Chapter 2

Torchlight and shouts pursued them relentlessly. The deadly whistle of arrows splitting the air rang close at her ears. Su Qianqian was held so tightly in A-Qing’s arms that she could barely breathe. She felt only the steady, powerful thud of his heart beneath his chest, the wind howling past, and his low, beast-like breaths caught in his throat. The world seemed to turn upside down; every landscape blurred into streaks of colour rushing past her eyes. "A-Qing — stop! Ahead is — a cliff!" Su Qianqian cried out, sweat-soaked hair clinging to her forehead. A-Qing halted abruptly at the very edge. Loose stones tipped over the rim and tumbled down into endless darkness — falling, falling — with no echo to tell where they landed. No fear showed on his face — only that same earnest, childlike focus. As if the soldiers closing in behind and the abyss before them were nothing more than a strange new game. Within moments, their pursuers had reached the cliff edge and fanned out in a half-circle. Torchlight flared, illuminating grim faces and countless arrowheads glinting with cold steel. The creak of bows drawn to their full height set teeth on edge. There was nowhere left to retreat. At this dead end, A-Qing looked down at Su Qianqian — pale, terrified — and spoke with utter, unshakable certainty. "Fear not. **I shall protect my wife.**" Before the words had faded — and just as the bowstrings were loosed — he leaped, carrying her in his arms. "AAAAHH —!" The sensation of falling seized Su Qianqian’s heart instantly. She screamed — only to have the sound torn away by the rushing wind. The world spun wildly; her heart felt as though it would burst from her chest. Nothing remained but the shriek of the gale — and absolute, overwhelming terror. This was it. She was going to die here… Then dark shapes rushed upward — **trees!** A-Qing kept one arm locked firm around her waist. With the other, he shifted their angle with impossible strength — instinctively using the foliage to slow their descent. **CRACK!** Branches snapped beneath their weight! The fall slowed — but A-Qing groaned low in his throat. Mid-fall, he twisted his body — turning so that **he landed on his back**, shielding her completely — taking every blow upon himself. **THUD —!** A heavy, bone-jarring impact. Su Qianqian rolled aside, winded — every internal organ seemed to shift. Her vision swam dark. "A-Qing!" She scrambled up. He lay pale as death, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth — yet his eyes followed her every movement. "Wife…" His voice came faint, barely a breath. By now, the overcast sky had turned pitch black. Raindrops — huge and heavy — smashed down without warning, bursting into a torrential downpour. Su Qianqian wiped rain and blood from her face. She gritted her teeth and gripped his arm. "A-Qing, stay with me. Save your strength. We must find shelter from the rain!" Blinded by the storm, she half-carried, half-dragged him toward a shadowed indentation in the rock face half-hidden by vines. Beyond it lay a small natural cave — barely large enough to keep a few people dry. Her heart lifted. Summoning her last strength, she settled him in the driest spot deep inside. They were both soaked through. She gathered dry twigs and dead leaves — and with what she remembered of wilderness survival, managed to kindle a fire. Seeing him slipping toward unconsciousness, Su Qianqian forced herself to stay calm and examine his injuries. Beyond superficial scrapes and bruises, his chest and back were mottled with massive dark bruises — wincing even in stupor when touched. Worst of all was his back — torn and raw, caked with grit and sand. The flesh felt hot, sticky — and disturbingly uneven beneath her fingers where bone had nearly broken. She dared not look too closely. With only what she had, she did what she could — tore strips from her own cleaner undergarment and bound the worst wounds tight to stop the bleeding. Scattered across his skin were also many old scars — deep, pale, and long healed. Even his wrists bore the marks of heavy chains. Whatever this man’s past — it had been full of suffering. His skin burned fever-hot; his lips cracked and parched. Infection from his wounds — compounded by internal injury — had brought on a raging fever. Without medicine or shelter — this fever could very easily kill him. Su Qianqian sat by him, listening to the storm howl outside and his ragged, uneven breathing. Her heart sank. No medicine. No food. Would he… simply die here? The thought sent a shudder through her. **No. Never.** He had taken every blow to save her. Without him, she would already be pierced with arrows or shattered on the rocks below. Her life — was his gift. She had to find fresh water and herbs that could cool fever and stop bleeding. Outside, the deluge had softened into a steady drizzle. She fed the fire, looked long and hard at the unconscious man — then stepped out into the mist and gathering dark. --- # Chapter 2: The Cliff — Part 2 She did not know — that the moment she turned and left — the man on the cave floor stirred. His lashes fluttered violently. Fighting through a fog of fever, he pried his eyes open just a crack. His blurry gaze caught only one thing — her figure, walking away without hesitation into the dark. Just as I feared… she was lying all along… She is leaving me… The thought faded into darkness — carrying a hurt he could not name. --- Time passed. Su Qianqian returned — looking far worse than when she left. Her face and hands were crisscrossed with fresh scratches and thorn pricks. Her robes were mud-splattered, hair wild and loose. Yet carefully held within large leaves cupped in her arms was clean water. In her other hand — a bundle of fever-cooling, wound-healing herbs she had managed to identify. And a few tiny, withered wild fruits found by luck. She crushed the herbs between stones, squeezed out their juice, mixed it with water — and fed it, drop by careful drop, between his cracked lips. Most spilled — she wiped it away patiently — and tried again. Then she spread the herb-poultice gently across the raw wounds on his back. When all was done, she hung her soaked outer garments by the fire to dry. Shivering in only thin underclothes, she curled up beside him. Firelight danced across her face — her mind racing. Should she tell him the truth when he wakes? But then — she remembered him in the dungeon — gentle, strangely innocent — yet capable of snapping a neck as easily as breaking a twig. A chill ran through her. If he learns it was all a lie… will he turn that terrible strength upon her too? She recalled the guards whispering in the dungeon — **poisoned… mind damaged…** Perhaps — if she takes him to a doctor — if the poison is cured — he will recover? Once he is well and clear-headed, surely he will understand: there was no choice but to flee. And she saved him. She tended him. Surely — that kindness — must outweigh the lie she began with. Exhaustion and worry wore her down. Her eyelids felt heavy as lead. Yet she refused to sleep. The cave was deathly quiet — save for the occasional crackle of burning twigs. Mechanically — she rewiped his forehead, checked his temperature, leaned close again and again — just to hear that faint, fragile breath. Only when pale light touched the sky did the heat in his forehead finally, slowly, begin to break. Su Qianqian’s will finally snapped — and she slumped against the stone wall — and fell fast asleep. --- A-Qing woke slowly — fighting through waves of pain and burning thirst. Sensation returned before sight — dull throbbing throughout every limb, sharper agony across his back. Then — warmth. Beneath him lay a thick, soft bed of dry leaves she had gathered. Beside him — the steady heat of the fire — and the soft, reassuring sound of someone breathing. Slowly — painfully — he turned his head. Every movement pulled at his back; spots danced before his eyes. Firelight cast shadows across the cave wall — and illuminated Su Qianqian’s face — worn thin with exhaustion. She slept curled small and tight. Dirt streaked her cheek. Her eyes — usually bright — were closed in weariness. Damp hair clung to her temples. In her loosely closed hand — a half-damp cloth. Beside her — laid out neatly — washed wild berries and the remaining wound-poultice. **It is… my wife.** **She did not leave me!** Something swelled in his chest — overwhelming, sweet, and aching all at once. He could not name it — only that it felt warm, soft, and impossibly sweet — exactly like… that pine-seed candy she had given him in the dungeon. He stared at her — transfixed. His gaze fell finally upon her hand resting loosely by her side. Drawn by something he could not see — he reached out slowly — his own hand scarred and bruised. Pain flared with every movement — yet he did not notice. First — his fingertips brushed hers — light, tentative — feeling the warmth, the reality of her. Then — carefully — reverently — he folded his large, cold hand around hers. He held it — as if clinging to the only warmth and safety he had ever known. --- Dawn broke pale grey. Su Qianqian woke to the distant sound of birdsong. She realized instantly — her hand was being held. She looked down — and saw A-Qing. His brow was furrowed — as if he slept in torment — yet his hand held hers — firm, unyielding. She did not linger. She pressed her palm to his forehead — **the fever had worsened.** They must get him down the mountain — to help — and quickly. She looked anxiously toward the cave mouth — planning their route, weighing the dangers. And then — "**Who are you two?!**" A rough, hoarse — and distinctly unfriendly — male voice exploded from the cave entrance!