Chapter 71: A Sincerity Beyond Medicine Part 2

The newly grown flesh was incredibly delicate and sensitive, thin as a cicada’s wing. Any touch, no matter how light, easily seeped into her depths, leaving a heavy stroke upon her heart.

She had never been so conflicted. She couldn’t tell if this was a pleasure or a slow execution.

After a long while, Sang Chencao looked up, a smile playing on her lips. “Xiuxiu, you really are going to make a full recovery. I never imagined this medicine would truly have the miraculous power to knit flesh back onto bone.”

Feng Yun’ai’s throat tightened. She didn’t like hearing Sang Chencao refer to herself as “medicine.” She was clearly a living, breathing person.

Sang Chencao slowly tidied the collar she had disturbed, saying nonchalantly, “Poor Wen Lanxin. She spent so much effort raising a Medicinal Human, yet she never got to witness the ‘divine power’ of her creation.”

“You… are yourself.” Feng Yun’ai struggled to speak. Fortunately, her pronunciation was much clearer than before, sparing her another embarrassment.

Sang Chencao arched an eyebrow and stared at Feng Yun’ai for a long time. Eventually, she let out a scoffing laugh. “Mhm. I am myself.”

The slight furrow in Feng Yun’ai’s brow finally smoothed out.

“Looking at it this way, Feng Rong actually raised you quite well,” Sang Chencao admitted, a rare acknowledgment of Feng Rong’s merits.

Feng Yun’ai remained silent, sensing there was more to the woman’s words.

Sure enough, Sang Chencao added smugly, “But surely not as well as I could. What I can teach you is bound to be far more than what Feng Rong ever could.”

Feng Yun’ai pursed her lips slightly, playing the mute while glaring at her.

Sang Chencao busied herself scooping water, retrieving the few remaining herbs from the basket at her side, and pouring out some Eye-coloring drops from a porcelain vial. “We can leave tomorrow,” she said softly. “This is the last dose for today.”

This time, Sang Chencao didn’t turn away. In front of Feng Yun’ai, she carved a small wound into her own leg and drew blood from her wrist.

It was a practiced, swift cut—not particularly deep, but it must have been excruciatingly painful.

Feng Yun’ai’s fingertips twitched. Her lips trembled uncontrollably. She couldn’t see clearly, yet she desperately wanted to.

The woman’s leg was a blurred mess, seemingly covered in scars that were likely no different from the burns Feng Yun’ai currently bore.

Yet Sang Chencao’s expression didn’t change, nor did her voice betray any weakness. It remained leisurely and slow as she covered the wound. “Staring blankly? A little injury like this is nothing to me. Since I can heal you, I can naturally heal myself.”

Pain isn’t something that just disappears because a wound heals. The skin may recover, but the heart always bears the mark.

Feng Yun’ai bit her lip, her eyes like leaves at dawn, shrouded in mist.

Sang Chencao maintained her carefree, unbothered demeanor as she brewed the medicinal broth. “Compared to when I was a child, this wound is nothing. Xiuxiu needn’t worry for me. However…”

She paused, her eyes curving. “Actually, worrying is fine too. You look more endearing when you’re fretting over me than when you’re staying silent.”

Feng Yun’ai didn’t think there was anything “endearing” about her current state. Half her face had been burned; though the flesh had regrown, if what Sang Chencao said was true, the new skin would be much whiter. She would likely end up with a mismatched complexion.

Sang Chencao looked at her again, raising an eyebrow. “I heal much faster than you do. Don’t believe me?”

Feng Yun’ai naturally didn’t.

“If you can’t see clearly, you should at least be able to feel it.” Sang Chencao suddenly grabbed Feng Yun’ai’s wrist and lifted the hem of her own robe, revealing legs with a slightly tanned complexion.

She guided that cold, powerless hand to touch her lightly ridged scabs.

Feng Yun’ai instinctively tried to pull her fingers back, but she couldn’t move.

“Don’t be afraid. To me, this truly is a minor injury,” Sang Chencao said with a smile.

Feng Yun’ai froze for a moment. Beneath her fingertips and palm was a landscape of scars, some deep and some shallow.

The scabs really did form quickly. Aside from the fresh cut, the skin beneath her palm was dry, with no sign of suppuration.

Feng Yun’ai opened her mouth, her habitual coldness trembling as it escaped. “It hurts… How can you bear to let yourself hurt?”

“Hm?” Sang Chencao’s smile faded. She asked tonelessly, “Then when you stood still in that fire, how did you bear to let yourself hurt?”

One can always bear their own pain. The true ‘unbearable’ suffering lies in the heart of the one watching.

After a long silence, Feng Yun’ai looked down and said softly, “I can’t bear it.”

For a moment, she herself didn’t know if she was answering that she couldn’t bear her own injuries, or that she couldn’t bear the other woman’s.

“But the burns have already happened. Does Xiuxiu think that things done and words said are like spilled water that can be gathered back?” Sang Chencao teased.