The night finally come and everything was silent.
Chu Ning’er was already fast asleep on the corner of the mattress, her small hand still loosely gripping the warm green jade stone. The pale blue tint beneath her skin had faded into a soft, healthy pink, and her breathing was long and quiet.
Mo Ran sat in her wooden wheelchair near the edge of the bed. She had been rolling back and forth for hours, but now her arms were tired. She sat perfectly still, her eyes locked onto the small paper packets of medicine left on the stool. Every few minutes, she stared down to her useless, unmoving legs, a feeling of intense doubt and old grief crossing her face.
Ye Xinyang was sitting cross-legged next to Ning’er, holding the piece of charcoal-written parchment I had given her. She hadn’t started practicing yet. She just stared at the messy characters, her lower lip tucked between her teeth, her chest rising and falling in a slow, hesitant rhythm that make her more beautiful.
Gu Qinghan was the only one who hadn’t moved at all. She sat on a wooden box near the window, her back perfectly straight, her fingers lightly tapping the smooth surface of her empty sword sheath. The blood-stained white cloth wrapped around her eyes caught the glow of the fire.
I stood up, holding the tiny crystal of Spirit-Awaking Liquid hidden in my palm. The fluid inside sparkled like liquid starlight, completely cold against my skin.
I walked over to Gu Qinghan, my step making a soft noise on the floor so I wouldn’t startle her. As I got closer, her finger stopped tapping the sheath. Her head tilted up slightly, her blindfolded face turning exactly toward my chest.
"Lu Chen," she said, her voice quiet but incredibly sharp. "Your heart rate is steady, but your footsteps are lighter than they were an hour ago. Why are you coming near me?"
The other two girls instantly looked up. Ye Xinyang dropped her parchment onto her lap, her body tensing out of habit. Mo Ran’s hands gripped the rims of her wooden wheels, her grip getting more tightened. The tension in the small room instantly increase .They still couldn’t completely shake the fear and they still have some doubt about me that’s why they still don’t trust me completely.
"I have something for your eyes," I said, keeping my voice very low, soft, and calm.
Mo Ran let out a breathless gasp from her chair. "His eyes? Lu Chen, what are you talking about? Her eyes were cut out by a specialized poison blade from the iron Sword Clan. The meridians in her sockets are completely black and dead. Don’t make fun or play with her you low level servent. That’s too cruel, even for you."
"Mo Ran, be quiet," Gu Qinghan said, though her own hands were starting to tremble against her wooden sheath. She turned her blind face back to me, her lips parting slightly.
"She is right, Lu Chen. My sight didn’t just fade. The light was taken from me by force. There is nothing left inside to heal. If you are doing this to give me false hope so I will rely on you... please, stop."
I didn’t back away. I knelt down on the floor right in front of her.
"I’m not playing games, Qinghan," I said, looking up at the blood-stained cloth covering her face. My voice was smooth, gentle, and completely devoid of the flat coldness I used to show the sect bullies. "And I don’t want you to rely on me out of weakness. I want you to rely on me because I am your husband. I know what the world did to you. I know they took everything and left you in the dark. But I am standing right here in front of you. I’m not going anywhere."
Gu Qinghan sat frozen. The kind words seemed to hit her harder than any physical blow. A beautiful flush of pink appeared on her ears, spreading down her neck. She had been a proud sword master, a genius who everyone praised when she was strong—but the moment she fell, everyone ran away. No one had ever knelt just to tell her they would stay.
"It... it will hurt," she whispered, her voice dropping all its stoic armor, revealing a terrified girl hiding behind a sword sheath. "The dark is safe, Lu Chen. If I try to look... and there is nothing but blackness... I don’t think I can take it a second time."
"Then don’t look for the world yet," I said, reaching out very slowly. I paused, letting her hear the rustle of my sleeve, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t move. I gently placed the tips of my fingers against the knot of the white cloth at the back of her head. "Just look for me. We will take it one single drop at a time. If it hurts, we stop. I promise you."
Ye Xinyang watched us from the bed, her breath completely caught in her throat. Her hand reached out and loosely gripped the fabric of Chu Ning’er’s blanket, her eyes softening into something deep, emotional, and intensely protective. She wasn’t looking at a slave anymore. She was looking at a man who was slowly weaving a shelter around them with his own hands.
Gu Qinghan let out a long breath and slowly let her hands drop away from her sword sheath. "Okay," she muttered, her head bowing slightly toward me. "I will try."
I untied the knot. The rough white cloth slid away, pooling on the flool.
Her eyelids were closed, surrounded by faint, silver scar lines that ran down her cheekbones. Even with the damage, her face had a delicate, sharp beauty that looked like carved jade in the firelight.
I pulled the small cork from the crystal vial.
"Lean your head back against the wall, Qinghan," I whispered, leaning in closer. Our faces were only a few inches apart now. I could smell the faint, wild scent of her hair, and her warm breath hit my chin, fast and shallow. She was incredibly nervous, her chest rising and falling rapidly under her red silk.
I placed my thumb gently on her brow, lifting her eyelid just a fraction. With my other hand, I tilted the vial and let a single, sparkling blue drop fall directly into her dark, scarred eye socket.
The moment the liquid touched her flesh, Gu Qinghan gasped. Her fingers flew up out of instinct, grabbing the fabric of my red sleeves, her nails digging straight through the cloth into my arms.
"It’s... it’s hot," she panted, her forehead breaking out into a sudden sweat. "It feels like a small fire is burning behind my forehead... Lu Chen..."
"I know. Hold onto me," I murmured, using my free hand to gently cover her shaking fingers on my sleeve, squeezing them softly to give her comfort. Her skin was freezing, but as I held her hand, a steady warmth from my tempered body passed into her. "Don’t fight the heat. Let it wash through the dark. It’s just the dead paths waking up. I’m right here. I’ve got you."
Mo Ran rolled her chair a few inches closer, her jaw dropping as she watched the silver scars around Qinghan’s eyes suddenly flash with a very faint, beautiful blue light. The blackened veins under her skin were pulsing, turning clear and clean as the starlight fluid soaked into her optic nerves.
After a long minute, the tension in Gu Qinghan’s body slowly melted away. Her grip on my arm loosened, though she didn’t take her hand away from mine. She let her eyelids close completely, a soft, peaceful expression settling onto her face.
The burning pain had turned into a gentle, cool tingling sensation, like fresh spring water flowing through a dry riverbed.
She slowly opened her eyes.
They weren’t clear yet. They were still cloudy, covered in a faint grey mist—but underneath the fog, the pupils were no longer dead and black. A tiny, deep spark of spiritual light was swirling inside them. She blinked, turning her face left and right, her breath trembling.
"I... I can’t see the room," she whispered, her voice thick with a sudden, overwhelming rush of tears. She looked straight at my face, her cloudy eyes trying to focus on my features. "But... I can see a light. Right in front of me. There is a warm, golden shape sitting in the dark. Lu Chen... is that you?"
"It’s me," I said softly, reaching up to gently wipe a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb. The skin of her face was incredibly soft, and she flinched slightly at the touch before leaning her cheek into my palm out of sheer vulnerability. "The medicine will take time, Qinghan. A few drops every night. By the time the sect competition arrives, you’ll be able to see the color of the leaves again."
Gu Qinghan didn’t say anything. She just let her head drop forward until her forehead rested gently against my shoulder, her shoulders shaking as she let out a quiet, weeping sound of pure, unadulterated happiness. She had been trapped in a cold, silent prison for so long, and I had just handed her the key.
I wrapped my arms around her comfortingly, holding her tightly against my chest in the quiet shack.
Ye Xinyang silently picked up her charcoal parchment from her lap, her eyes glistening with her own unshed tears. She looked at the bone-cultivation technique with a completely new fire in her soul. She didn’t doubt the manual anymore. If Lu Chen could bring light back to a blind sword master, he could bring strength back to her broken bones.
Mo Ran sat in her chair, looking at the two of us, then down at her own legs. For the first time, the bitter expression on her face didn’t look like anger—it looked like hope. She bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper in the dim room.
"Lu Chen... when she’s done... can you look at my legs too?"
I looked up over Qinghan’s shoulder, meeting Mo Ran’s hesitant, vulnerable gaze, and gave her a small, reassuring nod.
"Tomorrow," I promised her, my voice warm. "We do this together. One day at a time."