Chapter 35
Moonlight crept over the edge of the bed, spilling onto the sheets that Su Zhelan was clutching tightly. The torn hem of his shirt was exposed, revealing a red mark that looked like a conspicuous brand, burning his eyes.
He raised his hand to his forehead, his fingertips icy cold, but his mind was a chaotic mess, like a peach orchard swept by a raging storm.
As he set off in the early morning, he was still figuring out how to calm Sheng Xuan's impulsiveness and take advantage of Xiao Qiyun's gentleness, making both of them his protectors when he was trying to evade the cult's pursuit.
The general's mansion was powerful, and as long as they were willing to protect him, those pursuers wouldn't dare to come knocking easily. He thought he had calculated things perfectly, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far, so as not to arouse their suspicion nor to get himself into trouble.
But when did it start to get out of control?
Was it when Sheng Xuan, with red eyes, said "I like you" under the peach blossoms, that unadulterated stubbornness shattered his pretense? Or was it when he bumped into Xiao Qiyun behind the tree, and saw the unspoken understanding in the other's eyes, that made him feel flustered for the first time? Or was it just now, when Xiao Qiyun pressed down on him, declaring "I was here first" in such a domineering way, that completely tore apart all his control?
The word "exploit" was like a needle, piercing his self-deceptive peace. He had only wanted to use this shelter to temporarily escape the storm, how did he end up getting himself involved as well?
Su Zhelan scratched his head, a few stray strands getting tangled between his fingers. Sheng Xuan's confession was filled with youthful passion, impulsive yet sincere; Xiao Qiyun's entanglement concealed adult calculation, gentle yet obsessive. These two drastically different expressions of love were like two tightly bound ropes, trapping him in the middle, making him feel suffocated with every movement.
What made him even more helpless was the strange fluctuation in his heart. The panic when Sheng Xuan kissed him, the trembling when Xiao Qiyun touched him, even the uncontrollable flutter when his fingertips touched Xiao Qiyun's warm skin during the struggle just now... all of these reminded him that things had already gone off track.
He never dared to believe any of this. The shadow of being abandoned as a child, the exploitation and betrayal he was accustomed to in the cult, made him like a frightened bird, avoiding all close relationships. Getting close meant risk, and falling in love was like handing someone a sharp weapon to hurt him. But now, he had not only let these two people intrude, but they had also thrown him into complete disarray.
“What to do…” Su Zhelan muttered to himself, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing against wood. He curled up and buried his face in the pillow. The fabric his nose touched still carried the scent of Xiao Qiyun’s mint, which mixed with the grassy smell of Sheng Xuan, becoming a poison that disturbed his thoughts.
Who to choose? How to choose? He can't even protect himself, so how can he reciprocate anyone's affection? Besides, he had an ulterior motive from the beginning, and once this deception is exposed, it will only lead to mutual destruction.
Countless thoughts clashed in his mind, buzzing like headless flies. The cult's pursuit, Sheng Xuan's persistence, Xiao Qiyun's obsession, his own lies, his fear of intimacy... all tangled into an unsolvable mess, making his temples throb.
As the moonlight gradually slanted westward, the shadow of the window frame shifted half an inch on the ground.
Su Zhelan turned over, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. His chaotic thoughts were like a tide washing over him, blurring little by little. He was too tired. From the tension of the morning to the chaos of the afternoon, and then to the fear and shame just now, his nerves were already overwhelmed.
"I can't think anymore..." he mumbled groggily, snuggling deeper into the covers, temporarily putting all his worries aside. Whatever, I'll just get some sleep first.
Her breathing gradually evened out, tears still clinging to her eyelashes, yet she had already fallen into a deep sleep. The fragrance of flowers outside the window quietly drifted in, overpowering the hints of mint and grass, like a gentle blanket covering this chaotic night.
Before the morning mist had even dissipated, the bluestone slabs of Shuyu Courtyard were already soaked with moisture.
Su Zhelan woke up before dawn. As soon as the birds chirped outside the window, he had already changed into his simplest gray cloth shirt and neatly tied his long hair into a ponytail.
As he passed under the porch, he heard the familiar sound of horses' hooves coming from the front yard. The soft rustling of his black cloak against the stone steps was like a needle, making him pause. It was Sheng Xuan, surely coming to deliver breakfast again. Su Zhelan almost immediately ducked behind the artificial hill, his fingertips gripping the hem of his sleeve. Only when the footsteps faded into the distance did he breathe a sigh of relief and walk along the wall towards the pharmacy.
He dared not go through the main entrance again, for fear of running into either Sheng Xuan or Xiao Qiyun.
Yesterday's chaos felt like a nightmare he hadn't woken up from. The numbness on his lips, the red marks on his waist, and Xiao Qiyun's words, "There's plenty of time in the future," kept haunting him, making his temples throb.
Run, you must run far away, at least far away from those scorching gazes.
The pharmacy door was ajar, and the aroma of medicine mixed with the stench of blood wafted out, three times stronger than usual.
Su Zhelan had just pushed open the door when she was stunned by the sight inside—
Seven or eight wounded men lay on the wooden planks against the wall: a soldier with a broken leg, a centurion grazed by an arrow, and on the innermost bamboo couch, a captain groaned, clutching his bleeding abdomen. Su Yan was stitching up his wound, and the blood in the copper basin had spilled onto the floor. Gu Linzhao squatted on the ground grinding medicine, the pestle striking the mortar with a thud, sweat dripping down his chin.
"You're here?" Su Yan didn't even look up, his hand holding the silver needle as steady as a rock. "Go and treat the arrow wound over there. The soldier's arrowhead had a barb, so we need to widen the wound first."
His tone was so natural that it seemed Su Zhelan was meant to be there, only his slightly raised eyebrows revealed a hint of surprise—this kid was listless last night, but this morning he seemed like a different person, even though there were bloodshot veins in his eyes.
Su Zhelan did not respond and walked straight to the low couch on the outermost side.
The soldier groaned, clutching his left arm. The arrow shaft had been severed, but the barb was deeply embedded in his flesh, the surrounding skin bluish-purple from infection. He opened his medicine chest with fluid movements: first, he poured strong liquor onto the tweezers, a flame leaping up half an inch, making the tweezers gleam; then he drew a thin-bladed knife, the blade flashing in the morning light, and precisely pressed it against the edge of the barb.
"Bear with it." Su Zhelan's voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable calmness.
With fingertips pressing down on the soldier's upper arm muscles, and taking advantage of the moment the soldier inhales, the knife and tweezers work together—the knife's curve as it cuts through the flesh just avoids the main tendon, and the tweezers precisely bite the base of the barb. With a soft "hiss," the bloody arrowhead is completely pulled out.
The soldier shuddered in pain and was about to cry out when Su Zhelan quickly applied hemostatic powder and tightly wrapped the wound with boiled linen, applying even pressure as if she had measured it.
The whole process took no more than three breaths, so fast that no one could react in time.
"What superb technique!" a wounded soldier nearby couldn't help but exclaim.
Su Zhelan didn't look up, but turned to the next wounded man—a cook whose ankle had been crushed by a horse's hoof. The bones were severely dislocated, and his ankle was swollen like a steamed bun.
He crouched down, gently pressed his fingertips on the swollen area, and moved his fingertips along the skin, quickly locating the dislocated joint.
"Relax," he whispered.
Taking advantage of the cook's momentary lapse in attention, he suddenly twisted and pushed with both hands, and with a soft "click," the dislocated bone was put back in place.
Just as the cook was about to cry out in pain, Su Zhelan pressed down on his knee: "Don't move, the pain will go away once the herbal medicine is applied."
His movements were swift and decisive, displaying the resoluteness he had developed while traveling the world as a wandering doctor, making him a completely different person from the fragile figure he had been in the Shuyu Academy.
After Su Yan finished administering the acupuncture, he turned around and witnessed this scene, causing his brows to furrow even more.
He walked behind Su Zhelan and watched as he mixed the crushed herb with yellow wine into a paste and applied it evenly to the cook's ankle. The angle of the bamboo strip was fixed perfectly—this technique was clearly the unique method he had taught him years ago, and even the concentration of the yellow wine in the medicine was just right.
"You brat..." Su Yan was about to speak when he saw that Su Zhelan had finished treating his ankle and then picked up a needle and thread to start stitching up a knife wound.
His fingertips pinched the end of the needle, and the stitches were extremely dense. Each stitch passed precisely through the edge of the skin and flesh, and the wound gradually closed up under his hands, like a piece of cloth being carefully sewn together.
"Hmph, did the sun rise in the west?" Su Yan finally finished sewing the last stitch, tied a tight knot, and threw the blood-stained needle and thread into the brazier, sparks crackling as they flew up.
"You're unusually diligent today. Have you grown tired of staying at the Shuyu Courtyard?"
As he turned, he tapped the pestle on the table, his gaze falling on Su Zhelan's reddened earlobes, his brows furrowing even more: "Did those two boys bully you again? Sheng Xuan is reckless, and Xiao Qiyun is cunning. If you've been wronged..."
"No." Su Zhelan suddenly looked up, avoiding Su Yan's probing gaze, picked up the strong liquor and poured it onto a cloth. The pungent smell of the alcohol made him cough twice. "It's just... Master is too busy here, so I'm just sitting here doing nothing."
"Hmph, at least you still have some conscience." Su Yan retorted, but then turned around and pulled out a wooden box labeled "Secret" from the top shelf of the medicine cabinet, tossing it to Su Zhelan.
"Inside is a tissue-regenerating ointment. Apply it to the one on the innermost side where the intestines are ruptured. Your technique is gentler than mine; he can't tolerate pain."
This was already tacit approval. When Su Zhelan caught the wooden box, his fingertips touched the familiar engraving on the bottom of the box—it was the character "稳" (steady) that Su Yan had made him carve a hundred times as punishment when he was learning to sew and always sewed the thread crookedly.
He opened the box; the ointment gleamed with a pearly luster. It was Su Yan's most treasured possession, something he never used lightly.
When treating intestinal injuries, Su Zhelan's movements were even more skillful. He first rinsed the wound with strong liquor, exposing the everted intestines, his eyes showing no hesitation; then he took mulberry bark paper soaked in medicinal juice and carefully put the intestines back in place, his movements very gentle; finally, he sutured them in layers, using thick thread for the muscle layer and fine hemp thread for the mucosa layer, the layers clearly defined like a textbook.
Gu Linzhao stopped grinding the medicine, looked at Su Zhelan's focused profile, and suddenly whispered to Su Yan, "His skill is much better than that of the imperial physicians in the Imperial Hospital."
Su Yan didn't speak, but just looked at the sweat seeping from Su Zhelan's forehead—it was sweat from exertion, not tension.
This kid must have witnessed a lot of life and death during his years as a traveling healer, otherwise he wouldn't have developed such composure in the face of danger. But... his energy this morning came too suddenly, as if he was sulking, or as if he was hiding from something.
When the sun climbed to the center of the window frame, the groans in the pharmacy subsided considerably.
Su Zhelan had treated six wounded soldiers. She had used up most of the hemostatic powder in her medicine box. Her fingertips were wrinkled from being soaked in the medicine, but she remained steady without trembling.
Just as he was about to get a new bandage, he heard the familiar sound of horses' hooves coming from outside the courtyard, and the sound of a cloak sweeping across the stone steps growing louder as he approached.
Su Zhelan's movements suddenly stopped, and her back tensed instantly.
It is a sweltering heat.
He almost instinctively turned around, trying to hide behind the medicine cabinet, but Su Yan grabbed his shoulder.
"What's the panic?" Su Yan's voice was low, with a hint of knowing understanding. "Finish this before you leave. You can't just abandon the job halfway through."
Su Zhelan gripped the bandage tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white. In the bronze mirror of the medicine cabinet, his reddened ear tips were reflected, as well as the dark figure outside the window that was getting closer and closer.
There was no escaping it. He took a deep breath and forced himself to lower his head and continue bandaging, but his fingertips trembled uncontrollably—it turned out that even the most skilled medical technique couldn't hide the panic and embarrassment in his heart.
Outside the courtyard gate, Sheng Xuan reined in his horse and looked into the open door of the pharmacy. Su Zhelan was bending down to bandage a wounded soldier, her profile looking particularly focused in the morning light.
Su Zhelan tied a tight knot in the bandage with his fingertips, his movements so fast they were almost stiff. He could feel that burning gaze on his back, like iron baked by the sun, making the back of his neck tense.
"All done." He whispered some instructions to the injured man, then deliberately avoided the doorway as he got up. He picked up the empty medicine box and went around to the back of the medicine cabinet—there was a small side door leading to the backyard, which was his escape route that he had already planned.
"etc."
Sheng Xuan's voice rang out at the door, tinged with a deliberate attempt to probe. He was still carrying the packet of medicine, his black cloak damp with morning dew, clearly indicating he had just come from the training grounds; the clanging of armor plates was particularly clear in the quiet of the pharmacy. "Ze Lan, did you...sleep well last night?"
Su Zhelan stopped abruptly, her medicine box hitting the stone wall with a soft thud.
He didn't turn around, only gave a vague "hmm", his fingertips gripping the strap of the suitcase—why did he have to ask that?
“You don’t look too good,” Sheng Xuan took two more steps forward, her gaze falling on his reddened ears, her Adam’s apple bobbing. “Is the pharmacy too stuffy? Or… should I help you move your medicine box to the corridor?”
Before he could finish speaking, Su Zhelan suddenly turned around and practically shoved him aside as she walked out. "No need."
His voice was urgent and hoarse, and his eyes darted around. "I'm going to the backyard to get the medicine. My master needs it."
But as soon as he stepped over the threshold, his wrist was firmly gripped. Sheng Xuan's palm, rough from holding reins, was not strong, but it felt like an iron clamp, preventing him from breaking free.
"Ze Lan," the young general said, his voice tinged with grievance, "I just want to ask you one question, so please don't avoid me."
Su Zhelan's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to shatter her ribs. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Su Yan standing there with his arms crossed, his eyes clearly saying "watching the show."
His eyes reddened with anxiety, and he quickly gave Su Yan a wink—his brows furrowed slightly and the corners of his mouth turned down, a common signal for help between master and disciple.
Su Yan snorted and finally spoke, slamming the pestle heavily into the mortar, sparks flying: "Sheng Xuan! What are you doing standing here? Can't you see the wounded all over the ground waiting for medicine?"
He pointed to the bamboo bed at the far end, his tone so fierce it sounded like he was about to curse, "That captain just had his intestines stitched up, go move him to the inner room, and be careful! If you tear the wound open, I'll have your brother skin you alive!"
Sheng Xuan was stunned by the scolding and loosened his grip on Su Zhelan's wrist.
He glanced at Su Zhelan's reddened eyes, then at Su Yan's fierce face, and finally gave up. As he released her hand, his fingertips brushed against Su Zhelan's palm, leaving a slight warmth: "Then... I'll go move the person first."
Su Zhelan recoiled as if burned, and rushed into the backyard without looking back, her steps as fast as if she were being chased by a wolf. Only after she had rounded the rockery and could no longer hear any noise from the front yard did she lean against the wall, panting, her palms damp with sweat that soaked the medicine box strap.
Inside the pharmacy, Sheng Xuan was carefully moving a seat for the captain, her movements clumsy but exceptionally gentle.
Su Yan watched his retreating figure, then glanced at the direction of the backyard, and suddenly chuckled to Gu Linzhao: "These two lads, one chasing fast, the other dodging fast, are like two fighting crickets."
Gu Linzhao paused in his grinding of the medicine, his gaze falling on Sheng Xuan's clumsy yet earnest profile, a gentle smile appearing in his eyes: "At least, it's better than the tense atmosphere of the past few days."
The morning mist in the backyard hadn't yet dissipated. Su Zhelan leaned against the old locust tree, looking at the half-empty bottle of menthol ointment peeking out of the medicine box—it was the one Xiao Qiyun had left in his room yesterday. Suddenly, he grabbed the ointment and smashed it on the stone table. The crisp sound of shattering glass startled the birds in the branches.
Although it is said that you can hide for a while, but you can't hide forever.
He stared in the direction of the pharmacy, his fingertips digging deep into his palms—but now, all he could do was hide.
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