Although the morning sun was not intense and the autumn wind occasionally blew with a chilling draft, Song Bo was still drenched in sweat. Large droplets fell from his forehead to the ground, and the back of his shirt was completely soaked.
Unable to bear the sight, Jiang Jinxi went into the kitchen to fetch a basin of cold water. He took Song Bo’s face cloth, soaked it, and wrung it dry. Taking the damp cloth outside, he said to Song Bo, “Wipe your sweat. It is falling like rain.”
Song Bo was in the middle of sawing a wooden slat. Stopping now might cause him to lose his angle and ruin the cut. Although he felt the heat, he refused at first. “I cannot spare a hand right now. I will wipe it in a moment.”
Jiang Jinxi pursed his lips. He had briefly considered wiping the sweat for Song Bo himself, but the gesture felt too intimate. They were only a fake married couple, and they had not reached the level of closeness where he could perform such an act, so he let the idea go.
Once he finished sawing the slat, Song Bo took the cloth. The icy sensation against his skin made him feel as though he had come back to life, much like the relief of eating ice cream on a sweltering summer day. He offered his thanks, “Thank you.”
“It is a small matter,” Jiang Jinxi replied.
Song Bo looked at the wooden frame components already sawn on the ground and felt a sense of pride. He had never done manual labor in the modern world, yet his first attempt seemed quite successful, even if it was just a simple task of sawing wood.
By mid-morning, Song Bo had finally finished sawing all the pieces for the window frame. He assembled the frame first, then took up a hammer and mortar to set it into the wall. He needed Jiang Jinxi to help hold it steady during this process.
“Is this alright?” Jiang Jinxi asked, supporting the frame with both hands parallel to Song Bo.
“Yes, just keep it still.” As he spoke, Song Bo applied mortar to the four inner surfaces of the wall opening. He then picked up the hammer and began to tap the frame into place. Despite the measurements being correct, the frame did not budge after a dozen strikes. Moreover, he wondered if it was his imagination, but the wall seemed to be vibrating slightly.
To confirm he was not hallucinating, Song Bo asked Jiang Jinxi, “Do you hear anything?”
Jiang Jinxi focused his senses. In the silence, he heard a faint sound, like the rustling of dry leaves being torn apart. He said, “I think I do. What is that…” Before he could finish his sentence, the wall they were standing against collapsed.
As the wall gave way, the wooden beams and tiles from the roof came crashing down. Jiang Jinxi raised his arms to cover his head, bracing for the impact.
The expected pain never came. Instead, he heard a muffled groan from above the back of his head.
Song Bo had been faster than the falling wall. The moment he saw the cracks appear, he had lunged toward Jiang Jinxi, shielding the smaller man beneath his own body. Jiang Jinxi was much shorter, allowing Song Bo to protect him completely.
The materials used for this house were solid; the force of the impact felt similar to being hit by a car, a pain Song Bo remembered from his heroic death in the modern world.
“Are you alright!” Jiang Jinxi immediately turned around. They were extremely close. He saw Song Bo’s brow furrowed in pain, and a drop of warm, crimson liquid fell onto his hand. The sight of the blood stung his eyes. “You are bleeding!”
“I might… not be okay.” As the words left his lips, Song Bo’s head tilted onto Jiang Jinxi’s shoulder, and he lost consciousness.
The weight of the 72-kilogram man fell onto Jiang Jinxi, but he did not feel the weight. He only felt panic. He called Song Bo’s name, but there was no response.
By the time Jiang Jinxi dragged Song Bo out from the ruins, he was exhausted. He knew he could not carry Song Bo to Song Chazai’s house alone, so he laid him on the ground and ran to fetch help.
Song Chazai had just finished seeing a patient and had sat down to rest. She was about to brew some tea when she heard a loud commotion at her gate, suggesting someone was approaching in a desperate hurry.
Assuming it was a medical emergency, she set the tea aside and went to the door, only to see a familiar figure running toward her. “Jinxi? Why is it you?”
Jiang Jinxi had run so hard that he could taste blood in his mouth. He bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Seeing his distress, Song Chazai stepped forward and rubbed his back to help him regulate his breathing. “Breathe slowly,” she urged.
After several deep breaths, Jiang Jinxi managed to speak. “Song Bo. Something happened to Song Bo.”
Song Chazai had already suspected it involved him. She quickly went inside to grab her medical kit. Together, they hurried back to Song Bo’s house.
On the way, Song Chazai asked for details to help with her diagnosis. “We were fixing the window. The wall collapsed on him, and he is unconscious,” Jiang Jinxi explained.
“What!” Song Chazai had not expected the situation to be so grave.
They moved so quickly that they cut the travel time in half. When they arrived, the ground where Song Bo lay was already stained with blood. His head rested in a small pool of red.
Jiang Jinxi was only seventeen and had never seen such a scene. He grew even more panicked, his hand trembling as he gripped Song Chazai’s arm. “Aunt, what… what do we do?”
“Do not panic.” Song Chazai felt her own heart racing, but as the only elder present, she had to remain calm. “Help me.”
Jiang Jinxi nodded, and they both knelt beside Song Bo.
Song Chazai first checked for external injuries and discovered a very long, deep gash on his left arm. It was a significant wound, and blood was still flowing freely; much of the blood on the ground had likely come from here. She then moved her hands around his head and felt a slight swelling on the back right side. There might be some internal bleeding. She peeled back his eyelids to check his pupils; they appeared normal, suggesting no major brain damage, and that the bleeding was likely between the skull and the skin.
“Do you know what position he was in when he blocked the wall?” she asked while examining him.
“He was shielding his head with both hands,” Jiang Jinxi said.
Using his hands as a buffer would have significantly lessened the impact on his brain, but that did not mean he was out of danger. They would have to monitor his reactions.
Since the head injury appeared stable for the moment, Song Chazai opened her kit to tend to the arm. Losing too much blood could also be fatal.
“Jinxi, go and boil some water. I need to clean the wound,” she instructed.
“Yes!” Jiang Jinxi pushed himself up and ran to the kitchen.
The embers from the morning fire were still glowing beneath the ash, making it easy to restart the fire. This saved him a great deal of time. Once the water boiled, it had to be cooled; otherwise, it would scald Song Bo’s skin. Fortunately, the autumn air cooled the water quickly. Within fifteen minutes, it reached a safe temperature.
Song Chazai had Jiang Jinxi hold Song Bo’s arm steady while she rinsed the wound. After cleaning it, she applied a generous amount of medicinal powder to stop the bleeding. Then, she reached for a cloth to bind it.
“Oh no, I have used up all the bandages in my kit and forgot to replenish them,” she realized. “I must go back and get more.”
“What kind of cloth do you need?” Jiang Jinxi asked.
Although the bedroom had partially collapsed, the tall wardrobe remained standing and had not been buried by debris. Jiang Jinxi navigated the ruins and forced the wardrobe doors open. He pulled out the clothes Song Bo had bought for him a few days ago. “Will this work?”
“Yes,” Song Chazai said, feeling the fabric. It was soft and perfect for a bandage. However, noticing they were brand new, she asked, “Are you sure you want to use this?”
“Use it,” Jiang Jinxi said without hesitation. Clothes were nothing compared to a life. Even if he had to use the finest silk from the capital, he would not have hesitated to use it for Song Bo.
Once the arm was bandaged, Song Chazai prepared to move Song Bo. His own bedroom was in ruins and uninhabitable.
“Jinxi, stay here with him. I will go to the fields to find your uncle.” They would need Liu Nanmin to bring a flatbed cart to transport him carefully.
“Alright,” Jiang Jinxi nodded, crouching beside Song Bo.
After Song Chazai left, the ruins were silent except for the sound of dry branches rubbing together. The autumn wind blew, and while it was not freezing, it made his heart feel cold. Jiang Jinxi felt a delayed wave of fear. An hour ago, this man was standing and talking to him; now, he lay in a pool of blood. Had it not been to protect him, Song Bo could have easily saved himself.
Jiang Jinxi reached out and touched Song Bo’s pale face, which had lost color due to blood loss. Buddha protect him, he prayed, do not let the King of Hell take his life.
Song Chazai returned quickly with Liu Nanmin, who was pushing a wooden cart. Liu Nanmin was shocked when he saw Song Bo. “How did he get hurt so badly?”
“I will explain later,” Song Chazai said. The three of them worked together to lift Song Bo onto the cart. To ensure he was not further injured, they moved slowly, taking half an hour to reach Song Chazai’s house.
They placed him in a spare room. As he was moved onto the bed, Jiang Jinxi noticed a large bloodstain on the wooden cart where Song Bo had been lying. He said urgently, “Aunt, there is a wound on Song Bo’s back as well.”
The bleeding should have stopped once the arm was bandaged, but the amount of blood on the cart suggested another undiscovered injury. Song Chazai had Liu Nanmin turn him over, revealing another shocking gash across his back.
“He has truly suffered,” Song Chazai said with pity.
Standing to the side, Jiang Jinxi was overwhelmed by a profound sense of guilt.