Song Bo was jolted awake by a pressing need to urinate. After more than half a day of rest, the dull throbbing in his head had subsided, though the wounds on his body still stung with a faint, lingering pain. He propped himself up with one arm and crawled out of bed, slowly maneuvering his body to the floor. Sliding into his shoes, he moved with the extreme caution of a toddler learning to walk, inching forward step by step.
Although the physical discomfort had faded considerably, the head injury made him wary. He was terrified of accidentally bumping into something or jarring his head, fearing he might collapse and cause more trouble for Jiang Jinxi and Song Chazai.
A shadow flickered against the window. The figure moved, and Jiang Jinxi pushed open the door to the side room. Seeing Song Bo standing in the middle of the floor, Jiang Jinxi lunged forward in a single stride. He set the meal he was carrying onto the wooden table and grabbed Song Bo’s arm. “Where are you going?”
“I need to use the latrine,” Song Bo said.
Earlier, due to excessive blood loss, Song Bo had felt no urge to go. However, after consuming medicine and porridge over the last few hours, his condition had improved, and the biological necessity had finally returned.
Without a second thought, Jiang Jinxi said, “I will help you. It will be faster and more stable.”
Sensing Song Bo’s urgency, Jiang Jinxi added thoughtfully, “Or, I could ask Aunt if she has a chamber pot. You could relieve yourself here in the room.”
As a grown man who was not yet completely immobile, Song Bo naturally had no desire to relieve himself in the bedroom. He refused immediately. “No need. Just help me to the latrine.”
With Jiang Jinxi’s support, Song Bo moved much faster. Song Chazai happened to be bringing over more medicine just as she caught sight of their retreating figures. One tall and one short, Song Bo leaned slightly toward Jiang Jinxi, their hair fluttering in the breeze and tangling together. They looked quite like a real married couple.
During this trip out of the village, Jiang Jinxi had shown no inclination to run away. Instead, he had been busy tending to everything regarding Song Bo’s recovery. Originally, one bottle each of the gold-wound powder and the skin-regenerating cream would have sufficed, but Jiang Jinxi had insisted on taking three bottles, claiming he did not want Song Bo to be left with scars.
The players are confused, but the spectator sees clearly, Song Chazai thought as she turned back with the medicine. She would return in a little while.
Fortunately, the latrine was not far from the side room. Otherwise, Song Bo truly worried he might wet himself before reaching it.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Ancient latrines were rustic and simple, and the moment he entered, he was hit by a pungent, suffocating odor. In the past, Song Bo would have finished as quickly as possible, but today he had to endure the stench and move slowly.
Jiang Jinxi stood guard outside the door. He dared not stray too far, fearing he would not hear Song Bo if he called out.
Perhaps the smell in the latrine was too overpowering, but Song Bo’s head suddenly felt a bit dizzy. He leaned one hand against the wall, waiting for the sensation to pass before continuing.
Inside the latrine, all was quiet. Jiang Jinxi’s ears twitched as he waited. After a moment of hesitation—opening his mouth, closing it, and opening it again—he finally summoned the courage to speak. “Do you… need me to come in and help you?”
“No.”
Hearing Song Bo’s answer, Jiang Jinxi let out a massive sigh of relief, and his tone lightened significantly. “Then call me if you need anything. I am right outside the door.”
“Alright, thank you,” Song Bo’s voice drifted out from within.
Once finished, Song Bo felt an immense sense of physical relief. The feeling of a full bladder was unbearable; he had not experienced it since his college entrance exams, and he had not expected to face it again only ten days after arriving in ancient times.
Song Bo leaned against the wall and opened the door. “All set. Help me back.”
Once they returned to the room, Jiang Jinxi helped Song Bo back onto the bed before bringing over the food from the table.
Because of the detour to the latrine, much time had passed, and the food had grown cold. Jiang Jinxi sat on the edge of the bed and touched the side of the bowl. It was colder than his own hand. He said, “Wait a moment. I will take this to the kitchen to heat it up.”
Song Bo reached out and gripped Jiang Jinxi’s wrist. “No need. I actually like eating cold food.”
Jiang Jinxi immediately protested, “How can that be?”
Song Bo simply took a large spoonful of rice and shoved it into his mouth. “See? It is perfectly fine.”
Now that he had regained enough strength to eat on his own, Song Bo did not let Jiang Jinxi feed him. He asked Jiang Jinxi to pour all the dishes into the rice bowl. Holding the bowl, he ate in small bites; it was convenient, and the rice soaked up the savory flavors of the dishes.
As Song Bo ate quietly, the room fell into silence. Suddenly, Jiang Jinxi began to speak, recounting everything that had happened during his trip to Chuanfu Town today.
Just as Song Bo finished his meal, he set the bowl down and summarized, “So, you pointed out a pharmacy’s mistake in packing antagonistic herbs, and then you helped a stall owner chase away a troublemaker?”
Jiang Jinxi pursed his lips and nodded. From Song Bo’s tone, he could not tell if he was about to be praised or scolded.
“How are you so impressive? Are you actually a genius?” Song Bo praised him. He truly had not expected that Jiang Jinxi, after only reading medical books for a few days, could spot an error made by professionals. Furthermore, he had stood his ground in front of a crowd and clearly cited the laws of the Kingdom of Heng. This proved that Jiang Jinxi was a sharp and resourceful individual. Such a person would have achieved great things in any field, yet the original story had reduced him to a mere canary.
Being only seventeen, Jiang Jinxi was still at an age where he craved validation. Hearing Song Bo’s praise, his toes wiggled with joy inside his shoes, though he kept his expression stern. “It was nothing, just a small effort.”
“Jinxi is quite brilliant; even my master grew very fond of him,” Song Chazai interjected as she returned with the medicine. She had been listening to their conversation from outside and stepped into the room to join them.
“Your master?” Song Bo asked.
The original host knew Song Chazai practiced medicine but had no idea where she had learned it. In the original story, the host was merely a bit player who was killed off within a year, so there were no details about his relatives. Consequently, Song Bo had not known that Song Chazai had a teacher.
“You need not worry about who my master is. Just know that he likes Jinxi very much,” Song Chazai said. She set down the medicine and pulled up a stool, telling Song Bo to remove his shirt so she could examine the wounds on his back and arm.
Song Bo did not hesitate. He obediently untied his sash. Jiang Jinxi’s gaze fixed on Song Bo’s hands, noting the clear veins as his fingertips gripped the knot. As Song Bo applied slight pressure, the knot loosened, the fabric fell away, and his chest was revealed.
Realizing what he was looking at, Jiang Jinxi’s face flushed red, and he quickly looked away.
Song Bo pulled the garment down his arms and continued, “Jinxi is both smart and beautiful. It is only natural that your master likes him.”
“Him, too?” Song Chazai noted Jiang Jinxi’s subtle reaction. Hearing Song Bo’s response, she asked, “Does that mean you like Jinxi, too?”
Jiang Jinxi’s ears perked up. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the empty rice bowl.
“Of course. I like him, too,” Song Bo replied without a moment’s hesitation.
Jiang Jinxi’s heart began to race at those words. Feeling as though he might suffocate if he stayed in the room any longer, he grabbed the empty bowl and said, “I… I will go wash the dishes.” Then, he fled the room in a panic.
Watching him bolt, one would have thought he was being pursued by a ferocious beast.
Song Chazai first had Song Bo drink his medicine before she began changing his bandages. Intending to probe his feelings, she asked casually, “Since you also like Jinxi, why don’t we find a time to marry him properly with a formal ceremony?”
After all, the way they had become a couple was not exactly legitimate and could not be discussed openly.
Song Bo held the empty medicine bowl between his knees and rubbed the rim with his thumbs. “The ‘like’ I mean is not that kind of like.” Remembering the plot of the original story, his voice grew somber. “He will have to leave this place eventually.”
Song Chazai held the medicine jar between her thumb and middle finger, tapping it with her index finger to let the powder fall evenly onto the wound. She replied, “Are you a fortune teller? How can you be so sure Jinxi will leave?”
Song Bo could not tell her about the original novel. He lowered his head, staring at the white interior of the empty bowl. “You can see it, too. Jinxi is no ordinary commoner. Once his family finds him, we will have to return him.” These words reflected his true thoughts, yet saying them aloud felt slightly wrong. “I can only protect him during this period. His future is much broader than this.”
Song Bo’s words were not without merit. Every gesture of Jiang Jinxi’s carried the air of a young noble. He could write, and his hands were free of the calluses formed by manual labor; it was clear he had been raised as a precious treasure.
Song Chazai was older and more experienced than Song Bo. She believed that a marriage should be between social equals. The trope of a poor boy and a wealthy lady only existed in storybooks. In reality, such a man would be ridiculed and slandered behind his back.
In that light, Song Bo and Jiang Jinxi were indeed not a good match. Although she hated to belittle her own nephew, Song Bo truly was not a fitting match for Jiang Jinxi.
“You speak as though you know exactly when his family will come looking for him,” Song Chazai remarked.
“Does it matter when they come? If you lost a precious pearl, would you not search for it?” Song Bo countered.
Song Chazai fell silent, quietly applying the medicine. Finally, she could not help but let out a sigh. “It is fine. We will make plans for after he leaves.”
Once the medicine was applied, she took the empty bowl and left the room, leaving Song Bo alone.
Perhaps affected by the pain of his injuries, his mood felt somewhat low. He looked out the window. The trees at Song Chazai’s house were in better condition than his own; there were still green leaves, though some were turning yellow. A bird landed on a branch, chirped a few times while looking at Song Bo, and then spread its wings and flew out of sight.
Forget it, why think so much? he told himself. He was merely the “cannon fodder” husband. The only thing he could do was protect Jiang Jinxi for a year, let him do as he pleased, and ensure he spent that year in happiness.