Zhu Xingxu clutched the wound on her leg, limping painfully as she made her way out.
Damn it! This lunatic, idiot! Absolutely insane.
She had only said one little thing; was it really necessary to hurt her like this?
And this person seemed to be an expert in inflicting injuries. The wound looked exactly like she had suffered a serious fall.
It was utterly humiliating to end up like this in her own room.
To make the scene even more convincing, the masked figure had somehow acquired a small knife and left it on the floor, creating the illusion that she had accidentally fallen on it.
Her small private room was now stained with her blood.
Zhu Xingxu had been walking for a long while without encountering a single royal guard.
After only a few steps, she was already struggling to stay upright.
She considered using her bone whistle, but the masked figure would surely hear it.
And if he crushed her whistle in the process, that would be disastrous.
She had to get further away. Gritting her teeth, Zhu Xingxu continued onward.
Fresh blood gushed from the wound on her lower leg, staining her sky-blue skirt. Each drop fell onto the stone floor of Zhenguo Temple.
Pain made her sweat and light-headed.
After a few more steps, she could no longer stand and sank to the ground, feeling as if she had finally put some distance between herself and her room.
With trembling hands, she lifted her bone whistle and blew with all her strength.
Only a faint sound emerged.
Puzzled, she checked the whistle and tried again, but the sound was still barely audible.
Broken?
It could not be.
Her leg throbbed painfully; she pressed her hand against the wound, hoping the pain would ease.
Desperate, she blew into the whistle again, straining her cheeks until they ached.
Just when she resigned herself to waiting for the soldiers to patrol this way, she heard footsteps approaching.
The royal guards arrived quickly, lanterns in hand.
At the front was Pei Xie, his face anxious as he hurried over.
Tears sprang to Zhu Xingxu’s eyes as she sat on the ground, looking at him.
Seeing her alone, Pei Xie exhaled in relief.
Then he noticed the large dark stains spreading across the hem of her sky-blue skirt.
His pupils contracted sharply.
“Fetch a doctor,” he ordered the guards.
A guard immediately obeyed and went to fetch the medicine.
Pei Xie quickly reached Zhu Xingxu’s side.
“How are you?” he asked.
The familiar fruity sweetness that usually clung to her was gone, replaced by the metallic scent of blood.
She had lost so much blood that her consciousness wavered.
“Pei Xie… it hurts so much,” she said, tears brimming.
Pei Xie’s heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible hand.
Ignoring everything else, he scooped her up and carried her back to her small room.
The masked figure was gone.
Once inside, Pei Xie frowned slightly.
By chance, a doctor from the temple’s night shift was available and was hurriedly brought up by the guards.
The guards conducted their usual search to ensure Pei Xie carried no dangerous items, and only then did the two of them follow him inside.
The doctor took Zhu Xingxu’s pulse and lifted her skirt to examine the wound.
The injury had fused with her undergarments, causing Zhu Xingxu to cry out in pain when it was lifted.
“It hurts so much,” she sobbed, tears threatening to spill.
Since arriving in this world, she had never suffered such a severe injury.
At this moment, she would rather return to the Li residence as a maid; at least then a kneeling knee would swell for a few days and heal.
Pei Xie watched her silently.
The doctor withdrew his hand. “It’s a simple fall injury, though it seems she hit something sharp, which is why she’s bleeding so heavily.”
Pei Xie’s eyes fell on a small knife on the floor, scented with Zhenguo Temple incense, mingling with the metallic scent of blood.
His gaze darkened.
The doctor handed over a prescription, and a guard took it to fetch the medicine.
Zhu Xingxu, thinking of the masked figure’s request, asked, “Could we get extra medicine?”
Pei Xie looked at her.
Nervously, she continued, “If there’s more medicine, we won’t have to go down the mountain again.”
After a moment, Pei Xie said to the guard, “Follow her advice.”
The guard left with the doctor. The room was left with only Pei Xie and Zhu Xingxu.
He sat on a stool near the bed, silently watching her.
Zhu Xingxu avoided his gaze, feigning fatigue and closing her eyes.
Even so, she could feel his gaze.
She knew he was sharp; perhaps he had understood what happened from the beginning.
He was waiting for her to explain the cause and outcome.
But she could not. She wanted the Vermilion Bird totem, and Pei Xie refused to give it to her.
With conflicting interests, Zhu Xingxu could only conceal the truth.
Yet if real danger arose, she would seek his help. She did not know whether death in this world meant returning to modern times or truly dying.
She could not take that risk.
Pei Xie watched her trembling eyelids and exhaled softly.
Half an hour later, the guards returned from the temple kitchen with the boiled medicine.
The doctor had instructed that internal and external treatment would speed recovery.
Pei Xie placed the medicine by her bedside.
“Can you take it yourself?”
Zhu Xingxu nodded. Pei Xie helped her sit up.
His cold body made her shiver, and he quickly withdrew his hands.
Zhu Xingxu drank the medicine, grimacing at the bitter taste. Pei Xie handed her a cup of tea, which she drank in one gulp.
“Pour me another cup,” she asked.
Pei Xie brought the water pot over directly.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully.
He watched silently as she drank.
Zhu Xingxu pinched her nose and swallowed the medicine bit by bit.
When finished, she remembered her main concern.
“Could the medicine and the pot stay here?”
She knew asking this would raise Pei Xie’s suspicion, but she tried anyway.
As expected, his gaze grew even deeper.
Zhu Xingxu longed to confess, but she was unsure whether the masked figure was eavesdropping from the roof.
Their eyes met. She silently pleaded with him.
Pei Xie looked away.
“Understood,” he said lightly.
After leaving, the masked figure returned, as usual wedging his sword in the door to prevent entry.
He inspected the stored herbs, frowning at the mismatched items.
“I’m not a doctor; I can’t decide which herbs to use,” Zhu Xingxu muttered, too tired to argue.
Turning her back, she feigned sleep.
Having endured the pain, she was no longer afraid.
If he wanted to kill her, fine. Just do it quickly.
The masked figure did not intend to kill, instead quietly tending to his own injuries.
Over the next few days, Zhu Xingxu rested during the day and watched the masked figure at night.
He seemed to be frequently injured, moving with practiced skill.
Her leg still prevented her from going to the bathroom alone, so she had Jin Xue bring a chamber pot to the door at night, which she used with a crutch.
By night, she relieved herself in the room, noticing the masked figure frowning tightly.
Sometimes Madam Xu and Ji Chiying came by to keep her company, relieving her boredom.
While resting, Zhu Xingxu conceived a clever plan.
After a few days, her wound had improved, and she no longer needed a crutch.
During the day, she walked in the courtyard to strengthen herself and retrieved the vial of sedatives she had buried.
She could not carry it openly, so she hid the powder under her fingernails, taking care to pack it densely on her left hand.
That night, she feigned exhaustion.
The masked figure arrived as expected.
Zhu Xingxu held her breath, observing his movements.
Over these days, she noted his wound was nearly healed.
If he recovered, he might escape with the totem.
She suspected he might not truly give her the Vermilion Bird totem.
She coughed softly. The masked figure paused, then continued.
Zhu Xingxu pretended to awaken, sluggishly getting out of bed and going to the table.
She poured herself a cup of water, drinking with exaggerated noise, letting out a satisfied “ah” afterward.
The masked figure looked over.
She knew he had taken the bait, yawning while pretending, and continued pouring water.
“Hey, pour me a cup,” he said, his tone sharper.
“What?” she murmured sleepily.
“I said, pour me a cup too,” he repeated, noticing her drowsiness.
She tilted her head, picking up another cup.
“I want the cup you drank from.”
Cautious, he complied. But she had prepared carefully.
She poured the sedative powder hidden under her fingernail into the water without a trace; the powder was colorless and tasteless, dispersing immediately.
Pei Xie’s medicine was high quality, effective and undetectable.
She feigned yawning and rubbed her eyes with the hand that had added the powder.
The masked figure drank the water in one gulp, unaware.
One.
Two.
Three.
By the count of five, he collapsed to the ground.