Chapter 21

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Yan Nanjing raised his lantern and moved forward, but the other man sidestepped just in time to dodge it.

At that moment, Yang Zhijian stumbled out, still reeling from the lingering effects of the alcohol. Though he had vomited almost all of it up, his steps were unsteady.

"Zhishan!"

Yang Zhijian staggered, caught his foot on the threshold, and was steadied by Cui Ti beside him.

"Zhishan, are you alright?" Yang Zhijian, ignoring his own state, hurried over to ask Yan Nanjing.

Yan Nanjing shook his head, "I’m fine."

She looked toward Qi Yun, about to ask more, when suddenly there was a clang as a knife fell to the ground. Qi Yun clutched his left arm, silent.

Yan Nanjing caught him, her palm touching his robe sleeve, which was soaked and warm. Instinctively, she glanced under the lantern light—both hands stained deep crimson.

Even Yang Zhijian’s face turned pale upon seeing this.

The night was thick and dark, making it hard to see clearly, but for a warrior to lose his weapon, the injury must be serious.

Yang Zhijian called Bai Su over, urging him to help support Qi Yun inside. He wanted to follow but his legs wouldn’t cooperate, nearly causing him to fall again.

"Brother, I’ll go check on him first."

Besides Yang Zhijian, Yan Nanjing was the only one with some medical knowledge. Yang Zhijian raised his hand to refuse, but as he took a step forward, he nearly stumbled again.

"I’ll go instead. If I can’t handle it, then Brother can come."

With that, she glanced at Cui Ti, who was supporting Yang Zhijian, "Please take care of him, Mr. Cui."

Lifting the robe’s hem, she entered Qi Yun’s chamber.

Qi Yun sat on the couch, the room thick with the metallic scent of blood—unclear if it came from outside or from his wound.

After Bai Su helped him in, he went out to deal with the bodies of the assailants. The room grew silent, just the two of them.

He sat there, one arm dripping blood, lifting his eyes toward her in the dim light.

A person with bloodied hands, when their gaze falls upon someone, is like a lurking beast’s stare, causing the skin to prickle.

"Is it just you alone, Miss?"

The young voice carried a hint of surprise.

She nodded, "Manpower is scarce everywhere. In the mansion, only my brother and I have any medical skills."

The distance from Yang Zhijian’s place was not far—any slightest noise and he would hear immediately.

Yan Nanjing felt no embarrassment or unease facing a young man alone. She brought the nearby fire lantern over, placed it before him, and reached out to peel back his robe.

"I’ll manage myself," Qi Yun raised a hand to fend her off, his pale face showing a trace of avoidance.

Yan Nanjing frowned, her voice lowering, "Your sleeve is soaked with blood. If you don’t remove it now, once the blood dries, it will stick to the wound and be harder to peel off."

"I’m afraid of offending you, Miss."

He sat upright, a barely audible sigh in his words.

Yan Nanjing’s frown deepened.

Sometimes she truly admired him; even now, he still maintained his composure.

"There’s no one else here now, no need for formalities."

She looked at him quietly, "My brother is nearby, but he probably won’t hear this. Your posture, if you insist on maintaining it, will be wasted effort. If it aggravates your injury, it would be counterproductive. After all, leaving Jingzhou city is exhausting. Rather than fussing over etiquette, it’s better to treat your wound promptly."

Her tone was blunt, unlike her usual gentle demeanor.

"If talking about offense, it’s not that serious. Every summer, you can see many men working shirtless."

Qi Yun, hearing this, gave up resisting and smiled faintly. He undid the clasp with one hand, loosening his robe immediately.

"Miss, you misunderstand," Qi Yun grabbed one side of his robe to pull it down halfway, "I mean, such matters shouldn’t be for a lady to handle."

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"I am not some noble lady, sir. You flatter me," she tugged at the sleeve, letting Qi Yun exert effort. "Nor am I a pampered noblewoman—no such pretensions."

When the movement tugged at the wound, Qi Yun winced, furrowing his brows and groaning softly. Impatiently, he pulled his entire arm out of the sleeve.

She brought scissors to cut off the soaked sleeve.

Qi Yun shook his head, refusing, then ripped the sleeve off in one motion.

His inner robe sleeve clung to the wound; with such force, the clotting blood reopened the injury, fresh blood flowing freely again.

"Are you eager to meet your ancestors, sir?"

She asked straightforwardly.

Chen Yun had taught her that many patients don’t know what they’re doing when ill. At such times, one must assert dominance to continue saving them.

"Your courage commands my respect," Qi Yun said, ignoring the blood flowing from his wound and looking at her.

His smile remained, but his eyes were cold.

"I do not compare to you, sir."

She paid no mind to his icy gaze, holding the lantern to inspect the wound carefully. Dried blood crusts surrounded the injury, but fresh blood still trickled out.

"I grew up on the battlefield, countless injuries big and small. This wound is nothing compared to past injuries."

She met his eyes with no fear or retreat.

"As a child, I once saw a military commander speak like this to my father."

"That commander was a veteran, scarred from years of war. His current injury was trivial."

She chuckled—an oddly sharp sound. Yan Nanjing looked up, eyes fixed on Qi Yun.

Beneath the lantern’s glow, her beauty held a hazy, gentle charm. Yet the words from her crimson lips were harsh.

"Indeed, as the commander said, though the wound was new, it was less severe than older injuries. My father warned him to rest well, but he persisted in his ways."

"Within two months, the wound worsened, flesh rotted to bone. He wailed in agony on his deathbed for days."

Qi Yun’s smile faded; his brows furrowed, staring intently at her.

This was likely his true nature—beneath the gentle facade lay a commanding force. Even a small wound on someone else carried a weight like a thousand pounds, suffocating.

Yan Nanjing met his gaze unflinchingly.

"A person’s vital essence is finite. Letting it bleed freely is self-destructive."

"I am enlightened," Qi Yun bowed his head.

At that moment, Ayuan brought in hot water—boiled and cooled as per Yan Nanjing’s instructions.

The young man’s upper body was half-bare, his arm’s wound gruesome, yet approaching him was a heat unlike any woman’s.

The warmth from his body surprised her; even without direct contact, she could feel the rising heat from a distance.

"Miss, have you studied medicine with Master Chen?"

Qi Yun watched as she accepted a wrung cloth from Ayuan, also boiled and cooled by her orders.

She casually nodded, "Just a little. Enough to handle minor ailments, but not enough for tendon or bone injuries."

She smiled meaningfully. "So from now on, you must heed my advice. I am not skilled in medicine; if you don’t listen, it could be disastrous."

Qi Yun sat still, letting her work.

Unlike the camp doctors, she was far more meticulous. She applied a medicated plaster to the bleeding wound. Though gentle, the herbs still caused a sharp sting.

Yan Nanjing glanced at him; though pale, his expression remained unchanged, not contorted by the pain.

The plaster could be left on until the wound healed, falling off naturally with the scab—no further treatment necessary.

The bleeding gradually ceased.

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Qi Yun took the cloth Yan Nanjing handed him and wiped the blood around the wound clean.

When the bandage was brought, he bit one end himself and expertly wrapped the wound.

His skillful, casual bandaging confirmed his claim of countless battlefield injuries.

Having finished, he looked up to see her standing there.

Qi Yun wore a half-robe, his injured arm and much of his shoulder fully exposed before her.

Perhaps due to his upbringing or other reasons, his aura was pure and untainted, lacking the usual grime seen on other men.

His body curved with restrained strength in every inch.

Ayuan brought a fresh inner robe, placing it near him.

"You’ve lost much blood. Remember to rest and heal well," Yan Nanjing said, watching him dress his injured arm with one hand.

He showed no spoiled airs; he seemed capable of handling everything himself.

"The medicinal decoction will be brought shortly," she paused, "The wound is deep. Though bleeding has stopped, no one can predict if it will worsen."

Qi Yun nodded lightly, "Thank you, Miss, for your advice."

All necessary instructions had been given, and the treatment completed.

Yan Nanjing nodded and prepared to leave.

After just a few steps, a voice came from behind.

"You said no outsiders are present. Then to you, am I not an outsider as well?"

Yan Nanjing turned; he sat there, awkwardly fiddling with his tie, clearly inconvenienced without assistance.

His words carried endless layers of emotion.

Before she could reply, Qi Yun asked, "Could you send me more of those oranges from last time?"

"Oranges are warming in nature. Since you are healing, it’s best to avoid them for now."

He sighed softly upon hearing this, then looked at her again, "Thank you, Miss."

Yan Nanjing was puzzled—had he developed a taste for those oranges?

She nodded slightly to the man on the couch and led Ayuan out.

Outside, the scene was already being orderly cleaned up.

Cui Ti took the captured survivor for questioning. Yang Zhijian had recovered somewhat; seeing her, he asked, "Zhishan, are you alright?"

Then he inquired, "What about Master Qi?"

Zheng Xuanfu looked over.

"The arm injury is serious," Yan Nanjing considered carefully, "Though bleeding has stopped, whether it worsens remains uncertain."

Zheng Xuanfu frowned deeply. Seeing this, Yang Zhijian comforted him, "My brother and I will look after Master Qi."

By then, Cui Ti had returned. Yang Zhijian sent Cui Ti to escort Zheng Xuanfu to Qi Yun.

When Cui Ti came back, he asked, "Did the interrogation reveal anything?"

Cui Ti, still bearing the scent of fresh blood, replied, "The captive refused to speak. But I asked if their master was from the Governor’s Office. That boy clearly isn’t right."

Yang Zhijian frowned deeply, then looked at Yan Nanjing after a long moment, "This time, they came for me."

"We owe a great debt this time."