Wen Zhuo hurriedly gave up the bed: “Quickly, go warm yourself in the bed.”
Fu Ying nodded, undid her fur cloak, and burrowed into the still-warm quilt, hugging her own body tightly.
Even wrapped in the warm quilt, she still felt a bone-deep cold all through her body, as though she were not lying in bed at all but out in the ice and snow.
Hearing her shivering, her breath ragged and disordered, Wen Zhuo’s brows knitted slightly, and he reached out to feel her forehead.
Her skin was abnormally cold, hardly like the body temperature of a living person.
Wen Zhuo froze, sucking in a breath of disbelief.
He recalled a book he had read as a child, the Records of Curiosities.
The book recorded a strange plant from the Western Regions called Cold Sha, whose pollen could throw the meridians that regulate a person’s body temperature into disorder, and stimulate the body to generate a great chill, causing its temperature to plummet rapidly.
If nothing were done, the poisoned person would freeze to death as their body temperature kept falling.
Fu Ying’s head spun, and feeling the warmth from his forehead, her will to survive made her tremble as she clung to that one and only source of heat.
Feeling her fingers lightly scratching at the back of his hand, Wen Zhuo’s heart jolted, and he turned his hand to grip her cold one in return.
Her strength was draining away at an alarming speed.
Fu Ying gasped with difficulty, her chattering teeth clicking from the tremors, her words broken and slow: “Young master, I… why am I still cold… my head hurts so much too…”
“Miss, you must have been poisoned with a cold-based venom. This kind of poison will keep lowering your body temperature, until your blood freezes solid.”
Hearing this, Fu Ying’s head buzzed, the world spinning around her, her consciousness growing hazy, her rising and falling breath growing faint.
So she had been poisoned, no wonder it felt so unbearable……
A person’s body temperature could not drop too low, or the body’s various functions would begin to fail, until the organs collapsed and life came to its end.
Tonight’s sudden disaster had come without warning, and facing the death now approaching, her world was abruptly enveloped in endless despair and helplessness.
Her mother was gone. Her father was gone.
Tonight, it seemed, would become her own death anniversary……
Wen Zhuo knew nothing of medicine, and had no antidote at hand. Seeing her stop moving, he clenched his back teeth and withdrew his hand.
He had thought of a method that might save her life.
Only……
He had no full confidence he could save her, and if he made even one misstep, his own life might well be buried here alongside hers.
Time slipped by without pause.
The room was swallowed in thick darkness and silence, with only the ghostly howl of the north wind outside.
Steeling himself, Wen Zhuo untied the sash at the side of his inner garment, pulled it open, and stripped off all the clothing on his upper body.
“To keep your body temperature from dropping any further, I fear this may be improper of me, but there is no time to worry about that now.”
He lifted the quilt, lay down beside Fu Ying, and wrapped his arms around her cold, delicate body.
Through a layer of clothing, the effect would not be as good, only through direct skin contact, passing warmth to her, would she have any chance of survival.
Fu Ying felt a wave of warmth wash over her, but what remained of her reason made her lips move in refusal: “No… the cold will hurt you too…”
“It’s fine, I’m strong and healthy, nothing will happen to me.”
Wen Zhuo’s powerful arms clamped around her body, as though he meant to melt her into his very bones and blood, taking on half of the cold on her behalf.
Fu Ying seemed to still want to say something, “Young master…”
The cold inside her body seemed to seep from the very marrow of her bones, making it hard for her to breathe, and the breath she exhaled seemed to carry a frozen mist with it.
She stared blankly ahead into the dimness, her consciousness growing murky, struggling faintly within Wen Zhuo’s arms.
Wen Zhuo, mistakenly thinking he had hurt her, loosened the strength of his arms a little.
But Fu Ying instead grabbed at her own collar, pulling it open to both sides, as though trying to strip off what little clothing remained on her.
Sensing this abnormal behavior, Wen Zhuo hurriedly stopped her flailing hands and held her tightly again, a fierce unease making his heart slam rapidly against his chest.
Years ago, he had led the Great Yong army on a campaign against the Sumo Mohe.
It had happened to be deep winter, the temperature in the north plunging suddenly, and the desolate wilderness had no shortage of soldiers and enemies frozen to death. He had seen with his own eyes how some, right before dying, would strangely strip off all their clothes, lying bare in the ice and snow, rigid and blue-purple like ghosts or clay figures.
“Mm—”
Wen Zhuo’s strength was immense, one hand alone was enough to keep Fu Ying from moving.
Her mind was in chaos, and she clawed desperately, her nails accidentally tearing the skin on his chest.
“Am I… going to die?”
The chill echoed through her entire body, despair spreading through the very bottom of her heart, and two lines of clear tears slid from Fu Ying’s vacant eyes, dripping onto Wen Zhuo’s hand.
“You won’t.”
Wen Zhuo hesitated no longer. His broad palm cupped the back of Fu Ying’s head, pressing her face tightly against his chest, and he commanded resolutely: “Listen to me!”
“You will live, and live for your father’s share of life too.”
“You will cure your skin ailment, and in the bloom of your youth, enjoy a life of your own making, full of joy.”
“You will live to a hundred years and die peacefully in old age, this will absolutely not be your ending today.”
Wen Zhuo’s voice was hoarse but weighty, each word striking against what remained of her fading consciousness.
Fu Ying’s consciousness teetered on the edge of collapse, yet she still struggled fiercely to carve Wen Zhuo’s words into her mind.
Yes, she could not die, with her mother and father both gone, there was no one else left in her family.
The mastermind behind her father’s murder was still unknown, her ancestral legacy still in another’s hands, she still had so much left to do……
Seeing the person in his arms stop moving, Wen Zhuo, thinking she had lost consciousness, gritted his teeth and scolded her urgently: “Miss, you will not die, do you hear me?”
She nodded faintly, and then made no further movement at all.
The cold radiating from Fu Ying’s body pierced through Wen Zhuo’s skin, stabbing straight into his flesh, making him furrow his brow, his muscles tensing all over, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
He had never expected her body to have grown this cold.
He shut his eyes tightly, using every bit of willpower he had to endure the knife-like pain shooting through every limb and joint.
Last night, he had already owed her his life, and now, because he had stayed here to recover, he had drawn assassins to her again, putting her life in danger like this.
If she died, how could he ever repay a debt of gratitude weighing more than the heavens themselves?
“I want to wake up with you tomorrow……”
Wen Zhuo held the slender body in his arms tighter, murmuring painfully into her ear: “If it is fate’s will that this cannot be… then tonight, let us both sleep here forever, never to wake.”
Then he shut his eyes tightly, no longer resisting the all-pervading cold, letting his body and mind relax completely, accepting without reservation the chill radiating from her.
By morning, the snow had stopped, and the warm sun drove away what little cold remained from the night before.
A few threads of faint morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains, falling on the thick, mounded quilt on the bed.
Fu Ying felt an itch on her face, as though she were beside a warm stove, its flames leaping and dancing, her whole body wrapped in warmth.
Where her cheek pressed against something, a steady, powerful heartbeat sounded, bringing with it a comforting sense of safety.
Her body had been in such misery the night before, how had it become so comfortable now? Was this… a dream?
She raised her heavy eyelids, and a chest with beautifully defined muscle lines came into view, its clearly visible abdominal muscles rising and falling slightly with each breath, the lines extending downward, disappearing into the loosely tied waist of black trousers.
Her entire body was held in the embrace of Wen Zhuo’s long arms, the two of them so close together there was barely any distance left between them but their breathing.
Wen Zhuo had fallen asleep later than Fu Ying, and had not yet woken.
His sleeping face had shed all its usual sharpness, his eyes lightly closed, his brow relaxed, his lashes casting faint shadows on his face, as though he had forgotten all his worries and troubles.
Fu Ying, recalling the series of events from the night before, suddenly realized that all of it had truly happened, it had not been a dream.
Wen Zhuo had held her tightly all night, sleeping in her embrace, and with his own flesh and blood had forcibly pulled her back from the gates of death.
Their heartfelt exchange from the night before echoed in her mind.
Just as Wen Zhuo had said, she had not died, and had woken safely into this beautiful morning.
Fu Ying lifted her eyes slightly, gazing at the man still sleeping beside her.
At this moment, he was more handsome than at any waking moment, striking straight to the heart.
An unprecedented flutter, mixed with the relief of having survived a brush with death, made her eyes moisten without her meaning to, her amber eyes taking on scattered points of blazing light.
His arrival had been like a firework bursting open, instantly lighting up her world that had been shrouded in darkness.
A flush of color rose to her cheeks as she gazed unabashedly at his face, not even noticing that the corners of her own lips were slowly curling upward.
……
Not good!
Before she could sink into this joy for even a moment, Fu Ying’s quickened breath suddenly caught.
Her face was uncovered right now, if he opened his eyes and saw her true appearance, the consequences would be unthinkable.
A wave of overwhelming panic dispelled the tender thoughts of a moment before, and she twisted her body slightly, inching herself little by little out of the crook of his arm, feeling various degrees of soreness spreading through her limbs.
“Mm—”
She let out a soft gasp, her whole face scrunching up, crawling a bit, then resting a bit, carefully making her way down off the foot of the bed.
Before leaving, she did not forget to tuck the quilt snugly around Wen Zhuo, so he would not catch a chill with his upper body bare.
In the side room.
After washing her face with warm water, Fu Ying let Bi Luo help her with her hair and makeup.
Watching the strikingly beautiful face in the bronze mirror, Bi Luo ran a sandalwood comb through her thick, jet-black hair, and asked with concern, “Young lady, your complexion seems a bit off today, did you not sleep well?”
“I caught a chill last night. It’ll be fine once I warm up a bit.”
Having been struck by the cold poison in the middle of the night, Fu Ying, though awake this morning, still had not fully steadied her nerves.
Fortunately, her medical skill was excellent, and she had carefully checked her own pulse.
Fortunately, she had not breathed in much of the powder, and the cold poison had not been active for long. With Wen Zhuo’s help, her body had almost entirely worked through it, leaving only some soreness, a single dose of medicinal soup would take care of it.
Bi Luo sighed: “Young lady, keeping that person in the house, you must be mindful of your own safety too. With an assassin appearing last night, Chen Shi has already sent someone rushing to the traveling palace overnight to report it, and even stricter guards have been posted at the gate.”
“Let them do as they please.”
Fu Ying said flatly. If she went and raised any objection, her intentions would be far too obvious, better to go along with Chen Shi’s arrangement for now, and quietly move Wen Zhuo out of the house later.
“Put a step-shake hairpin in for me today.”
Fu Ying had not worn any jewelry since Fu Zhaoxing’s death. Having just come through a night that threatened her very life, her heart was filled with joy she could not suppress, and surely her father, watching from heaven, would be glad for her too.
Besides, she had a small private thought hidden in her heart as well.
Wen Zhuo had been willing to risk his life, willing to live or die alongside her, she wanted to face him looking her best.
Bi Luo gathered Fu Ying’s long hair up at the back of her head and secured it with a pearl-and-kingfisher-feather step-shake hairpin.
Once her hair and makeup were done, Fu Ying had Bi Luo call for Jiang Yue. She had never quite been able to set her mind at ease about what had happened the night before, and wanted to ask him for the full story.
A moment later, Jiang Yue came into the room, knelt on one knee, placed one hand over his chest, and bowed his head in salute: “Young lady.”
“Rise.”
Fu Ying raised her hand, gesturing for him to come closer. “I want to ask you, last night, when that assassin fled and you subdued him, you and Chen Shi seemed to be on the verge of a clash. Was there some friction between you two?”
The look of murderous intent in Chen Shi’s eyes, the way he had drawn his blade, still lingered in her mind, impossible to shake off.
Jiang Yue’s gaze paused for a moment, and he stepped forward. Seeing that Fu Ying was sitting on a wooden stool, lower than himself, he knelt again on one knee before her, tilting his head up slightly to look at her.
“Young lady, before he died, that assassin let something slip, he said we were conspiring with Great Yong.”