A/N Part of the reason this update took so long was that I wasn't sure if I liked how the story was unfolding, especially within this chapter. I wanted everything to have a purpose but this version might just have to be loosely labelled as a draft
The first thing Liu Qingyuan registered when he regained consciousness was the pain and the cold. His eyelids felt heavy and his limbs heavier, pain sweeping through him with every gentle sway of his limbs. Before Liu Qingyuan could make heads or tails of his surroundings, a wave of dizziness stole his remaining consciousness.
He awoke again not soon after. Perhaps it was his body's desire to survive that forced him to be well enough to wake. Liu Qingyuan lifted his eyelids, hazy vision instilling a sort of dream-like quality to everything he could see. It took him a while to realize that half his face was buried in mud, gentle water lapping at his half-submerged body. At that thought, the mirage seemed to break and the water's chilling sensation swept into his body. His fingers twitched weakly in pain. The winter to come was bitter; naturally the water in this pool would be freezing. Combined with his injures, it would be a miracle if he survived.
Liu Qingyuan lay there, mind fuzzy with pain. His chest hurt with every breath, lungs scraped raw from the icy air. A trace of warmth ran down his face and he belatedly realized he was crying. Perhaps the pain was too great, or his master's ruthlessness hurt too much, but Liu Qingyuan lay there for a while, his face impassive but crystal tears running across the bridge of his nose and into the muddy ground. Laying there immobilized brought a sort of peace within itself. Liu Qingyuan couldn't feel his legs anymore; frozen stiff and injured. He wondered what would happen if he simply closed his eyes.
'You...you definitely have to come back on time. If you...if you dare play outside, we'll see if I'll come punish you!' That indignant voice rang through his head and a trace of a smile graced his lips. His king...his king was still waiting for him. If he died out here in the mountains, how sad would he be? How much would he suffer? Liu Qingyuan's finger twitched lightly. Unfortunately, the mind was willing but the body was not. No matter how much he willed, he only moved slightly. Even that slight movement brought a searing pain to his leg. As if all the frozen nerves were suddenly ignited with feeling. A low grown climbed it's way from his throat, fingers spasming as they gripped the icy ground. His leg was definitely broken.
It was a long while before he managed to move his arm underneath himself. The movement brought pain to his ribs, enough for his vision to momentarily blacken. Forehead pressed to the ground, Liu Qingyuan stared vacantly into the mud, eyelashes trembling as a burning heat seemed to rise in his face. Cold sweat dotted his temples and he reached out, attempting to drag himself out of the water. The ground seemed to form hands, reluctant to let go and clinging to his wet clothes in desperation.
Using all the strength in his body resulted in moving forward barely half an inch. And after that, his strength seemed to drain. Every movement made his muscles burn with pain, but slowly they came back to life. A long while passed before he was able to drag most of his body from the water. Liu Qingyuan gasped for breath, his body twitching helplessly in protest. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't move another inch. Without another word, he closed his eyes and passed out.
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The mountainous area of the countryside offered an exhilarating view for those who wished to see it. However, its terrain was like the two sides of a coin; beautiful, flowery meadows quickly turning into dark, thickened woods. Within these woods, a small dilapidated cottage stood. Its four walls were aged from the sun, dirt long staining its surface. The roof was crooked, looking as though it would fall off any second. Despite its poor appearance, the little cottage was firm, its interior clean and a trial of smoke snaked its way from the short, stumpy chimney. Inside, there was only a simple stove, a mattress of straw in the corner and one rickety, roughly-built chair. Contrary to expectation, the room wasn't bare, in fact, there was barely space to walk; the floor covered with stacks of flat wooden baskets, a plethora of dried herbs and flowers within. It was a harmonious picture, if quite ugly.
A deeper look at the space destroyed its harmony. On the straw mattress an unconscious figure lay, cheeks flushed and lips bloodless. He was barely dressed, a thick bandage winding around his chest and one pant leg pushed up to reveal a leg full of bandages. As the sun shone in through the slightly open door, the man's eyelashes fluttered and slowly opened, revealing a pair of dark eyes.
The low mud ceiling swam in front of Liu Qingyuan's eyes until it finally focused. He lay there for a while, feeling a cool breeze float across his hot skin. He took a deep breath, grunting slightly, a deep ache ran through his chest. Liu Qingyuan breathed out slowly, trying to remember what had happened. He remembered...delivering the grain and oil. He remembered his master and he remembered the fire, the fight, the pain as his kicked him down. He remembered the pain and beyond that, it was a blur.
Liu Qingyuan closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the tightness in his chest to subside. He slowly pushed himself up, gazing deeply at his wrapped leg before pushing himself to his feet, balancing against the wall with one foot. A single glance allowed him to take in the entirety of the cottage and its mess. The wood in the stove's mouth glowed faintly, evidence that a fire had been recently; another person had to have been here.
Using the wall, Liu Qingyuan struggled to the door. He lurched forward as the door gave under his weight, screaming in protest as it swung open fully. Immediately, the bitter mountain wind leaked into the room, sending a small shiver down Liu Qingyuan's back. He took a step outside, turning to close the door. He flinched, fingers tightening on the edge of the door.
Behind the door was a woman, staring blankly at him through unseeing eyes. A thick scar stretched from temple to temple, turning her eyes misty while twisting the skin of her face hideously. She didn't move nor talk, simply looking at him.
Liu Qingyuan narrowed his eyes. "Hello, are you the one who saved me?" There was silence. "Can I ask your name?" After a few seconds, the woman moved, drifting past him and into the cottage. She kneeled, shoving a thick piece of wood into the stove under his attentive gaze. It was logical to start with small pieces of twigs and grass first, but by some power of the world, a roaring fire immediately started. Liu Qingyun watched her for a while before he began to feel tired and slowly made his way back to the bed. He sat on the edge, still observing her every movement.
After a while, the woman turned and dug through the pile of herbs, pulled out a chipped porcelain bowl. Its surface was stained and aged with use. That bowl was put down in front of Liu Qingyuan without a word, now filled with a thin, porridge-like dish. The gentle aroma of herbs floated up. Liu Qingyuan raised his head and watched her but she didn't acknowledge him, merely turning and exiting the cottage at leisurely pace. He waited for a while but she didn't return.
Turning his attention to the bowl in front of him, Liu Qingyuan analyzed it. It wouldn't be poisoned...right? It shouldn't be; after all, who'd save someone just to poison them? You never knew...there were too many perverts in the world who thrived from people's suffering. Liu Qingyuan looked at the piles and piles of different herbs and realized that even if it was poisoned, there was no way he'd know. The knowledge his master taught him was mostly focused on the art of the sword.
At the thought, Liu Qingyuan frowned, squeezing the bowl in his hand before lifting it to his lips and drinking it down. Although it was thin, the porridge was a warmth in his stomach. He reached up, gently pressing on areas of his chest to determine the extent of his injuries. After a little while longer, he dropped his hand, beginning to feel a little drowsy. Sunlight had flooded the room a while ago and the woman was still nowhere to be seen. Liu Qingyuan shifted, leaning his back on the wall and crossing his arms habitually. But the familiar clank and weight of metal wasn't present and Liu Qingyuan faintly remembered he'd lost his sword. His eyelids slowly drooped down.
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Liu Qingyuan felt a touch on his collar. It was feather-light and itchy. He opened his eyes a little, slowly realizing that that woman was in front of him. Reflexively, he grabbed her wandering hand. "What are you doing?" The woman tugged at her hand and Liu Qingyuan quietly let her go, watching as she reached out, nonchalantly tucking in the end of the bandage and standing. He looked down, realizing his bandages had been changed and a strong medicinal smell emanated from his body. Liu Qingyuan immediately looked guardedly at her. Just now, he'd just been sleeping. How is it that failed to realize the things happening to his own body?
The woman moved away, coming back with another, identical bowl of porridge. Liu Qingyuan stared at the bowl warily, feeling as if this concoction was the one to blame. He didn't drink it, instead watching the woman leave once again.
It was late at night when the woman returned. She stopped, staring at him from across the room and at the untouched bowl of cold, congealed porridge. Liu Qingyuan met her gaze a little definitely, hunched over slightly from the building pain of his wound. He felt a chill down his spine. She was blind, right? Then why did it seem like she was looking right into his face..." She approached him, kneeling down to pick up that bowl. Suddenly, fast as lightning, her arm shot forward, the edge of the bowl colliding painfully with his teeth. Liu Qingyuan reacted fast, grabbing her arm to stop her but who knew that she didn't even budge!
He quickly shouted, "Who are you? Why do you want me to drink this?" The woman didn't speak, pressing the bowl closer. Liu Qingyuan finally managed to wrench it from her grip and he stopped struggling, merely staring at him. "Who are you? What is this place?"
She pulled out of his grip without answering. She gestured lightly to the side. Liu Qingyuan glanced over, recognizing several plants that helped aid the rebuilding of bone and the replenishment of blood. There were several that also had anti-inflammatory properties. But there were far more that he didn't recognize.
He got the gist of it; she was trying to heal him. But why? In this world, there was rarely a trace of kindness without a purpose or ulterior motive. He didn't believe that he was lucky enough to garner the favour of the heavens. He was just another ordinary individual in this world; his timeline would end eventually.
The two of them were locked in a staring contest until Liu Qingyuan lowered his head, reluctantly raising the bowl to his lips. She didn't move until he set down the empty bowl, moving to the corner and sitting down.
"Why did you save me?" After a few seconds, the woman turned her head, staring unblinkingly at him. Liu Qingyuan's face was impassive but her odd gaze still sent a shiver down his spine.
She only gently shook her head, mouth twisting in pity. "Borrowing luck...borrowing luck, ah." The voice that came from that mouth was rough and hoarse, but it was clearly that of a young girl's. Her face was relatively aged, further marred with that hideous scar. The contrast was really too shocking.
"..." Liu Qingyuan watched her warily, as she turned away. He watched her until that familiar drowsy feeling washed over him and he reluctantly lay back.
Several pieces of straw poked him in the back and the stove spread a sort of oppressing, uncomfortable heat through the room. Nevertheless, Liu Qingyuan felt a lethargic sort of peace, his muscles involuntarily relaxing.