Chapter 101 “Yan Yan, do you want to know about my mother…”

Chapter 101: "Yan Yan, do you want to know about my mother..."

The sky was filled with slate-gray clouds, blocking the faint daylight. The clouds sagged ominously low, as if they might collapse and pour down at any moment. The north wind howled fiercely, pelting snow that bit like needles against the skin.

A crowd stood at a distance, standing silently in the wind, watching them.

Lan Zhu had arrived too, slightly later than Qiu Liju. When she saw her sworn brother lying motionless in the snow, she instinctively moved forward but was yanked back by Qiu Liju, who shook his head. Lan Zhu had no choice but to stay where she was, her eyes filled with worry.

Jiang Congyan knelt in the snow, feeling the numbing cold seep through her clothes as the snow beneath her knees melted.

A sudden gust of wind swept past, making her shiver. She tightened her arms around Tuoba Wuxi's neck, her teeth clattering as she whispered softly in his ear, "Tuoba Wuxi, I'm cold. Let's go back."

Tuoba Wuxi said nothing.

Jiang Congyan tried to take his hand. His large palms, usually so warm, now felt as cold as ice-cold metal.

She held his hand and tried to stand, bracing herself against his shoulder. Whether from the cold or kneeling too long, her legs had gone numb, and her legs buckled halfway up.

Instinctively, Tuoba Wuxi caught her, only then noticing the snowflakes peppering her hair and her ghostly pale face.

"My legs must be numb. Just a second," Jiang Congyan murmured.

No sooner had she spoken than Tuoba Wuxi's strong arms slipped under her knees and around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

Jiang Congyan let out a small gasp, instinctively struggling for a moment before relaxing. She let him carry her, even looping her arms around his neck and resting her head against his shoulder.

Tuoba Wuxi called out, "Li Eagle!" and the glossy, sturdy horse trotted over, tail swishing. With Jiang Congyan in his arms, he mounted swiftly and soon vanished from sight.

Only after Tuoba Wuxi left did the crowd stir back to life, as if released from a pause.

Qiu Liju hurried over to check on Tuoba Wuxi, who was in a terrible state—his face pummeled to a pulp, his nose seemingly caved in, blood gushing from his mouth. Though his clothes hid most of his injuries, it was clear he was badly hurt, especially his left forearm, where the bone was visible.

Qiu Liju was afraid to touch him and quickly called for a stretcher to carry him away.

With the two main figures gone, the crowd dispersed, leaving behind only a mess of footprints and bright red bloodstains in the snow.

A Fei was shocked when she saw her mistress being carried back by the Prince of Mobei, both looking like a mess.

"Mistress!" A Fei rushed forward, relieved to see Jiang Congyan only had dirty clothes and no visible injuries. Then she noticed the Prince's wounded face and his off mood—something had happened, but it didn’t seem like an argument.

Once back in the tent, Tuoba Wuxi put Jiang Congyan down but remained motionless, as if lost in thought.

Jiang Congyan handed her snow-soaked cloak to A Fei. Her skirt was damp too, but she paid it no mind.

Tuoba Wuxi had been beaten nearly to death, and Tuoba Wuxi wasn’t unhurt either—especially since he’d been out of his mind, ignoring his own injuries. His forehead and lips were split, blood crusted on his skin in dark patches.

Jiang Congyan took his hand, finding his knuckles raw and bleeding, nearly down to the bone.

A Fei offered a hand warmer, seeing how cold her mistress was, but Jiang Congyan declined.

With a glance, Jiang Congyan signaled A Fei, who quickly understood. She had hot water brought to the bath, lit extra braziers in the bedroom, laid out fresh clothes on the warming rack, and prepared a tray with alcohol, ointment, and bandages before retreating to the outer hall.

Alone in the quiet room, the crackling braziers made it much warmer than outside. The howling wind outside only emphasized the coziness within.

After a while, Jiang Congyan felt less cold, her limbs regaining sensation. She looked up at Tuoba Wuxi. "Let me clean your wounds first, then we’ll dress them."

She took his hand and led him to the bathroom.

The man still seemed dazed, but he was compliant, letting her handle him as she pleased.

Jiang Congyan first removed his clothes, which were covered in mud and blood. This exposed his upper body—his left shoulder was swollen from impact, his back was scraped up from gravel, and a dark bruise covered his abdomen as if he had been struck hard.

This was worse than she had imagined, yet the man acted unfazed.

Superficial wounds didn’t reveal everything. Worried about internal injuries, she quickly called A Fei over and instructed her to fetch Zhang Fu.

She soaked a cloth in hot water and wrung it out, guided the man to a nearby stool, and carefully wiped the mud and blood from his face.

Though she tried to be gentle, she inevitably touched his wounds. He flinched, the veins at his temples bulging—clearly in pain, but he stayed silent.

Jiang Congyan cleaned the filth from his entire body, even carefully wiping his hair, strand by strand, then took an alcohol-soaked cotton ball to disinfect his wounds.

"This might sting. Hang in there."

This time, his reaction was stronger than before. His face flushed red, muscles tensing, but he gritted his teeth and endured.

The pain seemed to clear his mind, for the dullness in his jade-green eyes faded, replaced by a glimmer of awareness.

He watched the girl before him, her head bowed as she tended to his wounds, her expression focused and serene. She was so close that her scent reached him. He inhaled deeply, then suddenly buried his face against her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his embrace.

After a moment, he suddenly kissed her.

Jiang Congyan wanted to push his face away but feared touching his wounds. With his lips pressed against hers, she mumbled, "Stop. You’re still bleeding."

To her surprise, he obeyed and went still.

Jiang Congyan continued disinfecting his remaining wounds, then applied ointment and wrapped them in gauze.

When she reached the injuries on his face, she suddenly said, "Such a handsome face—it’d be a shame to ruin it. Stop picking fights so carelessly in the future."

His eyes flickered slightly.

Just then, A Fei announced from outside the curtain that Zhang Fu had arrived.

Jiang Congyan took the clothes from the warming rack and helped him into them before leading him out.

"I appreciate you coming in this cold, Zi Yi. The Prince’s wounds don’t look serious, but I’m concerned about possible internal damage. Please examine him."

Zhang Fu quickly replied, "It’s my duty," and placed a pulse pillow on the nearby high-legged table.

"Prince of Mobei, please rest your wrist here."

Tuo Baxiao seemed not to hear, ignoring Zhang Fu entirely, so Jiang Congyan grabbed his wrist and placed it on the pillow.

After taking his pulse for a while, Zhang Fu said, "His pulse is strong. I don’t think there’s serious damage, but just to be safe, may I check the injuries on his chest and abdomen?"

Jiang Congyan nodded and was about to remove the man’s clothes when he gripped her wrist—a clear refusal.

She considered it. She trusted Zhang Fu’s medical expertise, and if he said there was no major issue, she wouldn’t force the man. She apologized to Zhang Fu and asked him to prepare some medicine for recovery instead.

Zhang Fu naturally agreed.

As the saying goes, treating the body is one thing, but healing the mind matters most. Zhang Fu understood this well—his prescription wasn’t just for replenishing vitality but more for soothing the spirit and calming inner turmoil.

During the pulse diagnosis, Zhang Fu had already detected that the Prince of Mobei was seething with pent-up fury. If it didn’t erupt, he would have to work through it on his own.

After the examination, Zhang Fu took his leave to prepare the medicine.

Not far from the tent, Lan Zhu and Qiu Liju stopped him. "Miracle Doctor, can you save Tuoba Wuxi?"

"He’s in critical condition, at death’s door. Only you can save him. I beg you, please go and help him."

Qiu Liju spoke in Xianbei, but fortunately, Zhang Fu had spent enough time in the royal court and frequently interacted with the Xianbei people, so he just managed to catch the gist.

The Sixth Prince was also injured?

Could the Prince of Mobei’s wounds be related to the Sixth Prince?

Zhang Fu hesitated. Naturally, he was on Lady Jiang’s side, but his oath as a healer forbade him to stand by and watch someone die.

He carefully recalled the earlier situation—Lady Jiang hadn’t mentioned the Sixth Prince, nor had A Fei instructed him not to save him.

If it truly were a matter of life and death, Lady Jiang should have given him orders. Since she hadn’t, the decision was left to him.

Seeing Zhang Fu remain silent, Qiu Liju and Lan Zhu grew increasingly anxious, their hearts clenched in fear.

Tuoba Wuxi had offended the Prince—would he be spared?

Both pairs of eyes begged desperately at Zhang Fu, as if he were their only lifeline.

"Fine, I’ll go take a look."

When he finally nodded, the two were so overjoyed they could barely speak, babbling their gratitude.

Zhang Fu had expected the Sixth Prince’s injuries to be severe, but he was still shocked upon seeing them. He’d seen combat and witnessed far more gory superficial injuries, so these weren’t particularly horrifying to him. What truly surprised him was how brutally the Prince of Mobei had beaten the Sixth Prince—clearly intending to kill. What the hell had sparked this rage? Even when the Sixth Prince had lost battles before, the Prince had never been this enraged.

Then he thought, luckily, Lady Jiang could rein him in, or else the Sixth Prince would already be a corpse.

After a first look, he found that the gory superficial injuries were the least of the concerns. The most critical injuries were five broken ribs, a fractured left arm, a cracked right femur, internal bleeding, and a dented temple—it was unclear whether the brain was affected. One wrong move, and he’d be dead.

Even he couldn’t guarantee full recovery, so he could only tell Qiu Liju he would do his best.

Qiu Liju was already eternally indebted for his willingness to help and didn’t dare ask for more, muttering prayers to the Hutian God in his heart, begging for Tuoba Wuxi’s survival.

…

After Zhang Fu left, Jiang Congyan sneezed—chilled to the bone.

Only then did Tuo Baxiao notice she was still wearing her earlier clothes, the hem of her skirt darker than the rest, clearly soaked.

She had tended to his wounds immediately upon returning but hadn’t changed out of her wet clothes herself.

Guilt hit him, and he hurriedly urged her to change.

Seeing that he was finally speaking and the emptiness in his eyes had faded, Jiang Congyan relaxed and went to change into clean, warm clothes.

Tuo Baxiao grabbed her hand—it was ice-cold.

"My bad," he said.

Jiang Congyan shook her head with a smile and asked A Fei to serve dinner.

By now, night had fallen.

The man, who usually had a hearty appetite and could eat three or four bowls of rice, only managed one bowl today before putting it down—and even that was only because she watched him eat it.

After dinner and washing up, the two lay down in bed. Jiang Congyan moved closer to the man, looping her arms around his waist. "Sleep. When you wake up, today will be behind us."

The man turned and pulled her into a crushing embrace, his grip so tight it nearly pressed her into his bones.

His hold pinched, but she didn’t protest, letting him cling to her.

She was dead tired, and as she lay there, her thoughts soon grew hazy. Just as she was about to drift off, the man’s deep voice suddenly broke the stillness around them:

"Yan Yan, do you want to know about my mother?"

Jiang Congyan’s eyes snapped open.