The medicinal broth was pitch-black, giving off a sharp, pungent aroma.
Time ticked by, minute after minute.
Finally, it was midnight.
The compound was silent, save for the occasional bark of a dog in the distance.
Su Ci helped Lu Si into a thick military coat and draped a wool blanket over his legs, wrapping herself tightly as well, like she was preparing to sneak past a minefield.
“Let’s go, my comrade of the underground,” Su Ci whispered as she pushed the wheelchair.
Lu Si glanced at her with helplessness but stayed silent, cooperating.
Like thieves in the night, they quietly slipped out of the compound, following the dirt road toward Hongxing Commune.
Tonight, there was no moon. The western Zhou region was pitch-dark, only the rustling of leaves in the wind disturbing the oppressive darkness.
Su Ci pushed the wheelchair, each step uneven, her breathing slightly ragged.
“Scared?” Lu Si suddenly asked, his voice deep and low in the night.
“Scared of what? Ghosts?” Su Ci snorted. “I’ve never been afraid of ghosts in my life. Being poor is worse than any ghost. A poor ghost is scarier than a vengeful spirit.”
Lu Si: “…”
Although the mood had been broken, he had to admit that as long as this woman was beside him, the fear of darkness and the unknown seemed to fade.
By the small grove, Old Chen was already waiting.
He held a dim kerosene lamp and squatted on a large rock, looking exactly like a graveyard watchman.
“You’re here?” the old man said without wasting words. “Did you bring it?”
Su Ci handed over the jar of concentrated medicinal extract. “Here. And it’s still hot.”
The old man sniffed it, nodding with satisfaction. “Good. The medicine is potent. Roll up your pant legs.”
Following his instructions, Lu Si rolled up his pants, exposing pale, slightly atrophied lower legs.
In the flickering light of the kerosene lamp, the long, jagged scars crawling like centipedes along his legs looked even more sinister.
The old man showed no sympathy. He pulled a cloth pouch from his chest, unwrapped it, revealing a row of golden needles of varying lengths.
“Kid, bear with it. These ‘bone-penetrating needles’ go into the bone itself. It’ll hurt worse than scraping out poison. If you scream and attract wolves, I’m not responsible.”
Lu Si’s expression remained calm. He gripped the wheelchair handles tightly. “Go ahead.”
The old man picked up a long needle. With a flick of his wrist, the tip glinted coldly—and without hesitation, he plunged it straight into Lu Si’s Yanglingquan point, just below the knee.
“Ugh…”
Lu Si groaned, and the veins on his forehead bulged instantly.
It was a sharp, piercing pain that seemed to drill into the bone itself.
But he clenched his teeth, making no sound.
Su Ci watched, heart clenched.
Instinctively, she reached out, holding Lu Si’s cold hand.
“If it hurts, squeeze me,” she said, placing her hand in his palm.
Lu Si’s hand shot up, gripping her with such force it nearly crushed her bones.
But he quickly loosened slightly, just holding her hand tightly, as if it were the only lifeline he had.
The old man’s needlework was fast and uncanny.
Soon, Lu Si’s legs were covered in shimmering golden needles, looking like spiny hedgehogs.
“How’s it feel?” the old man asked, sweating profusely.
Lu Si panted, cold sweat running down his face. “It hurts… a lot. Like… fire burning inside.”
“That’s good!” The old man’s eyes lit up as he rubbed his hands together excitedly. “The worst is having no sensation. Fire burning means the meridians aren’t dead. There’s hope!”
He pulled out a small bottle, poured some red powder into his palm, warmed it vigorously, and pressed it onto Lu Si’s legs, massaging hard along the meridians.
“Ah—!”
Lu Si finally couldn’t hold back and let out a low shout.
The pain felt as if his flesh were being torn and his tendons shredded.
Su Ci’s eyes went red.
She threw herself over him, cradling his head in her arms.
“Don’t look… don’t look…”
She gently patted his back, soothing him like an injured child.
Lu Si’s body shook violently, burying his face in Su Ci’s soft, warm embrace. Her familiar scent finally allowed his taut nerves to relax just a fraction.
This pain was cruel, but it carried hope.
Because beneath that excruciating torment, he felt a faint, long-lost warmth creeping up from the soles of his feet.
It was… sensation.
“Su Ci…” Lu Si’s voice trembled with disbelief and joy. “My toes… they moved.”
Su Ci’s head shot up, eyes locked on his feet.
Sure enough, the once-stiff toes twitched slightly.
Though minuscule, almost imperceptible, in that moment it was a miracle to both of them.
“It moved! It really moved!” Su Ci nearly jumped in excitement. She cupped Lu Si’s face and planted a fierce kiss on his forehead. “Old Lu! You’re amazing!”
Lu Si froze.
The warm, soft touch on his forehead was like a current shooting straight to his heart.
More intense than the pain in his legs… more intoxicating.
The old man rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Don’t get all lovey-dovey here. This is just the first step—the start of a thousand-mile journey. Go home. Come back in three days.”
He withdrew the needles, packed his tools, and walked away, hands clasped behind his back.
“Remember! Next time, I want braised lion’s head! Exactly eight! Not one less!”
Su Ci wiped her tears and pushed Lu Si back.
“Did you hear that? The miracle doctor said lion’s head.”
Leaning back in the wheelchair, Lu Si was exhausted but his eyes shone brighter than ever.
He looked up at the dark sky, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Make them. Make eight.”
“You spendthrift!” Su Ci scolded lightly, her steps suddenly lighter.
By the time they returned to the compound, the sky was already streaked with pale light.
Though sleepless, hungry, and tired, their hearts were brimming with hope.
But unknown to them, peering through the crack in the curtain next door, a pair of eyes filled with malice and curiosity followed their every move.
“Up so late… what were those two doing? Could it be…”
The woman’s eyes darted, a vicious thought forming in her mind.