Aman was strong, so twisting and handling the bamboo strips was easy for her.
Her palms were scratched by the tiny splinters, but she didn’t have time to worry. She poured the brewed medicine into the tub.
After all that work, Aman was out of breath.
He thought: Aman has been working too long. She barely ate anything—how does she still have the strength to do all this? Even a body forged of iron couldn’t handle it.
“Zhao Ye, let’s take a bath today!”
Aman felt satisfied with her handiwork. She had discovered this bamboo grove just today—if she had known, she would have cut more to make bamboo mats or baskets.
Her tools were meager: a not-so-sharp sickle and a chipped kitchen knife. Not ideal, but she made do.
Rubbing her hands together, she looked a little excited.
They had been on the road for four months without a single bath or hair wash. Back then, she had only done a basic wipe-down for Zhao Ye.
Although he was thin now, he still weighed around a hundred jin (≈110 lbs). An ordinary woman might struggle to lift him, but with Aman’s brute strength, it was easy.
Her real name was Shen Zhi, not Shen Aman. Her father had renamed her Aman because her strength was unusual for a girl.
Aman hesitated a little—Zhao Ye’s body was all skin and bones, with open sores and pus in many places. Lifting him might hurt him with her bony embrace.
After thinking, she bent down and lifted him around the waist, holding him in a princess carry. The tall, thin Zhao Ye was now in her arms.
He was very tall—Aman had estimated around 189 cm.
She had been short and undernourished as a child, only 1.2 meters at age eight. After moving to the prince’s mansion and eating better, she gradually grew taller.
Zhao Ye’s face flushed. When had a man of his stature ever been carried by a woman?
Fortunately, his beard hid his blush. Aman began stripping off his clothes without hesitation.
“Aman… stop.”
Zhao Ye’s whole body tensed, nervous.
Aman ignored him, swiftly unbuttoning his garments. His emaciated, skeletal body was now fully exposed before her eyes.
“Aman, y-you stop!”
He panicked as she reached for his trousers. Was she really going to strip him bare?
Modesty between men and women—especially before marriage—was important. How could this happen?
Aman pulled down his trousers anyway, revealing his thin, atrophied legs. She had seen them before, yet every time she felt a pang of shock and sorrow.
As for modesty, Aman had long set it aside.
“It’s come to this. There’s nothing to look at anymore,” she said.
“Which is more important—your body or modesty?”
Being a modern-minded person, she thought differently. She had seen much in her life; exposure wasn’t frightening anymore.
She placed Zhao Ye into the hot water. The warmth enveloped his frail body.
Zhao Ye’s face flamed with embarrassment. If he could move more than just his head, he would be… sigh. But he was powerless—a cripple now.
“Alright, stay in there and soak. I’ll wash my hair too—it’s unbearable how smelly I am.”
After days of work, Aman finally tended to herself. With Zhao Ye safely in the tub, she could freshen up.
Even cold water sufficed in this heat. The well water was murky; she had filtered it with straw, wood ash, charcoal, and cloth the night before.
For drinking, she boiled and cooled it to kill parasites, but washing didn’t require such care.
Her long hair glistened after washing. The good diet at the prince’s mansion had left it shiny and smooth.
Feeling refreshed, she sighed, “So comfortable!”
She went to check Zhao Ye, thinking he might have dozed off. But he was awake, unable to sleep.
Being naked in her care made him incredibly uncomfortable.
“Your Highness, are you asleep?” she whispered.
He wanted to hide, to find a hole and disappear.
“Zhao Ye…?” she murmured. “Really asleep?”
She tested the water—it had cooled. Time to get him out.
As she reached for him, his eyes snapped open, startling her.
“D-did I wake you?”
“No…” Zhao Ye felt awkward but was powerless. He wanted to resist, yet couldn’t—he was at Aman’s mercy.
He knew she was caring for him, working hard, but his pride made him embarrassed.
Aman understood—he was shy about being seen naked.
She now had to thoroughly clean him. Using a cloth, she carefully washed one of his arms, avoiding the pus-filled wounds to prevent infection.
“No need to be embarrassed. Better than losing your life,” Aman said. “Just think of me as a male servant.”
“When we served you at the prince’s mansion, wasn’t it the same?”
“You’re not a servant anymore,” Zhao Ye thought quietly. And never would be.