage, seized a guard's horse, and headed back.
This parting is a long and uncertain one, and she thought, let me do one last good deed.
But when they returned, they found Wei Qinglou collapsed in the grass, his face deathly pale.
She didn't care about anything else, and quickly dismounted and pulled open Wei Qinglou's clothes. Sure enough, she saw that the black blood on the wound on his back had congealed into a scab.
She blamed herself for being careless last night, assuming that the wound, which was only half-healed and not deep, was caused by bandits and was not serious. Now, thinking back, she felt only lingering fear; this man had almost died at her hands, and she didn't know how she had endured it all night.
Zhu Jiayu was both anxious and angry. She half-helped him and dragged him to the secluded stream, taking off his clothes to clean his wounds.
Looking at Wei Qinglou's pale lips, Zhu Jiayu couldn't help but feel fortunate that her medicine for her injuries last night contained several herbs with detoxifying effects. Presumably, by chance, it had alleviated some of the poison's effects.
"Why are you back again?" Wei Qinglou slowly woke up, ignoring the chill on his back. Looking at Zhu Jiayu's beautiful profile, he still had the leisure to joke, "Can't you let me go that much?"
Zhu Jiayu pressed his head down and treated his festering wound, ignoring his joke: "It might hurt a little, just bear with it."
After saying that, Wei Qinglou hissed softly. Seeing that Zhu Jiayu had stopped what she was doing without making a mistake, he smiled reassuringly and said, "You said I wouldn't die. I believe you."
It seems he also knew that the other person's knife was poisoned.
Zhu Jiayu felt uneasy.
The next moment, there was a rustling sound of footsteps in the forest. The footsteps were very light, but because there were many people coming, the sound of them stepping on the fallen leaves was enough to alert Zhu Jiayu.
She instinctively stood up and shielded Wei Qinglou behind her.
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