Chapter 451: Chapter 435 Love and Desire
Xie Xun woke up after midnight. The doctor prescribed some pain-relieving medicine, which Nuanyang helped him drink. Charcoal burned in the room, with one window left open for ventilation. Fengyu sat beside him, keeping him company. When she saw him awaken, she hastily brought him a cup of warm water. Xie Xun was in such pain that he couldn’t sit up; every slight movement sent searing pain shooting through his bones.
"Don’t move!" Fengyu’s heart ached for him. She pressed down on his shoulder, her brows knit tight. Supporting his head carefully, she helped him drink the water. Xie Xun let out a muffled groan. "It hurts so much!"
"You realize it hurts now? Sparring is sparring, but why did you both fight as if you wanted to kill each other? You’re bedridden, and Brother Fang is seriously injured too." Fengyu didn’t want to blame him, but she was genuinely furious.
During such a festive time near the New Year, they had caused chaos, leaving everyone worried. While their injuries weren’t fatal, they were severe. The doctor said Xie Xun’s bones would take a month to heal, and he shouldn’t touch a blade or sword during this time.
He deserved it!
Xie Xun obediently endured her scolding. Fengyu was not one to nag, so after venting once, she didn’t repeat herself. Seeing the late hour, Xie Xun tried to persuade her to rest. He didn’t want her to tire herself over him—Nuanyang and Feiying could look after him, and the doctor was also staying in the manor. Besides, his injuries weren’t life-threatening. Fengyu ignored his words and instructed Qiuxiang to bring over some porridge. After waiting for it to cool to a suitable temperature, she prepared to feed him.
Xie Xun asked, "How is Fang Chuning?"
"Second Brother is taking care of him. I don’t know for sure."
"What!" Xie Xun grew anxious and tried to prop himself up, only for the movement to wring cold sweat from his body due to the pain. "Is he staying in Second Brother’s room?"
"Yes!"
"Why? You should’ve prepared a guest room for him! How did he end up in Second Brother’s room?"
"He was unconscious, and Second Brother carried him there. Who would dare stop him? This is your fault. If you hadn’t injured him so badly, he wouldn’t have ended up in Second Brother’s bed." Fengyu knocked lightly on his head. "Focus on yourself. Stop worrying about him and focus on recovering."
"..." Xie Xun slammed his fist on the bed in frustration. "Fox spirit! Crafty and deceitful!"
Seeing how much spirit he still had, Fengyu suddenly felt that Fang Chuning had held back too much—it seemed Xie Xun hadn’t been hurt enough. Just as the thought crossed her mind, she noticed his face turning pale, beads of sweat forming as he obviously endured the pain silently. Feeling both angry and pitying, she pressed him down. "Stop messing around."
"Has Second Brother come to see me?"
"No!" Fengyu replied with a soft smile. "After what you did to him, you still expect him to come see you?"
"I’m definitely hurt worse than him," Xie Xun muttered indignantly. He hadn’t targeted conspicuous areas like Fang Chuning had, but even so, his bones felt as if they were shattered.
"Why did you aim for his face? The wounds are so visible. If I were Second Brother, I’d also feel more sympathy for him and be angrier at you for being so ruthless. With injuries all over your body but none showing, how foolish can you be?" Fengyu pitied Xie Xun for having been outsmarted by Fang Chuning, but ultimately, the two of them were evenly matched—neither could fully blame the other.
"Got it!" Xie Xun gritted his teeth. "Once I recover, I’ll fight him again."
"..." Fengyu, exasperated, shoved a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. "Shut up!"
Xie Jue’s room.
Xie Jue had always preferred peace and quiet. He only kept two attendants in his courtyard to manage his daily needs, refill his tea, and maintain his living space. No one was assigned to keep watch or serve during the night, making his courtyard exceptionally silent after dark. Fang Chuning still hadn’t woken up. After feeding Fang Chuning the prescribed medicine, Xie Jue moved him to the innermost side of the bed, then climbed into bed himself and sat by the headboard reading a book.
A dry towel lay beside him, and whenever Fang Chuning broke out in a sweat, Xie Jue would wipe it away, ensuring his body remained clean and dry. Medicine brewed on the stove, filling the room with its therapeutic aroma.
Xie Jue experienced mild night blindness, so the room was lit by six lamps. Remembering the doctor’s advice, he set the book down after a quarter-hour. Getting out of bed, he opened a window to let some of the heat out of the room.
He made himself a pot of tea, then sat by the window, sipping tea and watching the snow outside.
A quarter-hour passed.
The tea was finished, and the snow admired.
Xie Jue extinguished four of the lamps, leaving only two to cast a dim glow. Returning to the bed, he lay down beside Fang Chuning, his eyes barely closed. Though the hour was already late, sleep eluded him entirely. He felt like a beast trapped in a cage—calm on the surface but restless within.
Opening his eyes again, he found his vision growing hazier. Whether it was fatigue or the depth of the night, he couldn’t tell. Xie Jue shifted closer to Fang Chuning, turning slightly on his side to face him. Fang Chuning’s face bore three bruises, swollen and vividly discolored from Xie Xun’s blows.
Xie Jue’s fingers brushed lightly over Fang Chuning’s furrowed brow. The temperature of Fang Chuning’s skin was slightly higher than that of his fingertips.
"So unsightly."
Though he’d seen Fang Chuning gravely injured numerous times before, it was the first time his face had been battered so badly. With only two lamps left alight, the room was plunged into dim, muted shadows. As he closed his eyes, his other senses seemed to sharpen—his sense of smell; his hearing.
He caught the scent that lingered in his dreams.
He heard the rhythm of a familiar heartbeat.
Xie Jue reached out, his pinky finger hooking around Fang Chuning’s. The fleeting contact allowed him to feel the latter’s warmth.
In the quiet of the night, with the wind and the sound of steady breaths surrounding him, the sensations spread recklessly, like vines wrapping around him, suffocating him. Those vines reminded him of the hands in his dreams, tracing the contours of his face.
He thought of the nights in Beiman.
Cold, yet somehow warm.
Snow-covered landscapes, the chaos of battle everywhere.
The mutual trust and reliance born of desperate survival, ingrained deep in their bones: the blurred lines between life and death, love and desire—inseparable, yet chained by reason, trapped in an abyss, unable to move.
Only during nights like these, in the solitary wind and snow, and in moments devoid of consciousness—
Reason crumbled inch by inch, allowing love and desire to run free.
Still unconscious, Fang Chuning seemed to move instinctively, or perhaps simply out of habit. Their pinky fingers, once tenuously linked, gradually shifted until, somehow, their fingers fully intertwined.
There’s nothing more helpless in this world than watching yourself fall into the abyss with unwavering clarity.