Perhaps during those years on Listening Goose Peak, Feng Rong had also wanted to see Wen Lanxin, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to bow her head.
And since Wen Lanxin had left, she didn’t dare show her face without an invitation.
“One on Listening Goose Peak, the other below Yellow Sand Cliff.” Sang Chencao turned her head slightly, her voice slow. “They longed for each other, yet never met. Well, it’s fine now. They can meet in the underworld.”
It sounded like mockery, but it wasn’t funny at all. Feng Yun’ai only felt a sense of profound melancholy.
Sang Chencao continued stirring the decoction with indifference. “In the blood-letter, she only left the reasons why she studied poison and raised Medicinal Humans. As for the rest… half of it she let slip unintentionally in the past, and the other half? I polished it up myself.”
Feng Yun’ai blinked.
Sang Chencao suddenly smiled. Her voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper that sounded strangely sincere. “The Medicinal Humans she raised… Feng Rong won’t get to enjoy even a drop of them. I wonder who’s getting the bargain now? Do you know, Xiuxiu?”
It sounded incredibly affectionate. But even if she could speak, Feng Yun’ai wouldn’t have known how to answer.
Who else shared a constitution similar to Feng Rong’s and had stubbornly practiced the same sword style? Who else but her?
But she didn’t want Sang Chencao to harm herself in the slightest. Medicinal Humans… rumors said their entire bodies were treasures. Even a single strand of hair could be used as medicine. To save her, Sang Chencao would have to sacrifice her own flesh and blood.
Sang Chencao didn’t provide an answer either. She just let out a sudden, inexplicable laugh, then poured the brewed medicine into a bowl.
Feng Yun’ai lay motionless. She saw the slender silhouette approaching through her blurred vision. The medicinal scent grew stronger, and then she felt a slight heat against her lips—the edge of a spoon held to her mouth.
She couldn’t even move her jaw, let alone swallow. She could only stare.
Sang Chencao laughed. “Why are you glaring at me, Xiuxiu? Are you afraid I’m poisoning you? I’m feeding you medicine. A few more days of this and every inch of your skin and flesh will be healed. You won’t be in pain anymore.”
But Feng Yun’ai couldn’t open her mouth. Nor did she think the bowl contained poison.
She was currently helpless; if Sang Chencao truly wanted her dead, there was no need for such elaborate measures.
Sang Chencao clicked her tongue twice and pulled the spoon away. She leaned down. “During the first seven days when you were unconscious, feeding you was such a chore. Now that you’re awake, you should cooperate.”
How am I supposed to cooperate? Feng Yun’ai asked mentally.
Sang Chencao set the bowl aside. To Feng Yun’ai’s surprise, she reached out and pinched her chin, using her fingers to pry her teeth apart. Her fingertip pressed lightly against Feng Yun’ai’s tongue.
Though the rest of her body was numb, her tongue was different. The pressure seemed to travel down her throat and up to the crown of her head, sending a slight shiver through her.
She trembled ever so slightly. Her chest, limbs, fingers, and toes moved in unison, as if a clear spring were washing over her, penetrating every pore.
Sang Chencao kept her finger pressed against Feng Yun’ai’s tongue. As she leaned closer, her face appeared blurred yet strangely solemn.
The playful smile was gone. In an instant, she had transformed into a dignified physician sitting in a clinic.
Feng Yun’ai was forced to keep her mouth open. Perhaps because the other woman had suddenly become so serious, she felt a wave of bashful helplessness.
She became like the grass swaying during an earthquake, a leaf drifting as a bird took flight, the ripples on a disturbed lake, or silver bells chiming in the wind.
Her paralyzed body felt momentarily alive. Her cheeks grew hot, but it wasn’t the heat of a burn.
It was a gentle warmth, emerging slowly from beneath the skin. It felt soft and comforting, seemingly harmless, yet it threw her heart into utter chaos.
Sang Chencao leaned over, using her free hand to scoop a spoonful of medicine. “Xiuxiu, I’m going to feed you now.”
Feng Yun’ai stared at her, trying to focus her mind so her blurry vision would clear.
She wondered if Sang Chencao had been burned by the fires when she went back to save her.
But she still couldn’t see clearly. That blurred shape moved closer, her hot breath fanning across Feng Yun’ai’s face, and then… and then…
Sang Chencao took the medicine into her own mouth and pressed her lips against Feng Yun’ai’s.
That soft, burning breath was like a river, flowing straight to the tip of her heart.
This was surely magma, melting her numb and lonely heart along with it.
Feng Yun’ai froze.
Previously, in the water, she had been lost in a haze of anxiety. Not only had she been unable to see or hear, but her entire body had been in agony. Her consciousness had been fading when the air was shared with her.
Now, this contact vividly filled in the gaps of that memory.
Back then, Sang Chencao had been out of options and forced to share her breath.
Now was different. Now, Sang Chencao had pried her mouth open, yet she still chose such an intimate, lingering way to feed her.
Why?
Likely… likely because Sang Chencao wanted to do it, so she did.
Feng Yun’ai nearly choked. It wasn’t until Sang Chencao withdrew her finger that she managed to recover her wits and swallow.
Sang Chencao gave a soft laugh. “Good girl, Xiuxiu.”
Feng Yun’ai felt a strange sensation. This person had called her ugly before, yet she could still press so close. Feng Yun’ai felt as if her entire body were soaking in hot water; her limbs, which had lacked sensation, were now soft and yielding.
“You have to take your medicine properly to get better quickly.” Sang Chencao took another sip and leaned down to deliver it.
Feng Yun’ai’s mouth remained open, and she dazedly took another mouthful.
This time, she faintly tasted a hint of iron—the metallic tang of blood—amidst the herbs. She didn’t dare think too much about it.
“The Great Sects should be reaching the outskirts of the Western Regions in a few days,” Sang Chencao said nonchalantly. “The Guiyuan Sect has yet to reveal its true face. I wonder if they’ll need a helping hand from us.”
Feng Yun’ai said nothing. In her current state, what help could she possibly provide?
Sang Chencao shifted into a smile, stroking Feng Yun’ai’s scarred face. “Soon. The wounds have already scabbed over. In a few more days, you’ll be fully recovered.”
That thought once again drifted to the forefront of Feng Yun’ai’s mind. There were very few divine medicines in this world that could flesh out bones and bring back the dead. There was likely only one.
“When that time comes, you will be able to fully inherit Feng Rong’s mantle and walk the path she once trod.” Sang Chencao leaned close and whispered, “Are you happy, Xiuxiu?”
