Chapter 3

Su Qianqian froze — her blood seemed to turn to ice in an instant. She snapped her head up and saw, standing in the shadow of parted vines at the cave mouth, a tall broad-shouldered figure gripping a woodcutter’s knife. He blocked the entrance, studying the dishevelled pair within with deep suspicion and vigilance. Then the vines were swept aside by a rough calloused hand — revealing a sturdy middle-aged man with weather-beaten skin and lines etched by wind and sun. He wore coarse cloth garments beneath a simple fur vest, and held a well-worn gleaming blade. His eyes were sharp as a hawk’s — scanning them back and forth with the instinctive alertness of a mountain hunter. "Who are you two? And what are you doing here?" His voice was rough, hoarse, and thick with the local accent. Su Qianqian’s heart raced — yet she kept her composure. In an instant her eyes welled with tears, her voice trembling with lingering fright: "Sir… we mean no harm. My husband and I came up the mountain for a stroll… and lost our way. We fell from the cliff by accident… and he was grievously hurt protecting me. When the storm broke yesterday, we had nowhere else — so we took shelter here…" She gestured toward the unconscious, battered A-Qing — her expression sorrowful enough to stir pity. The man frowned, stepped inside to examine A-Qing’s injuries closely, then glanced at the crushed herbs and the fire. His wariness softened a little. "My name is Liu — I hunt these mountains. This cave is where I rest. Your husband’s hurt bad. Needs a doctor — and quick." Su Qianqian’s face lit with hope. "Hunter Liu — do you know the way down? Is there a town or clinic nearby?" Learning that he was heading to the county seat that very morning to sell furs and goods, she pressed the only silver hairpin she had into his hand. "Hunter Liu — I beg you — carry us to town so we may find a physician. This pin is little enough — but please accept it as fare and gratitude. Please — help us!" Hunter Liu glanced at the simple pin, then at pale, breathless A-Qing, then at Su Qianqian — face streaked with mud and blood yet eyes pleading earnestly. He nodded. "Lives come first. I’ll take you. Here — take these." He pulled two hard coarse cakes from his pack and handed them over. Su Qianqian thanked him profusely — a heavy weight finally lifting from her chest. The cart rattled slowly down the rugged mountain path. Su Qianqian rested A-Qing’s head gently upon her lap, doing her best to shield him from every jolt. Since waking, he had not taken his eyes off her — quiet, obedient, watchful. She carefully broke the cakes into small pieces, softened them in water, and fed them one by one between his cracked lips. Seeing him eat a few mouthfuls brought her some relief — only then did she sip water and nibble her own small portion slowly. The county town was modest yet livelier than she had expected. Hunter Liu drove to a quiet lane and halted before a small clinic with weathered yellowed signboard: **"Returning Spring Hall."** "Small place, but Old Doctor Chen’s skill is second to none," he said, giving a thumbs-up. "And fair-priced. There’s a grand new clinic down the lane — but we country folk trust Old Chen." Su Qianqian thanked him again. Together they helped A-Qing inside. The air smelled of herbs. An elderly man with white hair and beard stood by the table — he looked up, saw A-Qing, and moved at once. "Quick — help him onto this bed!" Once settled, A-Qing clung to her hand — gripping it tight, as a child clings to its protector. Su Qianqian sat beside him, met the doctor’s gaze, and spoke plainly — saying nothing of dungeons or pursuit, only that they had fallen from a cliff. The doctor felt his pulse, examined his wounds thoroughly — especially back and chest — his brow furrowing deeper with every moment. At last he drew back and spoke gravely. "Miss — this husband of yours…?" Su Qianqian flushed slightly and nodded. "His external wounds are grave — yet you tended them well. Bones and organs are not fatally injured — rest will heal them. But the true trouble lies here." He tapped his temple. "His mind is clouded. His pulse is tangled and sluggish — the mark of a rare poison: **'Carefree Forgetfulness.'** It erodes the mind — reduces a man to innocence. I can cure it — yet the chief ingredients, **'Dragon’s Blood Vine'** and **'Ice Mountain Lotus Seed,'** are priceless. Add to that old wounds layered upon old wounds — and a cracked rib — the cost will be great." He glanced at A-Qing still clutching her hand, then at Su Qianqian — travel-stained, penniless, nothing of value upon her. He had already lowered the estimate as far as conscience allowed. "Miss — antidote, treatment, recovery… all told — medicine and fees together — **one hundred and fifty taels of silver.**" "Doctor… will his memory return?" Su Qianqian asked quickly. The doctor stroked his beard and shook his head. "Memory loss has many causes. His pulse suggests blood stasis clogs the mind — perhaps from injury. Medicine may help — but whether he recovers — and when… depends on fate and time." Su Qianqian looked him straight in the eye — clear, steady, resolute. "Treat him. Use the best medicines. I do not have the silver now — but I swear — before dinner — I will bring every coin. Please — treat his wounds first. Write the prescription." At that, a young apprentice pounding herbs nearby snorted aloud. "You say so? Look at you… you can barely keep yourself fed! Once you see the bill, you’ll leave him behind and vanish! We’d be left with nothing! What security do you offer?" Su Qianqian possessed nothing of value. She drew a breath, turned to the elderly doctor — eyes glistening with sudden tears — voice sincere and trembling. "Doctor — truth be told — we were newlyweds traveling together… when we were set upon by villains. Everything was stolen. He was poisoned and wounded protecting me… I am but a weak woman — yet I know honour. I can cook and work — I will earn every coin I owe. We grew up together… our bond is deep. Would I abandon him now that he is hurt and costly to care for?" She squeezed A-Qing’s hand in return — eyes bright with tears. "Where he lies — there lies my heart. I have nowhere to run to. I beg you — trust me just this once!" --- # Chapter 3: The Medical Bill — Part 2 She was beautiful even in ruin — like a delicate flower battered by rain — ragged robes, glistening tears, holding his hand, every word spoken from the heart. "I beg you, Doctor! He bears these wounds because of me! If anything befell him — I would not live on!" Her plea was so earnest, her face so touched by pure devotion — that even the doctor was moved. He had seen a lifetime of suffering — yet the desperate devotion in her eyes struck him deep — as though this man were her whole world — and without him, life meant nothing. "Very well." The doctor sighed and waved the grumbling apprentice away. "Save him first. The money… before dinner." The apprentice dared not disobey — and turned away resentfully to fetch the medicines. The doctor personally applied acupuncture needles to steady A-Qing’s chaotic pulse. Then came the wound-washing — strong herbal liquor poured across the raw flesh of his back — searing pain that shot through every limb like lightning! "Uhh…!" A-Qing bit down hard — veins bulging on his forehead — sweat pouring down. He opened his eyes — blurred, unfocused — and looked straight at Su Qianqian standing by his bedside. His lips trembled — and a soft, tearful, plaintive cry escaped — small, clinging, helpless: "Wife… it hurts…" Su Qianqian’s heart gave a sudden lurch. Good heavens — this helplessness, this seeking comfort — was almost as skilled as her own performance earlier! Perhaps even better. Yet his voice was so weak — so achingly vulnerable — that it tugged straight at her heart. She leaned down instinctively — speaking in the softest, most gentle tone she had ever used. "A-Qing — be brave. Endure it just a little longer. Once the medicine is on — the wound will not fester. When you are well again — I will buy you sweet osmanthus cakes. Preserved fruits. Every delicious thing you can imagine. All right?" Whether her words soothed him — or the promise of good food possessed magic — his tension eased slightly. Still trembling in agony, he bit his lip and bore it in silence. Only his eyes remained fixed upon hers — wide, wet, trusting — holding nothing back. When the wound was dressed and bound, Su Qianqian fetched warm water to wash the blood and dirt from his face. As the cloth wiped clean his skin — revealing inch by inch what lay beneath — a face of breathtaking, devastating beauty emerged before her eyes. High cheekbones, a straight noble nose — features carved with icy precision — yet framed by long dark lashes and phoenix eyes that held a haunting warmth. His skin was pale as snow — lips colourless — now stained crimson where he had bitten through them in silence. It was a dangerous, almost unearthly beauty. Frailty and pallor did not diminish it — they lent him a heartbreaking air of fragility — like a statue carved from jade — making one long to cherish him… or perhaps… to ruin him completely. Su Qianqian stopped breathing for a heartbeat. Her hand hovered motionless in mid-air. The man she had carried down from a cliff… was impossibly beautiful. A-Qing seemed to sense her reaction. He tilted his head — and brushed his cheek softly against her hand — like a cat seeking affection. His eyes — clear, innocent, questioning — searched hers. "Wife… why do you look at me so?" Su Qianqian snapped back to reality — her face burning hot. She pulled her hand away quickly, gaze darting everywhere but at him. "N-nothing! There was dirt… I was wiping it away!" She scolded herself inwardly — really! Now of all times to be struck dumb by good looks! Once all was in order — the crushing weight of the bill returned. She smoothed her clothes, turned to the doctor and repeated her promise — then looked back at A-Qing watching her anxiously. "A-Qing — rest here. I shall return shortly." She had barely turned to leave — when her wrist was seized in an iron grip. Cold fingers clamped tight — strong enough to crush bone. Su Qianqian spun around in shock — and met those same wide, innocent, fearful eyes. Yet deep within their clarity — swirled something dark — a strange, obsessive possessiveness she could not understand. He looked at her — and spoke slowly, distinctly, each word heavy with dread. "Wife… **are you leaving me?**"