Chapter 59: Returning to the Camp, No One Wanted to Question Her Orders
The wind and snow were like knives, scratching painfully against her face. Shen Zhiwei hunched over her horse, tightly gripping the reins. Fifty elite cavalrymen followed silently behind her, the sound of their hooves treading through the snow drowned out by the whistling wind.
Visibility was extremely low, the sky and the earth were covered in white, and it was impossible to tell the direction. The veteran who led the way relied on his memory of the terrain and the contours of the rocks to identify the path with difficulty.
A layer of frost formed on the edge of Shen Zhiwei's fur hat, and every breath she took was freezing cold. She almost lost the feeling of her hands holding the reins.
Chuanyun Stream, as its name suggests, boasts cliffs as sharp as a knife or an axe, and a depth so deep that the light is invisible. Now, amidst the blizzard, it feels like a chasm leading to the underworld. The team slowly descended along the steep edge of the ravine, relying only on ropes and grappling hooks. The ice was slippery, and gravel occasionally tumbled down, falling into the deep ravine. A faint echo was heard after a long time.
"Sir, watch your step!" the veteran warned hoarsely, reaching out to help Shen Zhiwei. Her boots slipped on the ice, and she barely managed to steady herself. Her heart was pounding, but she couldn't show it on her face. She simply nodded and signaled to continue descending.
As we descended deeper into the ravine, the sound of the wind and snow seemed to be somewhat muffled by the steep rock face, but the cold grew even stronger, and our breath turned to ice. Underfoot lay a thick layer of snow, mixed with icicles that had fallen from the cliff face, making a crackling sound when we stepped on it.
"Search in a scattered manner! Use the fire as a signal and report back immediately if you find any trace. Do not act without authorization!" Shen Zhiwei lowered his voice and gave the order. The soldiers obeyed the order silently and dispersed in groups of three or five quickly into the shadows at the bottom of the ravine filled with wind and snow.
Shen Zhiwei slowly moved forward along the ice surface that might be the direction of the main river channel. The wind and snow blurred her vision, and she could only rely on her intuition and the occasional traces she found to grope forward.
A torn piece of blood-stained cloth, a few messy dragging marks, and a faint smell of blood in the air.
Her heart beat heavily in her chest, and a long-lost anxiety rose. She remembered many years ago, on a snowy day, when she dug the seriously injured and dying Xiao Wangqing out of the snow. He was still frail, his young face covered in blood, but he bit her with all his might.
"This way!" The personal soldier who was exploring the way ahead shouted in a low voice, the halo of the torch in his hand swaying in the wind and snow, illuminating an obvious drag mark on the snow, with sporadic blood spots, winding to the back of a huge ice rock.
Shen Zhiwei's heart suddenly tightened. She signaled everyone to slow down their pace and disperse to surround them. She took the old guide and two personal soldiers and slowly approached along the edge of the ice rock.
The wind and snow were mostly blocked by the rocks here, and the further we went, the clearer the smell of blood became.
After walking around the ice rock, the scene in front of him made Shen Zhiwei's pupils shrink slightly.
On the leeward side of the ice rock, a relatively flat area of snow was cleared, with a weak bonfire burning in the center. The flames struggled to survive in the strong wind, reflecting the figures of dozens of people sitting or lying around.
Most of them were wounded, ragged, and wrapped in whatever furs they could find. They huddled together for warmth, their faces pale and their eyes weary and alert. Beside the campfire, several less seriously injured soldiers were wiping their companions' wounds with snow water, their movements stiff and slow from the cold.
At the outermost edge of the crowd, close to the rock wall, Xiao Wangqing was leaning against it.
His dark light armor was torn in several places, and a broken arrow was stuck in his left shoulder blade. The shaft had been shortened, but the tip was clearly still deeply embedded. Blood soaked through the clothing on his shoulder and froze into a dark red lump.
His face was as pale as snow, his lips so pale they almost blended in with his skin. His hair, soaked with sweat and snow, clung to his skin. But he sat upright, his right hand tightly gripping an unsheathed longsword, the tip of which stabbed into the snow before him, supporting most of his weight. His usually calm black eyes were now half-lidded, tiny ice crystals clinging to his long eyelashes, trembling slightly with his weak breaths.
He is still alive.
Shen Zhiwei's heart, which had been hanging in the air all the way, suddenly fell back to reality the moment she saw him. She walked forward, her steps getting faster and faster, and finally she almost ran over.
The soldiers around the campfire raised their heads alertly. When they saw it was her, they were stunned at first, and then the crowd broke into a commotion. Some tried to stand up and salute, but they staggered due to injuries or weakness.
"Lord Shen!"
"It's Master Shen who's here!"
A choked cry of surprise spread through the crowd.
Upon hearing the voice, Xiao Wangqing's half-closed eyelashes suddenly lifted up.
The pair of black eyes that were always calm were now reflecting the flickering bonfire, clearly reflecting the figure of Shen Zhiwei walking quickly against the wind and snow.
The wind and snow lifted the hem of her fur coat, her hair was stained with snow, her cheeks were red from the cold wind, and white air came out of her breath, but she still kept running towards him.
The low-pitched commotion around the campfire died down instantly as she ran closer, and all the soldiers' eyes were focused on her, filled with hope and respect for having survived the disaster.
Xiao Wangqing subconsciously tightened his grip on the sword. He watched her getting closer and closer, close enough that he could see the fine frost on her eyelashes, close enough that he could smell the familiar scent of warm charcoal and books from the tent that she brought with her.
She shouldn't be on the bloody battlefield, and he once again made her...
Again?
Shen Zhiwei squatted down in front of him, his eyes quickly scanning his entire body, finally settling on the broken arrow on his left shoulder blade. The arrow shaft was rough, the fracture uneven, and the surrounding clothing was stuck together with dark red blood scabs and frozen ice chips. It was obvious that the wound had not been properly treated.
"Don't move." She frowned and spoke, her voice a little tense due to the cold and urgency. She first reached for his neck. Her fingertips and neck were cold, but the contact was not as cold as she expected.
Although the pulse is weak, the rhythm is still steady.
Xiao Wangqing's Adam's apple rolled, and he wanted to say something, but in the end he just pursed his pale lips and let her fingers stay.
Shen Zhiwei withdrew her hand and turned to the personal guards who followed behind her: "Medicine, hot water, clean cloths." She spoke quickly, "Deal with the seriously injured first. Those who can move, help light a fire and clear a larger shelter. Move quickly, we can't stay here for long."
"yes!"
The soldiers' spirits lifted, and they immediately took action upon hearing the order. The depressed atmosphere completely dissipated. Someone handed over a leather bag that they had brought with them. Inside was the only remaining water, which was slightly warmed by body heat. Shen Zhiwei took the water bag and said, "Hold on."
Without waiting for Xiao Wangqing's response, she used a knife to cut the cloth that was stuck to his shoulder and the wound. She tried to move it as gently as possible, but when the cloth was torn away from his flesh, Xiao Wangqing's body still stiffened for a moment, and fine cold sweat oozed from his forehead.
Shen Zhiwei soaked a cloth with warm water and carefully wiped away the blood and ice around the wound, revealing the hideous wound. The arrowhead was barbed and deeply embedded. The surrounding flesh was already pale and swollen, with a bluish-purple tinge at the edges.
"The arrowhead must be taken out, otherwise it will fester." She looked up at him.
Xiao Wangqing nodded, his voice low and hoarse: "Yeah."
Shen Zhiwei said no more and took out strong liquor and wound medicine from the medicine bag handed to her by her personal guard. She carefully washed her hands and the knife with the liquor.
"Without Ma Fei San, it will be very painful."
"It's okay." Xiao Wangqing closed his eyes.
Shen Zhiwei took a deep breath, steadying his shoulder with one hand while holding the knife with the other. The blade precisely avoided the major blood vessels and carefully cut through the flesh stretched by the arrow. Blood immediately gushed out, warm and sticky, dripping onto the snow, creating a small, glaring red patch.
Xiao Wangqing groaned, his body shaking violently, veins popping out on the back of his hand holding the sword. He didn't struggle, but simply tilted his head back and pressed it heavily against the cold rock wall. His Adam's apple rolled up and down as he swallowed the cry of pain that almost came out of his mouth.
Shen Zhiwei kept working, staring down at the wound, trying not to look at Xiao Wangqing's expression. She used the tip of her knife to find the barb of the arrow, carefully pried it loose, and then pulled it out with force!
"Ugh!" Xiao Wangqing groaned in pain, his body suddenly arched forward, and then leaned weakly back against the rock wall. His face instantly turned as pale as paper, and cold sweat soaked his temples.
The bloody arrowhead fell to the snow with a clang.
Shen Zhiwei bit the soft flesh in her mouth tightly. She immediately rinsed the wound with a large amount of strong liquor, sprinkled it with golden wound powder, and pressed the wound tightly with a medicated cloth to stop the bleeding. The whole process was clean and neat, without any drag.
Xiao Wangqing gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently. After a long moment, he slowly opened his eyes. His vision was a little blurry. In the glow of the campfire, Shen Zhiwei lowered her eyelids, concentrating on bandaging him. The lines of his face looked unusually soft in the flickering firelight.
Xiao Wangqing rarely saw her like this.
…
Very little?
What should Shen Zhiwei be like?
At one point, the scene before him overlapped with a distant, blurry fragment of memory—also in this icy and snowy landscape, also severely injured, and also with someone desperately coming to his side to tend to his wounds… That person seemed to be wearing men's clothing, their features more heroic, yet their movements carried a similar...
The scene flashed by, too fast to grasp, yet it made Xiao Wangqing's heart skip a beat. An indescribable bitterness and familiarity surged through him. He subconsciously reached out his hand, his fingertips trembling slightly, wanting to touch something, but he let it fall halfway.
Shen Zhiwei was just tying the last knot when she looked up and met his extremely complicated eyes. Those eyes were no longer the clear and calm ones at first, nor were they just the weakness after being seriously injured. There were too many emotions mixed in that she could not understand at the moment.
...crying?
She stared at the red corners of Xiao Wangqing's eyes, stunned for a moment, thinking it was a physiological reaction caused by the severe pain. She reached out and touched his forehead, which was cold and clammy. "What's wrong? Are you feeling any discomfort elsewhere?"
Xiao Wangqing finally came back to his senses. He avoided her touch and shook his head slightly: "...Nothing, thank you...Miss Chen."
Shen Zhiwei withdrew his hand and didn't ask any more questions, only saying: "The wound has been treated temporarily, but the blood loss is too much and needs to be warmed up as soon as possible. We must leave here."
She stood up and looked around. Under the guidance of the old guide, the soldiers had used ice, rocks, and snow to build a low wall to block the wind. The bonfire had been fueled with more wood, burning brighter. The seriously wounded were placed closest to the fire, while the less seriously injured bandaged each other in an orderly manner.
"Count the number of people, calculate the casualties, those who can walk should support those who can't, pack up, and set off in one stick of incense." Shen Zhiwei gave the order. Her voice was still a little weak, but it was clearly heard throughout the temporary camp.
No one dared to question her orders.
No one wanted to question her orders.
Regrouping was even more difficult than the journey. The wounded needed help, and the snowstorm was still raging. Shen Zhiwei gave his horse to a soldier with a serious leg injury and walked with the others.
Xiao Wangqing refused the makeshift stretcher prepared by his personal guards, insisting on walking on his own. He leaned on his longsword, each step proving incredibly difficult. The wound on his shoulder bled continuously from the movement, and his face paled alarmingly. Shen Zhiwei walked beside him, occasionally reaching out to help him avoid slippery spots. His hands were extremely cold, his fingertips trembling slightly from the blood loss and the chill.
The return journey was exceptionally long, the snow and wind obscuring the traces of our journey. The sky was completely dark, with only the light of the torches flickering in the endless darkness, like fireflies.
Shen Zhiwei's fur coat had long been soaked by the snow, and the cold penetrated her bones. She always walked at the front of the team, exploring the way with the old guide, and looked back from time to time to check on Xiao Wangqing's condition.
After walking for an unknown amount of time, they finally saw the faint light of a military camp watchtower ahead. The soldiers left behind in the camp spotted them and immediately sent someone to meet them.
It was already late at night when we returned to the camp.
Qin Huaiyu had already brought his men to wait at the camp gate. Seeing the disheveled but basically intact team, especially Xiao Wangqing who was supported by Shen Zhiwei and his personal soldiers on his left and right, he was obviously relieved and ordered the military doctor to step forward to take over the wounded.
Xiao Wangqing was sent directly back to the commander's tent. The military doctor carefully examined his wound, cleaned it, applied medicine, and bandaged it, and then gave him a decoction to dispel the cold and replenish qi and blood. He had lost too much blood, and the cold had entered his body, so he soon fell asleep.
Shen Zhiwei stayed in the tent until the military doctor confirmed that his life was safe and he just needed a long period of rest, and only then did he feel relieved.
She herself was already at the end of her strength, wet and cold, and exhausted to death.
Qin Huaiyu arranged for her to rest in the military tent which had already been heated. Shen Zhiwei did not refuse. After a simple wash, she fell on the bed covered with thick fur and fell asleep instantly.
She slept soundly, not waking until the following afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the skylight, filling the tent with warmth. When she arose, she felt a throbbing pain all over her body, but she felt much better.
After having some simple porridge, she went to Xiao Wangqing's military tent.
The tent was thick with the scent of medicine. Xiao Wangqing was still unconscious, his complexion better than last night, but still pale. A personal guard was guarding the bedside. When he saw her enter, he saluted silently.
Shen Zhiwei walked to the bedside and reached out to test the temperature of his forehead. He still had a slight fever. She tucked the corner of the quilt for him, her eyes fixed on his tightly pursed lips and slightly furrowed brows.
He seemed uneasy even in his sleep.
She stood by the bed for a moment and was about to turn and leave when she heard him mutter in a very low voice.
The sound was unclear, but she vaguely caught two words.
“…Young Master…”
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