TSMITB Chapter11

Shen Que closed the door, rummaged through his luggage bag and took out his well preserved phone, then pressed the screen through the transparent waterproof bag to light it up.

As he had anticipated, there was no signal reception here.

With a creak, a beam of light streamed in through the crack of the door and hit the floor, illuminating a bright triangular area.

Sheng Qixiao stood by the door, holding a basin of hot water while silently looking at Shen Que.

Shen Que turned off the screen the instant the door opened, shoved the phone under the blanket, adjusted his expression and then looked back.

No one spoke as the wind stirred the branches outside the window and they tapped against the frame, making faint noises.

Sheng Qixiao walked in steadily before placing the wooden basin by Shen Que’s feet, stood up, and stared down at Shen Que. The warm yellow candlelight behind him was cut off, leaving Shen Que engulfed in a vast shadow where his expression could not be seen, and he shifted slightly in discomfort.

“What’s wrong?” Faint purplish flames subtly flickered in Sheng Qixiao’s eyes.

Shen Que shook his head, stared at the wooden basin on the floor, and asked him, “What is this for?”

Sheng Qixiao earnestly explained, “I applied medicine when we returned. Now, let’s wash it off and change the dressing.”

Shen Que said nothing further, bent his leg, and fumbled as he worked to undo the cloth strips that Sheng Qixiao had wrapped so carefully.

Sheng Qixiao shifted one step to the side, his shadow moving with him, and his silver ornaments chimed softly twice before settling into silence along with their owner. Light seeped through the gaps, and seeing that Sheng Qixiao had no intention of helping, Shen Que quietly let out a breath of relief.

Utilizing the dim light, Shen Que noticed that his ankle, which was originally severely swollen, had actually healed a lot. The moisture in the initially sticky salve on the cloth strips had been completely absorbed, leaving only dry powder.

The water temperature was quite high, steaming with white vapor. Shen Que wanted to lift his foot after soaking for only a second, but Sheng Qixiao pressed it back down.

The next moment, a bowl of black, murky medicinal soup, still steaming, was brought right to Shen Que’s mouth.

Sheng Qixiao was slightly bent over with one hand pressing Shen Que’s leg and the other holding the medicinal bowl, patiently explaining with a gentle expression, “It’s medicine to treat the leg injury.”

Shen Que raised his eyes to look at him, then turned his head away, not really wanting to drink it.

Reason told Shen Que that at this moment, he shouldn’t treat the person in front of him with such an attitude, yet deep down, he truly felt it didn’t matter, as if he was certain that Sheng Qixiao wouldn’t hold it against him.

However, the bowl did not retreat at all; instead, it moved closer, and the rim of the bowl, warmed by the steam, rested against Shen Que’s lips.

Sheng Qixiao’s gaze remained on his face, his presence was managed just right, allowing Shen Que to easily notice it without feeling offended.

“Are you afraid it might be poisonous?” Sheng Qixiao spoke in a very low voice, soft in tone and threaded with the faint sound of his breath.

Yes.

Shen Que shook his head, his palm braced on the bed as half his fingers dug into the blanket and rubbed it, “I’m just a little afraid of bitterness.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not bitter.”

Shen Que slightly raised his chin, and the warm liquid, with Sheng Qixiao’s lifting motion, poured into Shen Que’s mouth, sliding down his throat with little hesitation.

The thick, slender, raven-feather-like eyelashes fluttered; it seemed he genuinely hadn’t tasted bitterness.

As he breathed, the wind outside the window rose fiercely, muffled thunder rumbled, and dense raindrops struck the windowsill, dripping close to Shen Que’s ear.

“It’s raining.” Shen Que murmured, his gaze unfocused as it followed the figure before him.

That person pressed him gently into the bedding, while a slightly cool palm covering his eyes. “You’re just tired.”

Sheng Qixiao’s voice was gentle, the blanket beneath Shen Que soft, and the lips that pressed against his cheek with warm, humid breath were soft as well.

The small braid tied with silver thread hangs down in front of his eyes, swaying and turning in circles. Shen Que slowly closed his eyes, his consciousness completely sinking into chaos.

In his dream, Shen Que found himself in a misty forest, where blue-violet phosphorescence flickered erratically, and dense vegetation grew wildly. In the white mist of the dark night, a figure appeared faintly, holding a dim yellow lamp, lips parting and closing as they softly called his name.

“Shen Que.”

Sound after sound, like smooth pebbles dropping into the lake of his consciousness.

The pebbles grew bigger and denser, splashing water across the lake, shaking the earth and mountains, while the lake water and white mist followed the cracks in the ground and tumbled downward.

Shen Que jolted awake, sitting up in bed with eyes wide open.

Darkness stretched before him, and he had no sense of how much time had passed. Shen Que rubbed his temples and lifted the blanket; his injured right leg had been re-dressed.

His memory stopped at the second after drinking that bowl of medicine; he didn’t even know when Sheng Qixiao had changed his dressing, bandaged him up, and left the room.

Shen Que gave up after only two seconds of thought, assuming he was simply too tired and had blacked out.

At this moment, the noise outside the door finally reached his ears.

Shen Que perked up his ears and listened carefully for a moment, then quietly pulled the door open and peeked out. The door opposite was ajar, letting out a weak light. Through the crack, Shen Que saw Gang Zi and a few others randomly curled up on the bed and the floor, all without exception drenched in sweat and groaning painfully.

“What’s going on?” Shen Que stepped forward quickly and helped Old Qiu, the one closest to him, up to sit against the wall.

Old Qiu leaned his head back against the wall, gritting his teeth and panting quietly. “Something might have gotten into my stomach…”

Shen Que’s first reaction was to suspect that there was a problem with the dinner Sheng Qixiao had prepared, but he quickly dismissed the idea, as he and Sheng Qixiao had also eaten it.

Gang Zi had been wailing for a long time but didn’t receive Shen Que’s concern, so he rolled on the floor, and was unwilling to concede while gnashing his teeth and rubbing his abdomen, looking as if he wished to cut open his stomach.

Shen Que saw that he still had plenty of strength and didn’t even glance at him, stepping over to Ah Chao, who lay completely still on the bed. Since he arrived, Ah Chao hadn’t made a single sound.

Fortunately, his chest was still rising and falling; he must have just fainted.

Shen Que let out a quiet sigh of relief, his mind racing. He was about to get up and search his personal luggage for medication to ease the symptoms.

The next second.

“Did you guys eat the things from that river?”

A voice interjected, carrying a sense of certainty along with the question.

It was Sheng Qixiao.

Shen Que felt reprieved; he quickly turned around, only to freeze on the spot before he could even speak—Sheng Qixiao was standing straight in the doorway, with a blackness close to nothingness behind him, his tall, slender figure suspended between light and dark, nearly overlapping with the shadow in his dream.

The mist from the dream spread out from behind him. The ripples on the lake surface paused for a moment, immediately followed by larger splashes. Shen Que opened his mouth, but in the end, he only futilely uttered zero words, watching helplessly as Sheng Qixiao walked closer and closer, unsure how to react.

Sheng Qixiao slowly approached and squatted down, his gaze following Shen Que’s somewhat stunned eyes down to his jaw, where there was an extremely shallow red mark, which must have been bitten by something.

“Did they, perhaps, eat things from the river?” Sheng Qixiao asked again, in a good-natured manner.

Shen Que forced himself to snap back to reality and quickly nodded, “They ate fish from the river.”

“Things from the river cannot be eaten; they’re very bad.” Sheng Qixiao slightly furrowed his brow before sweeping his gaze over the few people groaning in pain, his tone carrying a subtle, imperceptible sense of helplessness.

Shen Que immediately thought of the countless white bones and corpses at the bottom of the river. The fish in the river must have been fed by this flesh and blood, so wouldn’t they have indirectly eaten human flesh?

Daring not to think further, he cast a pleading look at Sheng Qixiao. “Qixiao, do you have a way to help us?”

“Us?” Sheng Qixiao was puzzled and slowly blinked. “Do you have a stomachache too?”

Shen Que’s brow moved imperceptibly. “It’s the three of them. Do you have a solution?”

Sheng Qixiao lightly swept his gaze over his face. He stood up and smoothed out the slightly wrinkled hem of his clothes without answering immediately, his expression quite serious.

“It’s not very serious; I can solve it, but there’s no medicine at home, so I can only go look for some after daybreak. Now, I can, temporarily control it.”

Shen Que got up and grabbed his hand. “I knew you’d have a solution!”

The corners of Sheng Qixiao’s mouth pleasantly curled up by two pixels, and his thumb naturally rested on the back of Shen Que’s hand, slowly rubbing it. He lowered his eyes to meet Shen Que’s eyes, which were full of hope and gratitude, and asked him, “If I were injured, would you also find someone to help?”

“Of course.”

“Is it also, ‘us’?”

Shen Que nodded again without the slightest hesitation. He didn’t even have the time to ponder the purpose of Sheng Qixiao asking these meaningless questions.

Having received the desired answer, Sheng Qixiao turned and went out the door before returning quickly with a small basket of medicinal herbs and tools.

Shen Que didn’t understand anything and followed instructions the whole time. Sheng Qixiao handed the silver mortar to Shen Que, indicating that all he needed to do was wait for him to measure the herbs, put them in batches, and then pound them vigorously; no skill was required.

Sheng Qixiao quickly ground the medicinal herbs into powder and portioned them into bowls. Shen Que instinctively picked up the ceramic kettle and poured water into each bowl in turn. All the while he felt that something was not quite right. After observing carefully for a long time, he looked up. “Is this cold water?”

Sheng Qixiao didn’t feel there was any issue and simply gave a faint ‘en.’

“Will taking medicine with cold water affect its efficacy?”

“It will.” Sheng Qixiao raised his eyes and gave him a slightly surprised look, but the movement of his hands didn’t stop as he silently stirred the medicinal powder to mix it with the water.

“Then…” Why not use hot water?

Shen Que wrestled with the thought but finally didn’t ask. Sheng Qixiao must have his reasons for doing this. Shen Que learned to comfort himself and understand others for the first time.

Sheng Qixiao held up the medicinal bowl and then handed it to Old Qiu. Not caring if he could hold it steadily or not at all, he quickly released his hand and turned back to earnestly explain the rest of Shen Que’s unspoken question: “There was no extra hot water at home; I used it for your foot soak last night.”

Shen Que: “…Thank you.”

Old Qiu’s action of drinking the medicine paused; he felt his life was bitterer than the medicine.

Gang Zi did not care in the slightest, finished it on his own in two or three gulps, and even spared a moment to pat Old Qiu on the shoulder and gently comfort him. “Cold water is good. If it were steaming hot, you wouldn’t even know whose foot-soaking water it was.”

Shen Que stretched his fingers and smiled at him, “If you want to drink it next time, I’ll save some for you.”

Sheng Qixiao listened in silence, dragged the still-unconscious Ah Chao to the bedside, pried open his tightly clenched teeth with the rim of the bowl, and poured all the medicine into him.

By the time they finished tidying up and came out, the darkest hour before dawn had already passed. The door to the second-floor hall was wide open. The morning breeze carried a trace of coolness as it brushed past them. Shen Que stood by the railing, his gaze stretching toward the endless mountains and wilderness.

Sheng Qixiao quietly stood beside him with a grayish-blue cloak draped over his arm, uncommonly without any pattern.

“Is this for me?” Shen Que tilted his head slightly and asked, his gaze settling on Sheng Qixiao’s shoulder and tracing upward along a few loose strands of hair to the corner of his eye.

Sheng Qixiao was not surprised by Shen Que’s directness and asked back, “Do you, need it?”

“Thank you.” Shen Que let out a light laugh, took the cloak, shook it out, and leaned closer to Sheng Qixiao, deliberately ignoring Sheng Qixiao’s suddenly tensed body before covering both of them within the layer of the neither-thick-nor-thin grayish-blue fabric.

The two were extremely close. Sheng Qixiao froze completely as the damp morning air seemed to warm with the flush at his ear tips and condense into tiny droplets.

“Sheng Qixiao.” Shen Que’s voice drifted like a soft cloud. “Thank you.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“No one stipulated that it can only be said once.”