Chapter 171 He Survived.

Chapter 171: He Made It Out Alive

Tuo Baxiao lunged forward, barely catching Jiang Congyan's waist, but the momentum sent them both tumbling to the ground.

"My lady!"

The crowd pressed forward cautiously, but with Tuo Baxiao present, none dared approach directly.

"Yan Yan!" Tuo Baxiao lowered his head, his gaze falling upon a deathly pale face.

Over a month had passed since they last met, and she had grown even thinner since then. Her cheeks were hollow, her skin clinging to bone, her lips cracked and ashen. A web of fine cuts marked her face and neck—scratches from the underbrush and leaves during her frantic journey through the forest.

"Yan Yan!" Tuo Baxiao clutched her tightly, calling desperately. The woman in his arms lay motionless, her long lashes shut, her breathing so faint it might cease. Pure terror seized him.

"Someone! Someone!" he roared, his voice raw with panic, his entire body trembling.

After the battle, Wei Liao had immediately summoned the military physician, who now hurried forward at the call.

"Prince of Mobei, the physician is here."

Still seated on the ground, Tuo Baxiao adjusted his posture slightly and lifted Jiang Congyan's arm.

The physician hesitated for a moment.

Tuo Baxiao was soaked in his own blood, his armor still dripping with fresh crimson—a gruesome sight. Though the physician was accustomed to battlefield horrors, it wasn’t the gore that gave him pause—it was the terrifying presence radiating from Tuo Baxiao, making it difficult to approach. After a cautious glance confirmed that the prince had no intention of moving, the physician knelt carefully beside them and took Jiang Congyan’s wrist to check her pulse.

The moment his fingers touched her skin, his brow furrowed.

Trained originally as an herbalist in traditional medicine before becoming a military physician, his diagnostic skills were not as refined as those of renowned doctors, but he could still discern basic symptoms.

And what he felt now was far from reassuring—her pulse was thready, her breathing shallow.

"How is she?" Tuo Baxiao demanded, his sharp glare intensifying as he noticed the physician’s grim expression.

The physician’s hand trembled under Tuo Baxiao's glare, fearing that a single wrong word might provoke Tuo Baxiao into ordering his execution.

"The lady has been traveling nonstop for days. Pushing herself beyond her limits caused her collapse," he explained.

From the moment Jiang Congyan received the distress signal until now, she had ridden relentlessly for two days and nights. Including the ambush, it totaled three days and two nights—far beyond her limits. A stronger person might recover after some rest, but she'd always been delicate. Pushing herself this hard, coupled with extreme emotional turmoil, left her life hanging in the balance.

This, the physician dared not state outright, focusing instead on treatment.

"Right now, the priority is finding a suitable place for the lady to rest and receive care," he added.

Tuo Baxiao closed his eyes briefly. Even without details, he could picture her ordeal these past days.

First, breaking through an ambush. Then, upon receiving the Imperial Guard’s message, she must have beseeched the Marquis of Liangzhou for troops before racing back with the army, day and night without pause.

She'd always been delicate. In the past, even an hour or two of riding at a normal pace would leave her exhausted. Yet now, she had pushed through two days and nights of relentless travel. He marveled at the willpower that had kept her going.

And the thought that she had done it all for him filled him with overwhelming guilt.

He shouldn't have quarreled with her, shouldn't have ignored her, shouldn't have forgotten her need to return to Liangzhou. Had he not fallen for Wudati Hou’s trap, she would never have suffered like this. This exhaustion could kill her...

"Prince of Mobei, my men have located a small village nearby. We should head there for now," Wei Liao suggested.

Tuo Baxiao was silent for a moment before nodding. He lifted Jiang Congyan into his arms, staggered but caught himself.

He Zhou, noticing the arrows still embedded in Tuo Baxiao’s body and the deep wounds on his arms and legs, gathered his courage to speak. "My lord, you're badly wounded too. Perhaps the physician should tend to you first. Let Si Zi escort the lady ahead."

Tuo Baxiao ignored them, only holding Jiang Congyan tightly in his arms, not daring to let her go for a second.

Wei Liao had no choice but to bring over a warhorse. Tuo Baxiao mounted it and had Wei Liao guide the way ahead.

They had only traveled a short distance when another commotion arose from the woods in the distance—the sound of galloping. The Liangzhou troops on the perimeter assumed the Xiongnu had returned and immediately took defensive stances. But when the figures emerged and the situation became clear, everyone relaxed.

It was a herd of horses.

Leading them was a towering, glossy black stallion, powerfully built, followed by dozens of other horses.

It was the Li Eagle.

The cliff Tuo Baxiao had climbed was too steep for horses to climb, and even if they did, they’d be useless in a fight. So, he had ordered the Li Eagle to hide far away, and the other Imperial Guards had also abandoned their steeds.

At the time, the Xiongnu had been solely focused on him, leaving no opportunity to pursue the horses, allowing the Li Eagle to escape the encirclement. Now, hearing the battle had ended, it had returned to its master.

Its mane was caked with blood, and its body bore numerous cuts and stab wounds, though thankfully none were fatal.

Tuo Baxiao did not ride it, instead clicking his tongue to call it forward.

The group retreated from the mountains, following the river until they reached a wide clearing where, as expected, a tiny village of twenty or thirty households stood.

Wei Liao sent men to negotiate, and soon the villagers cleared out their best clay house to welcome the group. The rest of the Liangzhou Army camped on the outskirts, drawing water, cooking, and dressing wounds.

Tuo Baxiao stepped inside the house and laid Jiang Congyan on the bed. Si Zi hurried after, immediately instructing Lu Zhu to boil water.

"My lord, the lady’s scraped up," Si Zi said. "She refused to treat them earlier, fearing it would delay the march. I brought medicine."

"Treat her," Tuo Baxiao commanded.

Only then did Si Zi step forward.

Moments later, Lu Zhu returned with hot water and a charcoal heater. Si Zi began to remove Jiang Congyan’s clothes.

Once the garments were undone, Tuo Baxiao saw the full extent of her injuries—her once pristine, porcelain skin was now covered in scrapes and bruises.

His heart clenched, his jaw tightening so hard he could barely breathe.

Her inner thighs were especially gruesome, a mangled mess of flesh. Just looking at it was enough to imagine the pain. Her knees and calves were next—her knees had struck the ground when she dismounted, now swollen into purple, knotted lumps, and a fall during the night had scraped a large patch of skin from her calves. Dozens of smaller bruises and cuts peppered her skin.

He had always called her delicate, but now he wished she had been even more so—anything to spare her this suffering.

She could have waited safely in Liangzhou for news, yet she had insisted on riding with the army.

Si Zi’s chest tightened as well. She had known the lady was injured, but she hadn’t expected it to be this severe. Blood had soaked into the fabric of her undergarments, sticking them to her wounds. Her hands trembled as she peeled them away.

First, she wrung out a hot cloth to wipe away the dust and dirt from Jiang Congyan’s body, then disinfected the wounds with alcohol.

The exposed wounds burned fiercely under the alcohol’s touch, yet Jiang Congyan remained still, her long lashes shut, not even a flinch. If not for her faint breathing and lingering warmth, one might have thought she was already...

Si Zi worked with painstaking care, finally taking out a bottle of medicine and sprinkling the powder—designed to stop bleeding and promote healing—over the wounds before wrapping them in bandages.

Though traveling light, Jiang Congyan had made sure to bring ample medical supplies, all prepared by Zhang Fu and of the highest quality.

These flesh wounds looked terrifying, but they weren’t life-threatening. The real danger lay in her extreme physical exhaustion.

Once the bandages were secured, Si Zi carefully dressed Jiang Congyan in a clean undergarment, finally completing the makeshift treatment.

Tuo Baxiao stared at her face, still ghostly pale. He longed to touch her but stopped halfway, noticing his fingers were caked with blood. She was so clean now—he couldn’t dirty her.

Seeing this, Si Zi softly advised, "My King, you should get your wounds treated."

Tuo Baxiao didn’t respond, sitting by the bedside with his eyes locked on Jiang Congyan.

He had long reached his limit—riding nonstop for over a thousand miles from the royal court, fighting the Huns for three days and nights, not sleeping for almost six days, and covered in wounds. Had he not seen Jiang Congyan, he might have collapsed the moment the battle ended. But now, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let himself close his eyes.

Just then, the military physician announced outside that the medicine’s done. Tuo Baxiao allowed him to enter.

Si Zi took the medicine bowl, forced open Jiang Congyan’s clenched lips with a tongue depressor, and carefully fed her the medicine.

After taking the medicine, within a quarter or half an hour, Jiang Congyan’s complexion seemed to regain a little color—then just as quickly faded again.

She wasn’t recovering. She was spiking a fever.

"Physician! Physician!" Si Zi hurriedly called for help.

The physician was called back in to check Jiang Congyan’s pulse.

The fever was likely caused by exhaustion and catching a chill. He could brew another dose of medicine, but he couldn’t guarantee its effectiveness.

Hearing this, Tuo Baxiao’s gaze turned deadly cold.

Si Zi, too, was frightened—especially afraid that Tuo Baxiao might snap—and quickly urged the physician to prepare another dose.

Yet even after getting the second dose into her, Jiang Congyan showed no signs of improvement.

Already weakened to the extreme, now burning up—how could anyone not worry?

Tuo Baxiao was about to explode.

Fortunately, at that moment, Wei Liao arrived with news: Doctor Zhang had come.

This "Zhang" referred to Zhang Yuan.

Two days prior, after the Liangzhou Army set out, Madam Cui had been deeply concerned about Jiang Congyan’s health. Shortly after their departure, she had sent word to Zhang Yuan, instructing him to follow.

But how could Zhang Yuan’s speed match that of an army? He fell way behind—until, luckily, he encountered the messenger Wei Liao had sent back and was swiftly escorted here.

Zhang Yuan was a legendary doctor, famed early in his career for his expertise in internal medicine. Seeing him, everyone relaxed a little.

"Doctor Zhang, please examine the young lady at once!" Si Zi, forgetting manners, pulled him straight into the room.

"Easy, easy."

Zhang Yuan caught his breath before taking Jiang Congyan’s wrist to check her pulse.

Si Zi held her breath, watching nervously.

Tuo Baxiao also shifted his gaze to Zhang Yuan’s face.

He took her pulse for what felt like forever. Zhang Yuan closed his eyes, his left hand stroking his beard.

His expression was unreadable—just... odd.

Unable to bear it any longer, Tuo Baxiao demanded sharply, "What’s wrong with her? Can you cure her or not?"

At this question, Zhang Yuan finally lifted his eyelids.

"The young lady’s condition… is complicated."

Tuo Baxiao's patience had long run out. At such a critical moment, Zhang Yuan was still being cryptic. His expression grew even colder, sharp as a blade. "I don’t care if it’s good or not, I just want you to cure her and wake her up."

Faced with the Prince of Mobei, who looked ready to kill at any moment, Zhang Yuan remained unafraid, unlike others. He continued, "The young lady has pushed her body past its limits with days of relentless travel, depleting her vital energy. That’s why she’s still out cold."

"Then hurry up and treat her!" Tuo Baxiao roared.

Everyone keeps saying the same damn thing. He didn’t want to hear any more excuses—he just wanted her to recover.

Zhang Yuan didn’t move. "But there’s also good news. The young lady has carried deep worries since childhood, holding onto a deep, gnawing fear in her heart. This weight on her heart has kept her closed off, making it difficult to restore her health. It’s been this way all along. But today, during my examination, I noticed this pent-up grief might finally be breaking free. If so, it would actually be a good thing."

Hearing this, Tuo Baxiao froze. It finally clicked. He had vaguely sensed she carried some hidden sorrow, a quiet sadness clinging to her, though he never knew the reason.

Zhang Yuan continued stroking his beard. "The young lady’s condition is indeed precarious now. It’s up to her own strength now. I can only use acupuncture to help clear the blockage."

"Then do it quickly," Tuo Baxiao urged.

Zhang Yuan glanced at him. "Using needles requires absolute focus. With Your Highness so worked up, perhaps it’s best if you step away for a moment."

Tuo Baxiao refused to move.

So Zhang Yuan didn’t move either.

The two locked in a silent battle of wills until, finally, Tuo Baxiao gave in. He stepped away from the bedside but didn’t leave the room, merely standing to the side.

Zhang Yuan retrieved silver needles from his medical kit, selected several, and carefully sterilized them. He instructed Si Zi to pull back Jiang Congyan’s blanket and loosen most of her clothing before swiftly and steadily inserting multiple needles into her chest.

Her breaths were shallow, her chest barely rising.

After finishing the acupuncture, Zhang Yuan checked her pulse once more. When the time was right, he withdrew the needles. By then, Jiang Congyan’s breathing seemed slightly smoother than before.

A glint flashed in Tuo Baxiao’s eyes.

The needles were just to balance her qi. Zhang Yuan then asked for the military physician’s prescription, studied it briefly, and rewrote a new formula, instructing his apprentice to prepare the medicine. The army had set off in haste, carrying only basic emergency herbs—nowhere near as thorough as his own supplies.

Noticing numerous abrasions on Jiang Congyan’s body, he asked Si Zi what ointment had been applied. Si Zi produced a powder, which Zhang Yuan sniffed and recognized as his eldest son Zhang Fu’s work. "This’ll work for now. Apply it twice daily. Once the wounds scab over, I’ll prepare a new one."

After handling these matters, he turned to Tuo Baxiao.

With his experienced eye, Zhang Yuan could immediately gauge the severity of his injuries. An ordinary man would have long since collapsed, yet Tuo Baxiao had held on through sheer stubbornness.

As a physician with years of practice, Zhang Yuan had come to deeply appreciate the marvel of human resilience. Some, burdened by sorrow, could succumb to a mere cold, while others, on the brink of death, clung to life by sheer determination and cheated death.

Thus, healing the body also meant healing the heart.

Zhang Yuan rose and approached Tuo Baxiao. "How about letting me patch you up too? Otherwise, if the young lady recovers but you meet the King of Hell, I’d have hell to pay explaining it to her."

The audacity of his words made the bystanders gape at his nerve, who trembled in fear of Tuo Baxiao. Only Zhang Yuan would dare speak so boldly.

Tuo Baxiao ignored him, only asking, "When will she wake up?"

Zhang Yuan shot back, "Let the girl sleep, for heaven’s sake! Honestly, Your Highness, you look like hell—get some sleep."

"I don’t—"

Before the words left his mouth, Zhang Yuan flicked his sleeve. A sharp medicinal smell hit him, and Tuo Baxiao went down like a felled tree.

Stubborn folks who won’t listen always require some special methods.

"Get someone in here," Zhang Yuan called out.

He instructed two apprentices to carry Tuo Baxiao to the adjacent room and first strip off all his armor and clothing. Only then did they notice a knot hanging around his neck, like a Chinese knot, drenched in blood.

Most ordinary people would wear it at their waist as an ornament, but wearing it around the neck suggested special significance.

Zhang Yuan caught sight of it and ordered his apprentices not to remove it, instead washing away the blood with warm water and drying it with a clean cloth.

Only after cleaning most of the blood and grime from Tuo Baxiao's body did Zhang Yuan begin treating his wounds.

There was hardly a patch of unmarred flesh on him—deep and shallow cuts from blades and arrows, gaping wounds, broken arrowheads embedded in the muscles of his arms and thighs, two wounds on his shoulders and back that reached the bone, and a long gash on his neck, a whisker away from his artery. Fortunately, Tuo Baxiao was a seasoned fighter, preventing enemies from piercing his vital organs or major arteries.

But he had lost a significant amount of blood. If these flesh wounds weren’t properly treated and became infected, they could still be life-threatening, not to mention he had endured six or seven days of this, running on fumes.

Over the years, Zhang Yuan had been studying the new medical theories proposed by Jiang Congyan, gaining deeper insights into human anatomy and microscopic structures. Combined with his continuous practice in the military, he had developed a systematic approach to treating various external injuries. His hands moved swiftly—extracting what needed to be removed, stitching what needed suturing, and applying medicine where necessary. By the time he finished bandaging, Tuo Baxiao was wrapped up like a mummy.

Zhang Yuan then took his pulse and prescribed medicine. Considering Tuo Baxiao's temperament, he doubled down on the sedatives.

Rest was the best medicine.

By the time all this was done, it was already midnight.

Though outwardly composed, Zhang Yuan was inwardly anxious, keeping watch over Jiang Congyan and frequently checking on both her and Tuo Baxiao's conditions.

Jiang Congyan's fever had subsided somewhat, but Tuo Baxiao was running a raging fever.

Despite having been given sedatives, Tuo Baxiao still struggled in the middle of the night, showing signs of waking. Zhang Yuan had no choice but to have another dose fed to him.

After a rough night, by dawn, both patients had finally stabilized.

Dead on his feet, Zhang Yuan went to check on the injuries of the others.

By the end of the battle, only a dozen or so Imperial Guards remained by Tuo Baxiao's side. Two of them were too far gone, while the rest had been stabilized by the military doctors, though their conditions remained precarious.

Another full day passed before Tuo Baxiao, forced to sleep for a full day and night, finally awoke.

With great effort, he forced his eyes open, his vision blurred. His thoughts were still foggy as he instinctively reached out beside him—only to find emptiness.

His stomach dropped. His eyes flew open, and he lurched upright, scanning the room. Indeed, no one was there, and he was no longer in the previous earthen hut.

He Zhou, who had been keeping watch, didn’t get a word out before Tuo Baxiao lurched from the bed and rushed into the inner room in search of someone. Only upon seeing Jiang Congyan still lying quietly on the bed did he feel like he could breathe again.

He sat by her bedside, taking her slender hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze, then brushed his fingers against her face—no longer feverish, her breathing smoother and stronger now.

Si Zi, who had been keeping vigil over Jiang Congyan, jumped at his sudden appearance but quickly moved aside once she regained her composure.

"Commander, you're awake. Would you like something to eat?"

Tuo Baxiao didn’t respond, as if he hadn’t heard at all. He simply sat by the bed, guarding Jiang Congyan, frozen in place.

Seeing that persuasion was futile, Si Zi could only back away quietly and leave.

Another night passed, and Jiang Congyan's vital signs had gradually stabilized—yet she still didn’t wake.

Tuo Baxiao could no longer sit still. He pinned Zhang Yuan down and demanded, "Is she going to be okay? When will she wake up?"

Zhang Yuan was also surprised. He took her pulse again—it was steadier than before.

"The young woman is out of danger. As for when she will wake up, it depends on her own choice."

"What do you mean by her own choice? Does she not want to wake up?"

Zhang Yuan just shook his head.

...

Jiang Congyan felt like she was stuck in a long dream. In the dream, she became a little girl in ancient times, living there for over a decade. Everything felt so real—like it had actually happened.

But then the scene suddenly changed. Before her eyes appeared a hospital room. Inside, there was another little girl, and a young couple sat by her bedside, saying something that made all three of them smile. The warmth of the scene made Jiang Congyan smile.

The next second, her expression changed. Wasn’t that little girl her? Why was she seeing this like an outsider?

Before she could figure it out, the scene changed again. The sudden beeping of machines and the arrival of doctors and nurses ruined the moment.

The little girl was rushed into surgery.

She survived.

But this was just one of many close calls. This happened over and over.

As she grew older, she barely ever left her hospital room. The couple appeared less and less often, and most of the time, she could only sit alone in her room, watching the grass outside her window, seeing birds fly free in the sky.

Until one day, she saw another little girl—a girl who looked just like her younger self. But she’d never been that pretty or healthy.

"Mom, Dad," the little girl called out.

"Yes?" they responded.

The teenage girl in the hallway froze as it hit her. After a long while, she wandered back to her room like a ghost.

Maybe this was better. Even if she were gone, her parents wouldn’t be alone. She tried to console herself, but tears kept falling.

She fainted again, making them come see her. After emergency treatment, she was sent back to her room, her bony, pale hands dotted with IVs, her eyes tightly shut.

"If we’d known she’d end up like this, we shouldn’t have had Yan Yan in the first place," the man couldn’t help but complain.

"The prenatal checkups already showed she had heart problems. Wasn’t it you who pushed for it, saying the Jiang family had money and even if there were minor issues, she could be treated?" The woman shot back.

"I said that, but didn’t you also say you couldn’t bear to give her up? It wasn’t just my decision. And I never expected her condition to worsen like this..."

They started fighting.

They didn’t notice the tears seeping from the corners of the girl’s eyes on the bed.

Jiang Congyan saw her past replay before her eyes, unsure of what meaning any of this held.

So, she must have died.

Was she dead now?

"Yan Yan."

A man’s voice suddenly emerged from the chaos of her world. The moment it sounded, all the people and scenes before her dissipated like scattered dust.

"Yan Yan."

The voice continued.

"Yan Yan."

Jiang Congyan slowly came to—it was Tuo Baxiao, his voice. He had been surrounded by Xiongnu forces, and she had led a rescue party to save him. He survived.

He survived.

Jiang Congyan desperately wanted to see him one more time, struggling to run toward the direction of the voice.

Seeing her eyelashes tremble incessantly, finally showing signs of waking, Tuo Baxiao kept calling to her.

Under his persistent calls, Jiang Congyan finally managed to lift her eyelids—heavy as lead—and saw the man’s blurred face.

"*Tuo Baxiao...*"