Chapter 27: Inflammation of the wound, guarding all night
Two days later, the moonlight was at its brightest, and everything in the courtyard was shrouded in a gentle silver veil. However, this tranquility was disturbed by the sound of suppressed and painful breathing from within the house, stirring an undercurrent.
Shen Ye sat cross-legged on a low couch in the outer room, attempting to calm the increasingly frantic Qi within him, fueled by his emotional fluctuations. However, his mind could not fully calm down. His hearing, incredibly sharp, kept him involuntarily picking up every movement of the person in the inner room.
At first, he could still hear her steady, long breathing, knowing that she had fallen asleep. But he didn't know when, the breathing began to become rapid and disordered, mixed with almost inaudible moans.
Shen Ye's brows slowly wrinkled in the darkness.
He rose silently, like a wisp of smoke, and quietly came to the door of the inner room. He did not push the door open, but stood there quietly, concentrating all his senses on hearing.
The person in the room seemed trapped in some kind of nightmare. She tossed and turned, the blankets rustling against each other. Her breathing grew hotter, as if each breath carried scorching heat.
Something is wrong.
This thought flashed through Shen Ye's mind. He no longer hesitated, gently pushed open the door, and walked in sideways.
There was no light in the room, only moonlight filtering through the window, casting mottled shadows on the ground. He immediately saw the curled-up figure on the bed, hugging the quilt tightly, her body trembling slightly.
He walked to the bed and saw her face clearly in the moonlight.
Her cheeks were flushed with an abnormal red, her lips were chapped, and her forehead was covered with a layer of fine beads of sweat, which had already soaked the hair at her temples. Shen Ye reached out and carefully touched her forehead with the back of his hand.
Piping hot!
It was an astonishing heat, as if it was not human skin that was touching, but a piece of iron that had been burned by fire.
The wound became inflamed.
Chen Ye's heart sank suddenly.
He knew that she had sustained multiple injuries that day in the valley, her injuries being extremely severe. Although she had recovered somewhat under his care, her vitality had ultimately been damaged. Furthermore, the intense training she had put into swordsmanship over the previous few days had exhausted her. With the old injuries still unhealed and the new strain added to the strain, she finally gave way and erupted completely.
For an assassin, wounds and death are commonplace. Chen Ye has seen countless wounds and dealt with countless bloody scenes. His heart should have been as hard as iron and as cold as ice.
But at this moment, looking at the woman lying on the bed who was unconscious due to high fever, what surged in his heart was an emotion called "panic" that he had never experienced before.
This wasn't the vigilance one feels when facing a powerful enemy, nor was it the frustration one feels when a mission fails. This was a pure, heartfelt feeling of powerlessness.
He could kill a hundred enemies, but he didn't know how to dispel the damnable fever that was devouring her life force.
"Water...water..." Su Qinghan murmured unconsciously in a coma.
The night was like a dream just beginning to dawn. He immediately turned around, walked quickly to the table, and poured a cup of herbal tea. He returned to the bedside, knelt on one knee, and with one hand gently lifted her upper body, letting her lean against him, while with the other hand he brought the cup to her lips.
"Drink some water." His voice was a little hoarse and... gentle, which he himself had not noticed.
Su Qinghan seemed to sense a hint of coolness, and instinctively opened her mouth, greedily drinking a few sips. The cold tea slid down her throat, seeming to make her feel a little better, and her brows relaxed slightly.
Chen Ye laid her down again, fetched a basin of cold water, soaked a cloth in it, and placed it on her forehead, hoping to cool her down a little.
After doing all this, he sat down on the footstool beside the bed and watched over her quietly.
Time passes bit by bit in silence.
Chen Ye's gaze never left Su Qinghan's face.
He looked at her cheeks flushed by the high fever, her furrowed brows, and her eyelashes that occasionally trembled in pain. He discovered that this usually cool, resolute, and heroic woman could also be so fragile and in need of protection when facing illness.
His heart felt like it was being tightly grasped by an invisible hand, making it feel sore, swollen, and difficult to breathe.
The mental method of the "Heart Sutra without Light" automatically circulated in his mind, trying to suppress these unnecessary emotions and let him return to the ruthless and desireless "Candle Shadow".
But this time, it failed.
He couldn't suppress it. What emerged in his mind was not the Assassin's Creed, nor the code of the mission.
It was her agile and graceful posture when she practiced sword in the sun.
It was her eyes that curved into crescents and were filled with smiles when she saw herself covered in dust from chopping wood.
It was the cold and sharp question she asked when she was countering his attack: "Isn't it your sword?"
These pictures, frame by frame, are so clear and so vivid.
They were like beams of warm light, forcing their way into his dark, isolated city, frozen for over twenty years. Wherever the light reached, the ice and snow melted, revealing the soft, untouched land beneath.
It turns out that he also cares about someone.
It turns out that he also feels pain for a person's pain.
It turns out that he, a man who was trained as a killing tool, also has the same emotions as ordinary people deep in his heart.
Just as he was feeling agitated, Su Qinghan on the bed suddenly started mumbling.
Her voice was soft, tearful, broken and desperate.
"father……"
Shen Ye's body suddenly stiffened, and all his thoughts froze at this moment.
"Dad... my daughter is unfilial... my daughter is useless..."
"My daughter can't find the murderer... can't take revenge... Dad... are you disappointed..."
"It's so cold... Dad... I'm so cold..."
The tearful cries were like red-hot knives, stabbing into Shen Ye's heart.
My heart is broken.
For the first time, he understood the meaning of the word so clearly.
That name, "Su Zhenting." That was the "letter of surrender" he had taken years ago to prove his worth and become an official assassin of the Tianji Pavilion. That was the name he defined as the "starting point" and "merit" of his assassin career.
At this moment, this name, spoken through the mouth of his beloved woman, turned into the heaviest shackles and the most vicious curse, nailing him firmly to the spot.
He looked at her.
Look at this woman tormented by hatred.
Look at this woman who has turned herself into a sharp blade in order to avenge her so-called "father".
Looking at this woman who is as fragile as a fallen leaf at this moment, but is still blaming herself for the deep blood feud.
A huge and absurd wave instantly submerged him.
He saved her, fell in love with her, and wanted to protect her.
He stretched out his hand, wanting to touch her cheek and wipe away the tears from her eyes, but his hand froze in mid-air.
These hands...
These hands are covered in blood.
What right did he have to comfort her? What right did he have to touch her?
Chen Ye's hand trembled violently in the air. He suddenly pulled his hand back and clenched it into a fist, his nails digging deep into his palm. The stinging sensation was far less than one ten-thousandth of the pain in his heart.
He wanted to escape, wanted to leave this place immediately and escape from this truth that was suffocating him.
But when he looked at the figure on the bed still moaning helplessly, his feet seemed to be rooted and he couldn't move a step.
He can't leave.
What will she do if he leaves?
If the high fever does not subside, it will damage the brain and even cause death.
Call a doctor? No way. This place was his secret base. If it was exposed, the Tianji Pavilion and the Six Gates would come after him. By then, both of them would be in an irretrievable situation.
What should I do? What should I do?
Shen Ye's heart was experiencing an unprecedented struggle between reason and emotion, sin and love, tearing at each other frantically in his mind, nearly tearing his sanity apart.
“Cold… so cold…”
Su Qinghan's helpless murmur pulled him back from the brink of collapse.
He saw her body begin to tremble violently and uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. This was a reaction to the extreme high fever.
We can’t wait any longer!
Chen Ye's eyes suddenly became extremely resolute.
He knew that there was only one last resort.
He used his inner strength to keep her warm and prolong her life.
But... his internal energy, derived from the "Lightless Heart Sutra," is one of the most yin and cold internal skills in the world. This power, when used for stealth, restraining aura, and even killing, is an unparalleled method. But when used to save people...
He doesn't know.
He didn't know whether this icy true energy flowing into her body would neutralize her high fever, or would make the situation worse and directly destroy her already fragile vitality.
This is a big gamble.
If she lost the bet, she would die. Die at his hands, for the second time.
Shen Ye's breathing became extremely heavy.
He looked at her pale face, and the person named "Chen Ye" in his heart and the assassin named "Zhu Ying" started the final showdown.
Love triumphs over rules.
He took a deep breath, and all the hesitation and struggle in his eyes faded away, leaving only reckless determination.
He gently straightened Su Qinghan's body and asked her to sit cross-legged. Then, he walked around behind her and sat cross-legged.
He hesitated again and again, but finally stretched out his hand, the hand that once held the "Moment of Beauty" sword, pierced countless throats, and clumsily chopped firewood and cooked for her.
He slowly placed his palm on her back.
Through a thin layer of clothing, he could clearly feel the amazing heat coming from her vest and the weak beating of her heart.
Chen Ye closed his eyes and began to carefully activate the true energy of the "Lightless Heart Sutra" in his body.
A mellow and cold internal force, like a cold spring in the mountains, slowly flowed from his palm into Su Qinghan's body.
The moment the true energy touched her meridians, Shen Ye's heart rose to her throat.
He could sense her body instinctively resisting a slight movement. Two forces of diametrically opposed natures were clashing within her.
Chen Ye immediately slowed down the flow of his internal energy, and used his powerful mental strength to wrap and tame the icy true energy, making it as gentle as possible, like a soft silk thread, carefully traveling through her meridians that had become fragile due to the high fever.
This is an extremely mentally exhausting process.
What he wanted to do was not to use his strength to attack or conquer, but to guide and comfort her. He transformed his true energy into an icy barrier, gradually enveloping, neutralizing, and dispelling the heat and poison that raged through her body.
Beads of sweat streamed down his forehead, and his face grew increasingly pale due to the immense consumption of his internal energy.
But his hand remained firmly on her back, without even the slightest tremor.
He didn't sleep all night.
All his thoughts and thoughts were focused on that one hand. He felt her pain, shared her burning pain, and used his own life essence to build a dam for her against death.
The moon outside the window was setting in the west, and a hint of paleness was appearing in the eastern sky.
When the first ray of morning light shone through the window lattice and illuminated the dust in the house, the night finally slowly and tiredly withdrew its hand.
The woman before him, her breathing had become steady and long again, the abnormal flush on her face had faded, returning to her former fair complexion. She was sleeping soundly and peacefully.
Chen Ye looked at her peaceful sleeping face. For the first time, that always tense and expressionless face showed an extremely faint but heartfelt smile.
That smile contained endless fatigue, but also a sense of relief.
He won.
He used his own way to snatch her back from the brink of death.
He gently laid her down and covered her with the quilt.
Absolute silence returned to the courtyard. Even the chirping of insects had died down. Only the moon in the sky was still hanging coldly, silently watching the joys and sorrows of those living under the eaves.
The candle flame in the lamp burned to its last flame, flickering twice before finally going out, leaving only a wisp of faint blue smoke. Moonlight became the only source of light in the room, filtering through the window lattice and casting a mottled silver frost on the ground.
On the bed, Su Qinghan's breathing was even and shallow, clearly deep in sleep. After the high fever subsided, a hint of color finally returned to her pale face, but a lingering trace of fatigue still lingered between her brows.
Shen Ye sat on a small stool beside the bed, motionless, like a silent statue.
He didn't dare sleep.
The high fever she had suffered during the day came suddenly and fiercely. Her whole body was burning hot, and she fell into a coma, muttering constantly.
Now, her temperature has come down and her breathing has become steady.
But Chen Ye didn't dare relax even a little. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, the damn fever would return, dragging her into the abyss of pain once again. This fear was something he had never experienced in his assassin career, more terrifying than facing any powerful enemy.
He watched silently, his eyes tracing her sleeping profile in the moonlight, his ears catching her every steady breath. Time slipped away in silence, his spirit, exhausted from the day's exhaustion and the current high alert, was already at its limit.
Fatigue finally came like an irresistible tide, sweeping over us wave after wave.
At first, he could still rely on his strong willpower to hold on. But gradually, his eyelids became as heavy as a thousand pounds, and every time he opened them, he needed to exhaust all his strength. The scene before him began to blur, and Su Qinghan's outline melted in the moonlight, as if it had turned into a gentle phantom.
He knew he couldn't hold on any longer.
He tried to move his stiff body, wanted to stand up and walk around to dispel the sleepiness, but his body was like lead, and he would not obey.
Finally, the mental string that was stretched to the extreme broke completely in the long tug-of-war with fatigue.
His head slowly drooped uncontrollably, finally resting gently on the edge of the bed. He subconsciously folded his arms and placed them under his body, as if this would bring him closer to her and allow him to be the first to notice anything unusual.
This posture was not comfortable, even a little cramped, but he was no longer able to adjust it.
The heavy fatigue completely devoured his last bit of clarity.
Chen Ye's eyes, always sharp as an eagle's, finally slowly closed. His long, dense eyelashes cast a light shadow beneath his eyelids, obscuring all the sharpness and coldness.
His breathing also gradually changed from being deliberately suppressed and short to becoming even and long, gradually merging with the breathing of the person on the bed.
The moonlight flowed silently, enveloping his figure lying on the bed and her sleeping figure, outlining an extremely quiet and fragile picture.
At this moment, he was no longer the "Zhuying" who was feared by the world.
He was just an extremely exhausted man who was guarding the woman he loved.
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