Deep within the misty forest, the black sky exudes an eerie aura, and a sense of oppression permeates the air, making it suffocating.
The faint roars of wild beasts drifted through the cold night wind, rising and falling, near and far, mingling with the low, mournful sound of the wind, like the wailing of a wild ghost, sending shivers down one's spine.
Surrounded by bushes, two figures sat under a towering tree, blending into the darkness, one of them constantly moving closer to the other.
"Can you fucking stop crowding around me?!" Fu Wenzhou, unable to contain himself any longer, said in an icy voice, "Get away from me!"
Yun Nian touched her nose and looked at him innocently: "But I'm afraid of the dark."
Fu Wenzhou's arm veins bulged, clearly he had reached his limit: "You've lived here alone for so many years, and you're telling me you're afraid of the dark?"
Yun Nian blinked: "I don't go out at night."
Fu Wenzhou: "..."
He closed his eyes, feeling utterly exhausted.
He and Youyou don't want to have children in the future. Taking care of children is too tiring. The two of them are fine.
Yun Nian thought he was asleep, so she snuggled closer to him.
Fu Wenzhou suddenly opened his eyes, gritting his teeth as he said, "You'd better cure my wife's illness, or I'll make sure you and your master die together!"
Yun Nian stiffened and shrank back: "If it's a terminal illness, there's nothing I can do."
Fu Wenzhou really wanted to kick him. The only reason he had tolerated him for so long was because this man was Yun Fang's apprentice.
He took a slow breath, trying to make his voice sound less agitated: "Yun Nian, come on, repeat after me."
"What are you reciting?" Yun Nian asked, puzzled.
“Tell me, I can definitely cure Fu Wenzhou’s wife’s illness.”
“A monk doesn’t lie. What if your wife has a terminal illness…” A flash of light, and Yun Nian felt a cold touch on his neck. He swallowed hard and quickly changed the subject: “I can definitely cure Fu Wenzhou’s wife’s illness.”
Fu Wenzhou narrowed his long, narrow eyes dangerously, slowly sheathed his short sword, and wiped the blade with his clothes: "You'd better remember what you said. If you can't cure him, you can go down and join your master."
Yun Nian pursed her lips. "What you're doing is no different from an ancient feudal emperor ordering the imperial physician to save his concubine. It's too unreasonable and domineering."
Fu Wenzhou frowned immediately and snorted coldly: "Of course there is, the difference is that my Youyou can only be the empress, and I will not take any concubines."
Yun Nian was completely speechless.
Although most of what the other party said was just a threat and they wouldn't actually kill him.
But Yun Nian still felt that this person was a little mentally unstable; his world seemed to revolve around the person named Song Qingyou.
But how can a normal person's life always revolve around another person?
So Yun Nian kindly suggested, "How about I take your pulse? I think you might have some kind of blood stasis in your brain."
"Clotted blood?"
“Hmm.” Yun Nian said, “If a blood vessel in the brain is blocked, this can happen to you. For example, your brain circuits are different from ordinary people, your temper is unstable, you are irritable and easily angered, and most importantly, you are very prone to paranoia.”
Fu Wenzhou remained silent for a full three seconds. Yun Nian originally thought he would fly into a rage and then put the knife to his neck again.
Surprisingly, he simply asked in a low voice, "Would it hurt my wife if the situation got serious?"
Yun Nian was stunned.
Then the other person looked up at the moonlight and said in a lazy tone, "I am quite obsessive. My wife often says I'm sick. I never thought I was really sick in the head."
"..."
Then, as if he had just thought of something, the man's face turned grim: "If we need to operate to remove the blood clot, wouldn't I have to shave my head? That won't do! My wife loves this hairstyle; she specifically asked me to cut her wolf tail! What if my wife doesn't love me anymore if I shave my head?"
He grabbed Yun Nian's arm: "Is there any way to remove the stuff in my brain without opening my skull?"
Yun Nian: ...
"Speak up! Are you mute?" Fu Wenzhou said impatiently.
Yun Nian hesitated for a long time before saying tactfully, "How about we give up? I think you're beyond saving."
Fu Wenzhou: "...It can't be that serious, can it? Is the illness that severe?"
Yun Nian nodded and then shook her head, finally choosing to steer the conversation elsewhere: "How much longer until we can get out of here?"
Fu Wenzhou lifted his eyelids and glanced at the sky above. Dark clouds obscured the moon, and towering trees made it impossible to see any sky at all.
He said calmly, "Three and a half days."
"Oh," Yun Nian said thoughtfully, "Didn't you say your wife only gives you seven days?"
Fu Wenzhou's heart skipped a beat: "Damn it!"
Yun Nian: "Stop swearing all the time."
"Don't bring up things you don't want to talk about," Fu Wenzhou sneered.
Yun Nian stopped talking, took out a bottle of medicine from her body and handed it to him: "Take this."
Fu Wenzhou took it, poured out a pill, and swallowed it in one gulp.
Yun Nian said, "Eating one a day will speed up the healing of your wound."
Thanks.
Hearing him thank him, Yun Nian felt only horror.
For a while afterward, neither of them spoke, and they closed their eyes to rest.
Two hours later, Fu Wenzhou woke Yun Nian up: "Let's go."
Yun Nian rubbed her eyes and was about to get up when she saw Fu Wenzhou's expression suddenly change.
He asked curiously, "What's wrong?"
Fu Wenzhou stared intently at what was behind Yun Nian, his voice deep and resonant: "Don't move."
Yun Nian gradually felt a chill run down his spine, a fear that instinctively surged forth from his body, a fear of possibly facing death. He kept swallowing as he watched Fu Wenzhou swiftly draw the short knife he had used to threaten him along the way from his waist.
Yun Nian didn't dare to turn around: "Fu Wenzhou, what...what's behind me?"
"Snake." A thin layer of sweat beaded on Fu Wenzhou's forehead, his expression cold and stern: "A python."
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