As if to prove something, Chen Yan stretched out his finger and pinched the wound hard.
His face turned deathly pale with pain, but he still stubbornly insisted that it didn't hurt.
Meng Qingluan was stunned by his self-destructive behavior.
Did he hit his head?
There was nothing inside the dilapidated temple, and even simple treatment for the wound was impossible.
Moreover, she was still recovering from a cold, and the cold sweat kept pouring down her forehead from waking up in the middle of the night and the long journey.
Meng Qingluan was somewhat anxious, angry at her own body for not being able to keep up with its demands, and worried that it would delay their escape.
Before leaving, Shen Yan casually grabbed an outer garment, changed out of the already torn one, and covered the wounds underneath.
"It's still early, and it's about to start snowing outside. Why don't you take a nap?" Chen Yan suggested.
Meng Qingluan looked out the window. Outside, a fierce wind was blowing, making the dilapidated old window rattle.
Originally, she didn't want to sleep, as she was still worried about Chen Yan's wounds.
Her body had been drained of energy by the illness, and despite her inner struggle, Meng Qingluan's eyelids still twitched.
Shen Yan walked outside and took out a letter that he had prepared a few days ago from his sleeve.
He had originally planned to wait a few days before taking Meng Qingluan away, but he hadn't expected that woman in the palace to be so impatient...
He placed it on the snow and turned to look for some dry firewood nearby.
When he returned with the firewood, the letter on the ground had already disappeared.
Pushing open the temple door, Meng Qingluan was already lying sprawled on the ground, fast asleep. Fortunately, there was dry grass in the temple, so it wasn't too cold.
Shen Yan put down the firewood, picked up Meng Qingluan and held her in his arms. He took off his outer robe and spread it on the dry grass before placing Meng Qingluan on it.
I raised my hand and touched her forehead; her body temperature, which had finally come down, rose again.
"Luanluan?" Shen Yan whispered in her ear.
"..."
Meng Qingluan clearly heard Shen Yan's voice and wanted to respond, but her eyelids were too heavy to open and her throat was too dry to make a sound.
After struggling for a while, they gave up in despair.
"Luanluan, can you hear me?" Shen Yan asked anxiously, his voice trembling.
"..."
Nonsense, she's just too weak, she's not dead.
Meng Qingluan cursed inwardly and weakly moved her fingers.
Shen Yan dared not delay, took out the matches he had hurriedly brought with him when he left, and quickly lit the fire.
Shen Yan hugged Meng Qingluan tightly, trying his best to transfer the warmth of his body to her.
If she is a monster who lives by absorbing human essence, then he will transfer all the energy in his body to her.
Chen Yan felt a mix of resentment and self-reproach.
It's all his fault; he's too thin and weak, so he must not have much energy.
Upon returning to the capital, he not only needed to replenish Meng Qingluan's qi and blood, but he also needed to replenish his own qi and blood.
That way, I can offer myself to her when she needs me.
"..."
Meng Qingluan slowly woke up after an unknown amount of time, and her lips were no longer as dry as before, but moist.
Her gaze slowly focused, and she realized that she was the only one left in the temple.
He was lying on a haystack covered with an outer shirt, and the fire was burning brightly.
Chen Yan had disappeared, and the temple gates were tightly shut.
When a person is sick, they are at their most vulnerable and insecure, not to mention that Meng Qingluan was already frightened by the bloody scene she had witnessed.
Open your eyes.
She was all alone in the vast, dilapidated temple, feeling utterly alone, as if she had fallen back into the nightmare she had just experienced.
It's alright, Shen Yan must have gone out to gather firewood. He'll be back in a bit.
Meng Qingluan comforted herself like a child just starting kindergarten, and sat up, her body aching.
"..."
It's unclear whether Meng Qingluan had too little patience or if time simply passed very quickly.
After a long while, he still hadn't appeared.
Meng Qingluan stood up, leaned over the temple entrance, and looked out, but it was pitch black and she couldn't see anything.
Meng Qingluan's eyes reddened, and she felt both fearful and anxious.
"What kind of best friend is she? She's clearly a fake best friend. She didn't even tell me she was going out. I couldn't speak, but I could hear her..."
He sat back down, but bad thoughts kept flashing through his mind, so he could only anxiously throw firewood into the fire.
The more Meng Qingluan thought about it, the more frightened and aggrieved she became. She forcefully stabbed the branch in her hand into the fire, sending countless small sparks flying.
"Creakâ"
The old temple door was pushed open, and the crackling sound of burning firewood was somewhat eerie.
Meng Qingluan looked up with delight and gazed towards the door, but her smile quickly faded before it could fully bloom.
It's not a sunken inkstone.
Instead...
Three or five burly men carrying large knives kicked open the door without any hesitation and swaggered into the temple.
A cool breeze blew in, carrying with it a strong smell of blood.
The pungent, nauseating, and terrifying smell of death.
Meng Qingluan feigned composure and withdrew her gaze, gripping the branch tightly until her knuckles turned white from the force.
He appeared calm, but he had actually been gone for a while.
Meng Qingluan was on the verge of tears.
Aren't these people dressed like that band of mountain bandits?
What should I do?
Kneeling and begging for mercy? Begging not to kill her, to give her ten seconds to escape...
Good news, these idiots don't seem to know her.
Bad news, they're walking towards me... Aa ...
None of them expected that there would be someone in the temple, especially a young woman all alone.
The men exchanged glances, their eyes gleaming with lewdness.
Meng Qingluan maintained a calm demeanor on the surface, but her entire body trembled like a leaf, and she unconsciously softened her breathing, desperately trying to minimize her presence.
Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. The leader of the bandits, a man with a thick beard, whistled maliciously at Meng Qingluan.
"Hey, where did this young lady come from? Why aren't you resting at home so late at night? What are you doing in this dilapidated temple?"
Meng Qingluan: "..."
The man's interest did not wane at all when he saw that she was silent. Instead, he moved closer and closer, and his words became increasingly offensive.
"Not speaking? Could it be a little fox spirit who has just transformed into human form, waiting here for her good older brother to come and drain their life essence?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the group burst into laughter.
"..."
Suck your father's big watermelon, you've been reading too much Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, you idiot!
Meng Qingluan naturally dared not utter a curse, fearing it would trigger a passive plot: "Little lady, so stubborn? Brother likes little firecrackers!"
Meng Qingluan's bright eyes flickered slightly, a sly glint in them.
Suddenly, he raised his head, tilted it to the side, and his two dark pupils met, making him look like a cross-eyed chicken.
"What did you say, bro?"
The burly man was startled by the way Meng Qingluan raised her head and took two steps back.
When I first entered the room, I saw half of Meng Qingluan's face in the candlelight and thought she was a delicate little beauty.
Only when I looked up did I see his true face. Not only were his eyes crossed, but there was also some shiny, unidentified liquid hanging from the corner of his mouth, and most importantly, his speech had a strong accent.
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