Chapter 63 The Pavilion Lost in the Mist, the Moon Lost in the River (Part 7) On the back of my hand, caught off guard…
After an unknown amount of time, the boat lurched slightly, and the boatman's drawn-out shout came from outside: "We're docking!"
Following the gentle breeze from the river, she discerned the direction of the window. She quietly rose and nimbly approached the window, feeling for the latch. Luckily, the latch wasn't locked from the outside. She gently parted it, and a cool breeze carrying the scent of moisture and vegetation immediately rushed in. Outside, it seemed dusk was approaching, the light dim.
Without hesitation, she lifted the hem of her robe, braced herself against the window frame, and leaped out!
With a "plop," the icy river water instantly enveloped her. Although the early summer weather was warm, the river water was still bone-chillingly cold. She struggled to the surface, flung away the splashes, and began to paddle frantically.
"Someone has fallen into the water! Quick, save them!" Exclamations and hurried footsteps immediately came from the boat.
Immediately afterwards, a familiar yet angry voice shouted, "Useless! What kind of judgment is this!"
It's Yun Yi!
Ye Yixiang's heart tightened, and she swam even faster. However, she hadn't gone far when she heard several muffled thuds of heavy objects hitting the water behind her. Immediately, a strong arm gripped her waist tightly and dragged her in the opposite direction without warning.
"Young lady, you should save your energy." Yun Yi's voice rang in her ears, moist with moisture, but also carrying an undeniable firmness. "That way, it will be easier for both of us."
After struggling in vain, Ye Yixiang was half-dragged and half-carried ashore, and then placed horizontally on the back of a horse that had been prepared beforehand, like cargo.
After a long and bumpy ride, her stomach, already full of river water, was churning violently. As soon as she was thrown off the horse, she curled up on the ground and vomited until only bile remained.
Her soaked clothes clung to her body, and the evening breeze made her shiver. She was led into what seemed to be a rather quiet courtyard, where two silent maids came forward and, without a word, changed her into clean, warm clothes, and then wrung out her long hair with a soft towel.
Everyone left, and the room fell silent.
Ye Yixiang listened intently, trying to judge the environment from subtle differences in breathing, smell, and even air movement.
However, in the midst of this silence, she suddenly noticed something else – besides herself, there was another extremely faint, intermittent breathing sound in the room.
The breathing was very soft, carrying a suppressed pain, coming from deeper within the room. In the air, besides the faint scent of soap sachets from newly changed clothes, there seemed to be a faint…very faint smell of blood.
Her heart suddenly jumped.
Footsteps echoed from the corridor outside the door, and a slightly aged voice said, "It's time to change the medicine for the shopkeeper."
Immediately following was Yun Yi's calm reply: "I'll do it."
The door was pushed open, and Yun Yi walked in carrying something.
Ye Yixiang heard the sound of water, seemingly the sound of ge cloth being rinsed and wrung out in a copper basin. Then, there was the rustling sound of fabric rubbing together, and a short, painful groan that was being suppressed but still escaped from the throat.
The smell of blood in the air suddenly became more pronounced.
"Please bear with it a little longer, Master." Yun Yi's voice was very low, with an almost respectful tone of reassurance. "Your subordinate... has brought the person you most want to see."
Ye Yixiang held her breath, her fingers unconsciously clenching the mattress beneath her. Zhe Yu…who exactly is she?
Why would Qiankunfang go to such great lengths, even at the cost of blinding her again, just to bring her to the seriously injured Zheyu?
This problem had been troubling her. Because she was blind, her sense of time became blurred and drawn out. She could only painstakingly calculate the days in her mind by relying on some fixed sounds and patterns.
Twice a day, a maid would silently bring the meal, which was usually a bowl of porridge and three dishes, a light yet refined combination, and occasionally seasonal fruits.
The bowls and plates are made of delicate porcelain, and they make a crisp sound when touched.
She tried to ask questions or show any intention to communicate, but the maid who brought the food was like a mute, leaving the food box and walking away without ever lingering or responding.
The guards at the gate changed shifts very regularly, about every four hours. Their footsteps were steady and their breathing was even, indicating that they were all trained in martial arts.
The clearest marker of time was that twice a day, morning and evening, Yun Yi would personally bring the medicine box to change the wound dressings for the person on the bed in the inner room.
For the first few days, the man's breathing was so faint that it was almost impossible to hear, mixed with Yun Yi's very light footsteps, the sound of water, and the occasional suppressed groans.
Ye Yixiang lay on the low couch by the window, her hearing amplified to the extreme in the absolute darkness.
She could hear the rustling of Yun Yi's clothes as he moved, the subtle "snip" of scissors cutting through old bandages, the light clinking of the porcelain spoon against the jade box as the new ointment was applied, and... as the dressing was changed, the man's breathing grew heavier yet he still tried his best to suppress it.
The air was thick with the mingled smells of blood and bitter medicine, so intense it was almost unsettling.
She once tried to find the indistinct curtain leading to the inner room while Yunyi was changing her dressings.
But with just the slight rustling of clothes, Yun Yi's icy voice came through the curtain: "Miss, you'd better sit down."
Her tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable warning. The guard at the door tensed slightly. She could only retreat to her original position.
The surveillance here is suffocatingly tight. Except for the fixed times for delivering meals and changing medicine, there are always people on guard outside the door.
The windows were sealed shut, with only a small vent at the very top allowing a faint light and some air to pass through.
She once took the opportunity of being briefly taken out of the room to use the toilet to feel the path and terrain with her toes and body.
The corridor here is winding and paved with smooth stone slabs. The courtyard seems quite large, and you can smell the scent of grass, trees and soil. But it is eerily quiet. Apart from the sound of the wind and birdsong, you can hardly hear any human voices or the sounds of chickens and dogs in the distance. It is like a secluded and desolate villa in the wilderness.
Forcing your way in or calling for help would be futile and would only alert the enemy.
So she began to behave "well-behaved." She ate the food that was brought to her quietly; she cooperated when the maids were tying her hair and changing her clothes; most of the time, she stayed quietly on her couch or sat quietly on a chair outside the curtain of the inner room, as if she had accepted the status quo and given up the struggle.
The time swallowed by darkness was long and lonely.
To combat the almost maddening silence and emptiness, and also because of... some complex emotions that even she herself could not understand, she began to speak softly towards the inner room.
At first, it was just fragmented self-talk, muttering about trivial things, such as the porridge seeming thicker today than yesterday, or the bird outside the window calling in a different tone.
Later, somehow, the conversation gradually shifted to more distant memories: anecdotes from her childhood, miscellaneous books she had read, and local legends she had heard.
Her voice was not loud, but it sounded exceptionally clear in the empty and quiet room, and it had a deliberately soft tone.
She knew the person inside was most likely unconscious, unable to hear, or even if they could hear, unable to respond. But this self-talk became her only way to fight off fear in the boundless darkness.
After lunch, the maids cleared away the dishes, and the room returned to silence. The faint, hoarse chirping of cicadas drifted in from outside the window; the air was slightly dry, indicating it was past noon. She groped her way to a chair by the inner room door and sat down, facing the curtain, remaining silent for a moment.
"Today, let me tell you a story about mermaids." She suddenly spoke, her voice softer than usual. "It's a story I read when I was young, from a well-worn book of folk tales. I don't know if it's true or not, but when I read it back then... I felt a sense of poignant beauty and melancholy."
She paused, as if sorting through distant memories, and then slowly said, "It is said that beyond the South Sea, there are mermaids who live in deep ravines. Their tears turn into pearls, and they weave water into silk. Their beauty is unparalleled. There was a young fisherwoman who had to go out to sea by boat because her husband was ill."
"One day at sea, they encountered an unusual storm. The mast broke, the cabin took on water, and it seemed that the ship was about to be destroyed and everyone was about to perish. In despair, they suddenly saw a huge wave parting like a wall in front of them, and a figure emerged from the water. His long black hair was like seaweed, his skin was white and almost transparent, and his face... The book says that he was 'more radiant than the moonlight and more beautiful than coral.' It turned out to be a man."
"The merman said nothing, but silently lifted her wrecked boat and, with an incredible power, carried her and the boat to a shore covered with nameless wildflowers."
"The fisherwoman, still shaken and awestruck by the mermaid's unparalleled beauty and magical powers, stood frozen in place, at a loss for what to do. The mermaid, however, remained silent, gazing at her with eyes as deep and still as the most profound blue sea, his gaze unfathomable."
"The mermaid said that many years ago, he was caught in a fishing net and was on the verge of death. It was she, a young girl, who was playing on the beach and secretly let him go. He remembered her scent. Today, seeing her in danger, he came to rescue her." Ye Yixiang spoke slowly, yet with a timeless, legendary quality. "When the mermaid saw the old and new bruises on her bare arms and the fear in her eyes that she had to risk going out to sea for her seriously ill husband, he silently shed tears. The tears rolled down and turned into lustrous pearls in the moonlight."
"The fisherwoman picked up the pearl, as if in a dream. She used the pearl to exchange for money, hired a doctor, and got the best medicine, finally saving her husband's life."
As the story reached this point, Ye Yixiang suddenly felt a tightness in her throat. She stopped, groping for the armrest to get up and go to the table in the outer room to pour out the cup of tea that had long since gone cold.
The chair made a slight creaking sound as she stretched out her hand, her fingertips tracing the edge of the table in the air.
A warm touch suddenly came from the back of my hand.
It was a hand, the palm slightly damp and weak from the recent healing of an injury, with long, slender fingers and distinct knuckles, which completely covered the back of her outstretched hand.
Immediately afterwards, a hoarse, dry voice, almost unrecognizable, sounded softly close to her ear, its breath slightly unsteady:
"Then what?"
Ye Yixiang trembled violently, her outstretched hand froze in mid-air, and she even caught her breath for a moment. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, and the blood seemed to rush to her head.
He's awake?
When did you wake up? How long were you awake? Were you... listening quietly the whole time?
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com