Chapter 5 Mei Xi (V) 'Perm it' [Edit]...
"Last night, the Concubine had a high fever and was mumbling, 'I need a burn'..."
Zhao's voice was as low as an ancient well and cold as a pond. He emphasized the three words "burn it" very heavily. They were like cold iron nails that wedged into the stagnant air in the hall and into Lin Jiaojiao's brain, which was numb from the hot porridge.
"…What exactly does that mean?"
Lin Jiaojiao still maintained her extremely impactful wolfing-down posture, holding a large mouthful of piping hot rice porridge, her cheeks bulging with food, her lips looking particularly rosy and shiny from the heat, even stained with a few naughty rice grains, her eyes, which were misted with moisture from the pain, high fever and hunger, now wide open with astonishment, staring blankly at Zhao at the door like a death-seeking judge.
What does it mean?
Her head buzzed, and she became a ball of yarn messed up by a cat.
The memories of last night came back like a flurry of snowflakes: the piercing pain, the hazy fever, the fear of dying, the sharp stone knife... and... her unconscious mumbling...
"Boil it?" she repeated subconsciously, her throat rolling as she tried to swallow the hot porridge, but ended up choking and coughing violently. "Cough! Cough cough cough..."
The cough was earth-shattering, and his already weak body was shaken like catkins in the wind. The wound on his right shoulder was pulled by the violent vibration, and the piercing pain instantly ran through his body like an electric current.
"Woo——" An uncontrollable cry of pain squeezed out from the depth of his throat, and tears rolled down his pale and red cheeks like pearls that had broken off the string, mixed with the coughed-up rice porridge residue, hanging on his chin and sticking to his hair at the temples. He looked so miserable that it was beyond words.
Chun was so frightened that she no longer cared about Zhao's overwhelming aura. She rushed over to pat Lin Jiaojiao's back to calm her down. In her panic, she was afraid to touch her shoulder. She was so anxious that tears burst out in an instant: "My Lady! My Lady, how are you? Please don't scare me! Spit it out! Spit it out!"
Lin Jiaojiao coughed so hard that her vision turned black, her internal organs were shifting, and the violent coughing left her no chance to breathe. Zhao's question was shattered by the tearing of her lungs and the severe pain in her shoulder blades. Only her instinctive reaction remained. Hiss, could you please not ask such questions during meals? All that was left in her mind was resentment.
Zhao watched the sudden chaos unfold from the doorway. He saw the once stunning beauty now weeping profusely, coughing ungraciously, tormented by a mouthful of porridge. Her breathtaking beauty was completely overshadowed by her utter desolation, leaving only a laughable weakness.
The inquiring cold light in his eyes seemed to freeze for a moment because of this extremely shocking real scene, and was stained with a barely perceptible... absurdity?
Lin Jiaojiao finally caught her breath, her lungs aching, tears streaming uncontrollably. The pain in her right shoulder was so intense it made her vision blur. She used her uninjured left hand to scramble and wipe the snot, tears, and rice mixture from her face. It was so embarrassing! She choked like this in front of others... Wait, is this the time to be thinking about this? She belatedly remembered that Zhao was still standing there.
She looked at Zhao with tearful eyes, her eyes were full of the pain of surviving the disaster and physical grievances, and even her voice was hoarse like a broken gong: "Woo... Zhao, Doctor Zhao... you... you almost choked me to death..." While she complained aggrievedly, she tried hard to swallow the hot thing stuck in her throat, which made her throat burn again.
She sniffed, tears welling up as she stared at Zhao's expressionless face. She tried to come up with a plausible explanation, but her mind was a mess after the violent coughing fits. Add to that the lingering pain and the dizziness from the fever, and logic went out the window. What should she do? Was it a dream? Was it because she was cold and wanted to warm herself? ... No, that knife, that obvious debridement move. The cold reflection of the flint knife from last night flashed through her mind at an inopportune moment.
She looked at Zhao's calm face, which was clearly waiting for her answer. She closed her eyes in despair and spoke in a weak voice with a heavy nasal tone and aggrieved sobbing tone, directly to the point:
"It's... it's... that knife... it's made of stone... it's too, too cold! Cutting the flesh... it will definitely hurt more... I just wish... I wish it wasn't so cold... to burn it... maybe... it wouldn't hurt so much?" Her voice got softer and softer as she spoke, and the last sentence was almost as soft as a mosquito's, mixed with sobs that she tried hard to suppress.
The air fell into an eerie silence.
Only Lin Jiaojiao's own suppressed sobs echoed in the hall, along with Chun's cautious sobs as he helped her to calm down.
Zhao stood there, facing the sunlight coming in from outside the door, making it difficult to see his specific expression, but he did not immediately refute or rebuke this extremely absurd and almost childish idea.
His calm gaze moved from the bowl of half-spilled golden rice porridge that had been overturned on the animal hide, to Lin Jiaojiao's left hand, which was tightly clutching the corner of her clothes, with her knuckles white with pain and fear. He then slowly swept over her eyebrows, which were completely blurred by tears, slightly twisted by pain, but still breathtakingly beautiful... and her cheeks, which were a mixture of tears, sweat, and rice porridge stains, looking disheveled but revealing a strangely fragile vitality.
The extremely terrified look in her eyes last night when she faced the flint knife, and the look on her face now as she was choked to death by a bowl of porridge and even gave such a "childish" reason for it... silently overlapped in Zhao's mind.
Perhaps... it wasn't a cover-up? It was simply that, cornered, under the torment of pain and fever, some illogical, childish thought, simply intended to alleviate the immediate suffering, had arisen? Like a frightened cub, wailing on instinct.
Those bottomless eyes seemed to flash across with extremely complex emotions, so fast that it was impossible to catch them.
He neither said he believed nor he said he did not believe.
He simply stood there in silence, his gaze once again fixed on Lin Jiaojiao's newly bandaged shoulder, still oozing with fresh blood. His scrutinizing gaze no longer held the same sharp suspicion as before, but more like... a hint of helpless understanding? And the kind of silent condemnation a doctor might give when a patient disobeys medical advice...
Lin Jiaojiao felt frightened by his gaze and subconsciously tried to hide herself, but every time she moved, it hurt her wound, causing her to gasp in pain and not dare to move again.
Finally, Zhao moved. He no longer asked about the troublesome question of "burn it" and just walked over.
Lin Jiaojiao and Chun were so scared that they tensed up.
He ignored the mess on Lin Jiaojiao's face, nor did he care about the spilled porridge. He walked straight to the couch, bent down, and his figure with a faint herbal scent instantly enveloped them.
Lin Jiaojiao was so nervous that she almost forgot to breathe. Her eyes were fixed on his bony fingers, afraid that he would take out something terrible from his sleeve in the next second.
But Zhao just calmly and skillfully untied the bandage on her shoulder that was loosened due to bleeding due to violent coughing. His movements were precise and quick, with an unquestionable sense of professionalism. His fingers were cold, like jade, and occasionally they inadvertently brushed against the exposed warm skin on the side of her neck, causing a small shudder.
Lin Jiaojiao closed her eyes tightly, frowned, and waited for the imagined pain to come.
However--
The expected pain was not as terrible. Zhao's movements were much faster than last night, and more stable and calm.
He simply checked the tear quickly, and used a new cloth soaked in some cool, pungent liquid to press quickly and with moderate force to stop the bleeding, then applied a thick layer of new ointment with a bitter smell, and finally re-bandaged and fixed it with clean linen. The whole process was smooth and fast, almost making her unaware, and the pain was much lighter than expected.
[Trauma treatment in progress… External intervention source (Zhao) Operation: Efficient and professional. Risk of secondary wound laceration: Controllable. Physiological stress response: Slightly decreased.] The system's prompt tone became much calmer.
After the bandage was finished, Zhao Zhi stood up and looked at Lin Jiaojiao, whose face was still pale, her eyes tightly closed, and she looked like a victim, with tears hanging on her long eyelashes. She looked relieved and a little aggrieved at the moment...
His gaze lingered on her disheveled yet still alluring profile for a moment, then quickly moved away.
"The concubine's injury has not healed yet," he said, his voice regaining the usual calmness of a doctor, but less cold than before, with an almost deliberate indifference, "food should be taken slowly, and emotions... should not be so turbulent. Rest quietly and recuperate." His eyes swept meaningfully over the mess of golden rice porridge and the spilled porridge stains on the ground.
After saying this, he didn't even glance at Lin Jiaojiao, nor did he pay attention to Chun who looked relieved. He turned around and strode out of the side hall. The dark robe flashed at the door and disappeared in the dim light of the early morning, like a brief interlude.
Once again, the only sounds in the hall were the two people's heavy breathing and the lingering silence.
Lin Jiaojiao slowly opened her eyes and breathed a long, silent sigh of relief, feeling her back soaked with cold sweat. She must have passed? Had she managed to get away with it?
She looked down at the bandage on her shoulder, which was still oozing with fresh blood, then at the half-bowl of golden, cold rice porridge on the ground. Then she thought about her embarrassing coughing performance just now, and an indescribable feeling of grievance and bitterness suddenly surged in her heart.
"Woo..." She pursed her lips and tears came out again. Her voice was filled with sobs, and she complained in a low voice with grievance and annoyance, "My porridge... woo woo... it's wasted... fragrant and thick millet porridge... I haven't eaten enough..." Her stomach made a loud "gurgling" sound at the right time, protesting the abandoned feeding operation.
Chun hurriedly brought over the remaining half bowl of porridge that had not been spilled but was no longer hot, "My Lady, there is still a little bit...you..."
Lin Jiaojiao looked at the bowl of porridge she had found, sniffed, and with a tearful determination that "food is truth," she took the bowl again. "Who cares? Nothing matters. Filling my stomach is the most important thing!" This time, she learned her lesson and slowly began to eat, taking small bites.
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