Chapter 36
As the stench of blood in the pharmacy was gradually diluted by the fragrance of herbs, Su Zhelan was squatting on the ground, counting the medicinal herbs. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting dappled patterns of light on the licorice root between his fingers, each root neatly arranged, as if untangling the tangled mess in his mind.
Su Yan had just seen off the last wounded soldier when he placed the pestle into the mortar with a dull thud. "Take a break," he said, kicking over a low stool. "We've been busy since dawn; even the strongest person couldn't keep going like this."
Su Zhelan didn't sit down. When he looked up, his gaze went past Su Yan's shoulder and landed on the old locust tree outside the courtyard—Sheng Xuan's black cloak was nowhere to be seen, presumably sent by Su Yan to do other work. He took a deep breath, stuffed the last handful of angelica into the medicine box, and said in a more steady voice than when he was treating his wounds: "Master, I want to go to the front line."
Su Yan's hand, which was pouring water into the copper basin, suddenly stopped. Water splashed onto the bluestone slab, leaving small dark spots. "What did you say?" He turned around, his brows furrowed so tightly they could trap a mosquito. "The front lines? That place is a hail of bullets and arrows. What are you going to do there and cause trouble?"
“I’m not going to cause trouble.” Su Zhelan stood up, her gray blouse gleaming faded in the sunlight. “I heard from wounded soldiers a few days ago that the right flank was short of doctors, and many people had arrow wounds that were festering and no one was treating them. If I go, at least I can spare them some suffering.”
His fingertips unconsciously traced the engravings on the edge of the medicine box, where the dents from when he was carried into the general's mansion last year still remained. "Last year I was seriously injured and unconscious, and you saved my life. The general's mansion gave me a place to stay."
At this point, his voice lowered, carrying a barely perceptible hint of bitterness: "Now that I'm almost fully recovered, I can't just stay in the rear enjoying myself forever. The soldiers on the front lines are the ones who really need people. Only when I go there can I truly do something worthwhile."
Su Yan stared at him for a long time, her gaze sliding from his reddened ear tips to his hands gripping the medicine box tightly—those hands, which had been trembling that morning, avoiding Sheng Xuan's gaze, were now as steady as a waterlogged stone.
He suddenly chuckled and slammed the pestle on the table: "Easier said than done. I bet you're just trying to avoid those two brats, aren't you?"
Su Zhelan's back stiffened abruptly, like a child whose secret had been exposed. She hurriedly lowered her head, her fingertips digging into the texture of the suitcase strap: "No... I just feel like I should go."
"Of course it is." Su Yan walked up to him, looking down at him with a slightly softer tone.
"You two boys are suffocating you, so you're thinking of running into a hail of bullets?" He paused, then suddenly reached out and poked Su Zhelan's forehead hard with his fingertips.
"You're stationed at the pharmacy? The blood there flows up to your ankles. If an arrow comes flying at you, with your skinny arms and legs, you won't even be able to dodge it!"
Su Zhelan shrank back slightly from the provocation, but didn't back away. She simply raised her head, her eyes filled with a resolute determination that seemed to have been tempered by fire: "I'm not afraid. During those years as a traveling doctor, I dodged the knives of bandits and the teeth of wild beasts. No matter how fierce the hail of bullets was, it was always better than... always better than what I'm going through now."
The last few words were spoken very softly, yet they were like needles, pricking Su Yan's brows and making him furrow his brows even more tightly.
He knew perfectly well what "now" meant—Sheng Xuan's bluntness, Xiao Qiyun's stubbornness, and Su Zhelan's own barely audible wavering were suffocating the child.
The pharmacy fell silent, with only the occasional spark from the silver charcoal in the medicine stove.
Looking at the almost stubborn seriousness in Su Zhelan's eyes, Su Yan suddenly recalled that cold, rainy night last year when this boy was curled up on a stretcher, the scar on the back of his neck still bleeding, yet he bit his lip tightly and refused to utter a sound. The tenacity in his bones hadn't changed since then.
"Hmph, fine, you can go if you want." Su Yan finally relented, turned around and dragged a heavy wooden box from the bottom of the medicine cabinet. "Inside are the knife wound medicine, hemostatic powder, and your usual silver needles. Take them with you."
He lifted the lid of the box, inside which were dozens of porcelain bottles neatly stacked. The words on the labels were all handwritten by him: “When you get to the front line, listen to Sheng Chi’s arrangements and don’t be reckless.”
Su Zhelan's eyes lit up, like torches being lit. He reached out to take the wooden box, but Su Yan pressed his wrist down. "And,"
His voice deepened, and his gaze fell on the light white scar on the back of his neck. "The poison on the back of your neck hasn't been completely cleared yet. If it flares up on the front lines, come back immediately, do you hear me?"
"Yes!" Su Zhelan nodded vigorously. The moment her fingertips touched the wooden box, the panic she felt from trying to escape was replaced by a strange sense of peace.
Going to the front lines would allow him to avoid Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun, and also allow him to do what he's good at. Perhaps... this is where he should be.
When packing his medicine box, he deliberately avoided the candied plums that Sheng Xuan had given him, and he didn't touch the peppermint balm that Xiao Qiyun had left behind. He only packed some commonly used herbs and strong liquor.
As the sunlight climbed onto the lid of the box, he was already standing at the gate of the courtyard, carrying the heavy wooden box on his back. His gray figure looked particularly thin in the morning light, yet it exuded an indomitable spirit.
"Master, I'm going back to pack my things."
Su Yan didn't turn around, he just waved his hand, the sound of grinding medicine with a pestle carrying a barely perceptible muffled tone.
Inside the pharmacy, Su Yan gazed in the direction where he had disappeared and suddenly whispered to Gu Linzhao, who had just walked in, "Send someone to keep a close eye on him, don't let that kid really drive himself to his death."
Gu Linzhao paused in his grinding of the medicine, a gentle smile appearing in his eyes: "Don't worry, Sheng Chi is on the front lines, he'll be well taken care of. I'll also send people to keep an eye on him. Don't worry about it, you yourself have been busy all day without eating."
As dusk settled over Shuyu Courtyard, it turned a pale ink color. The lanterns under the eaves had just been lit, and their dim yellow light seeped in through the gaps in the bamboo curtains, casting dappled patterns of light on the bluestone slabs.
The entire courtyard was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing. He stood in the center of the courtyard with his medicine box on his back, looking at the house where he had lived for more than half a year. Suddenly, he felt a sense of unfamiliarity—the moon-white window curtains, the brocade quilt on the couch, the few well-worn books on the table, everywhere bore the marks of this place, yet it could not accommodate him at this moment.
He pushed open the door, and paused instinctively as his fingertips touched the cold door knocker. The wind swept past the window, as if mocking his pathetic escape.
The packing was quick, yet carried an almost deliberate decisiveness.
He folded his changes of clothes into neat stacks, sorted his frequently used silver needles and medicine bottles into wooden boxes, and carefully wrapped all his books in cloth.
Only when she saw the red ribbon under the pillow did her fingertips pause—it was the one Shengxuan had tied crookedly last time, which had somehow fallen into the gap, its vermilion color resembling a drop of undried blood in the dim light.
Su Zhelan closed her eyes briefly, then haphazardly crumpled the red ribbon into a ball and stuffed it into the medicine box.
As night fell completely, Su Zhelan finally finished packing her luggage and prepared to go to the pharmacy to inform her master and see if Su Yan had anything else to say.
As he carried the wooden box to the courtyard gate, just as he was about to bolt the door, he bumped into Sheng Xuan standing under the eaves, his black cloak damp with night dew, as if he had been waiting for a long time.
"You're leaving?" Sheng Xuan's voice trembled slightly. "Mr. Su Yan said you're going to the front lines? Is it... is it because I was too impulsive, and you're angry?"
Su Zhelan paused, looking at his reddened eyes, and suddenly felt her throat tighten: "It has nothing to do with you." He put the wooden box on the ground and softened his voice, "The front line is short of doctors, I can help if I go."
"Help? I know that! People can die there!" Sheng Xuan suddenly grabbed his arm with surprising force.
"If you want to go somewhere else, I'll take you! We can go to the hunting grounds to see the peach blossoms, or to West Street to listen to the Hu women playing the zither. We can go anywhere, just not to the front lines!"
His voice was pleading, like a child afraid of being abandoned, "You can stay in Shuyu Courtyard as long as you want, I'll move out if you want, just please don't leave."
Seeing his flustered state, Su Zhelan's resolve, born from her desire to escape, suddenly wavered.
He recalled the impulsive kiss under the peach blossoms, the clumsy confession by the stream, and countless moments when Sheng Xuan cared for him in his awkward ways; his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
“Shengxuan,” he gently pulled his hand away, his fingertips brushing against the other’s rough palm, “I’m not going to run away.”
He pointed to the wooden crate on the ground. "I'm just doing what I have to do. I'll be back after the war."
"Really?" Sheng Xuan's eyes lit up, like torches being lit.
Su Zhelan nodded, bent down and picked up the wooden box: "Shuyuyuan... Thank you for lending it to me. Now it's returned to its rightful owner."
Sheng Xuan's gaze fell on Su Zhelan's hand carrying the wooden box, and suddenly, as if remembering something, he grabbed Su Zhelan's wrist.
Su Zhelan stumbled from the sudden force and was about to speak when she saw Sheng Xuan pull something from his neck—a polished wolf tooth with a cold gleam at the tip, tied with a worn-white red cord, clearly having been worn close to his body for a long time.
"Here, take this." Sheng Xuan's voice tightened as he shoved the wolf tooth into Su Zhelan's hand, his fingertips turning white from the force. "My mother gave it to me; she said it can ward off evil spirits. Take it with you to the front lines; it will protect you."
The sharp edges of the wolf's fangs pressed against his palm, carrying the warmth of Sheng Xuan's neck, making Su Zhelan's fingertips tremble. "No need," he tried to push it back, "I have a medicine pouch on me, that's enough."
"How could a medicine pouch have such power!" Sheng Xuan gripped his wrist tightly, refusing to let go. The red rope wrapped around Su Zhelan's fingertips like an unbreakable knot. "I've worn this wolf fang for five years and have never been defeated! You must take it!"
He practically shoved it into Su Zhelan's hand, then pressed his palm against his knuckles, forcing him to clench it tightly. "Give it back to me when you come back."
The last few words were spoken very softly, carrying a hint of unspoken expectation. Su Zhelan looked down at the wolf tooth in her palm; the tip of the tooth had been smoothed by being rubbed, and the red rope still carried a faint scent of soapberry—the scent of Sheng Xuan.
He opened his mouth, but in the end he didn't refuse anymore. His fingertips were sore from being pressed, but strangely he became a little more steady.
"……Thanks."
Sheng Xuan didn't say anything, just watched his figure disappear into the moonlight.
He didn't know if Su Zhelan's "coming back" was true. He only knew that by tomorrow morning, the courtyard would be empty, and that figure would no longer be there, frantically hiding from him between the pharmacy and Shuyu Courtyard.
When Su Zhelan carried the wooden box back into the pharmacy, Su Yan was filtering the dregs of medicine with a silver sieve. The medicine dripped into the celadon bowl, making a soft "drip-drip" sound.
"You're here?" Su Yan didn't even look up, pointing to the top shelf of the medicine cabinet. "Take those bottles of 'Golden Wound Secret Ointment' and 'Hemostatic Powder' with you. There are many arrow wounds on the front lines, and these two are very useful. Also, take that jar of 'Muscle Regenerating Jade Red Ointment' on the left. It's most effective for treating suppurating wounds. Be gentle and massage it for a while when you apply it."
Su Zhelan responded and climbed the wooden ladder. When her fingertips touched the cold porcelain bottle, she was still flustered by the argument at Shuyu Courtyard earlier.
Just then, familiar footsteps came from outside the courtyard, carrying an undeniable sense of pressure.
Su Zhelan's back tensed instantly—it was Xiao Qiyun. He almost instinctively wanted to hide in the inner room, but then he heard Xiao Qiyun's voice at the courtyard gate, slightly hoarse: "Is Mr. Su here? I've come to retrieve the book I left at the pharmacy."
Su Zhelan's heart skipped a beat.
He forgot that Xiao Qiyun often came to the pharmacy to discuss medical books with Su Yan.
Sure enough, before he could hide properly, Su Yan's voice rang out, deliberately raised high: "Your book was taken by Su Zhelan a long time ago! That kid said he was going to the front lines, and he's in there packing up medicine bottles right now. Are you looking for him?"
Xiao Qiyun's footsteps suddenly stopped, then he quickened his pace and headed straight for Su Zhelan.
Su Zhelan clenched the bundle in her hand—there was no escaping it.
When the wooden door was pushed open, a gust of wind was stirred up, causing the candlelight to flicker violently.
Xiao Qiyun stood at the door, the hem of his moon-white robe tinged with twilight. The calm in his eyes had long since shattered, leaving only barely concealed panic.
"Is it true? You're going to the front lines?" His voice was soft, but it hit Su Zhelan like a stone. "Why didn't you tell me?"
With her back to him, Su Zhelan stuffed the last bottle of medicine into the bottom of the box, her voice as hard as ice: "It's just doing my duty, there's no need to make a fuss about it."
"It's my duty?" Xiao Qiyun strode forward, grabbed his wrist with such force that he almost crushed the bones. "What kind of place is the front line? Going there is just suicide!"
His eyes were bloodshot, and even his breathing was trembling. "Is it because of last night...? Did I push you too hard?"
The last few words were spoken very softly, carrying a hint of regret that even he dared not admit.
Su Zhelan abruptly shook off his hand, and as she turned around, the candlelight flickered in his eyes: "It has nothing to do with you."
He avoided Xiao Qiyun's probing gaze, his fingertips tracing the lock on the wooden box. "What I owe the General's Mansion, I should repay."
Xiao Qiyun stared at his reddened ear tips and his deliberately straightened back, then suddenly chuckled, his laughter icy: "Owe the General's Mansion? What do you take me for? A decoration to be summoned and dismissed at will?"
He took a step closer. "Or are you just trying to avoid me? Just like you avoided him?"
Su Zhelan's Adam's apple bobbed, but she didn't speak. She simply clicked the lock on the wooden box shut.
Silence can sometimes be more hurtful than an explanation, especially in such tense moments.
Looking at his aloof demeanor, Xiao Qiyun felt a tightness in her chest, as if something was blocking it.
He wanted to say "Don't go," and "I'll go with you," but when he caught a glimpse of the red marks on Su Zhelan's neck and collarbone during the struggle, he swallowed his words—those were the marks he had left last night, now like a slap in the face, leaving him speechless.
Xiao Qiyun didn't speak, but just looked at Su Zhelan, then suddenly chuckled, his laughter tinged with bitterness: "Since you've made up your mind, I won't stop you."
As he turned, the hem of his robe brushed against the candlestick, scattering sparks on the ground. "But... the front lines are bitterly cold, remember to bring plenty of medicine for wounds."
These words were like a soft thorn, gently pricking Su Zhelan's heart. As he watched Xiao Qiyun's figure disappear into the twilight, he suddenly felt that the moonlit white was more unsettling than the dark black of Shengxuan.
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