Chapter 39: Chapter 38. Flowers. The path is full of red.

Chapter 38.

As the group departed the towering gates of Taiyuan's provincial city, they headed south, their steps steady and deliberate. After three-quarters of an hour, a village emerged on the horizon, distant yet unmistakable.

But the woman leading them didn’t steer them toward the settlement. Instead, with a quiet yet deliberate determination, she skirted its edges, guiding them toward the shadowy woods beyond the village.

“Why avoid the village?” one of the guards, his instincts sharp and alert, asked warily.

Her voice, calm and even, betrayed no alarm. “You’re here to see the sick, aren’t you?” she replied. By now, she’d sensed no malice in them, her guarded demeanor easing slightly. “This plague spreads like wildfire. We couldn’t risk keeping them in the village. They’ve been relocated.”

She gestured toward a faint silhouette deeper within the forest. “They’re all in the old Earth God Temple, just beyond those trees.”

Under the shroud of retreating stars and a hazy moonlight, the group strained to make out the shape she indicated. The flicker of their torches offered little help, the view still vague and elusive. It took another quarter-hour of trudging through the underbrush before the temple’s outline finally came into view.

Reaching an ancient tree with a trunk as thick as three men, the woman stopped abruptly, raising her hand to halt their approach. “No further,” she commanded firmly.

In the dim light, she fumbled for a coarse rope tied to the tree, her fingers deftly finding it in the dark. A sharp tug, followed by another, sent a crisp chime of brass bells through the still air. Moments later, lights flickered to life inside the once-blackened temple, and muffled sounds stirred from within.

“This place holds the afflicted,” she warned, her voice cool but unwavering. “I’m the only one who goes in or out. For your safety, you should cover your faces now.”

Without protest, the group quickly tied cloths over their noses and mouths. Not long after, a young man emerged from the temple, his gait slow, his hand holding a lantern that cast shifting shadows over his masked face. He stopped several steps away, cautious and distant, his posture tense. Under the muted light, he couldn’t discern the identity of the newcomers and seemed to assume they were villagers.

“Doctor Wen,” his voice was hoarse but restrained. “Did you manage to get the medicine?”

“I did.” Wen Ling nodded, stepping forward to place two heavy baskets of herbs on the ground. She didn’t mention the chaos they’d encountered back in the provincial city. “How are things here?”

The man coughed lightly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of bad news. “Five more died today. We burned their bodies and scattered the ashes behind the temple. The medicine ran out two days ago. Without it, the sickness is worsening. More than ten people coughed blood today. They’ve already been moved to the other side of the temple.”

Wen Ling’s brows knit together, a faint flicker of frustration crossing her otherwise calm face. “These herbs should hold you over for now. Start brewing medicine at first light tomorrow. They need to keep drinking it.”

“I know.” He sighed, his voice heavy with despair. “There’s talk, though. Old Zhao’s son overheard in the market that the authorities brought grain to the disaster zones. But there’s a fear... If it’s true, will the officials come for us? Will they burn us all alive, like the others?”

The words hung in the air, oppressive and heavy. Wen Ling cast a glance toward the prince and his entourage, her expression unreadable but tense. She chose her words carefully. “No. This time, the relief is led by the Crown Prince himself. He’s known for his compassion and wisdom. I’ve heard no mention of such cruelty.”

The man’s response was a weary sigh, his skepticism palpable. Yet he said no more.

After a few more subdued exchanges, Wen Ling motioned for the group to leave. As they made their way back toward the village, she turned to the prince, her tone steady but tinged with suspicion. “Well, Your Highness, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. What do you intend to do about them?”

Her gaze was sharp, her voice calm yet layered with barely veiled doubt. “I found this place by chance while foraging for herbs. These people fled Taiyuan and nearby towns, carrying their sickness with them. Some were already infected; others caught it later. They didn’t want to endanger anyone else, but neither could they accept being burned alive. They came here, desperate to survive.

“As the plague spread, word got out. Families with infected loved ones brought them here. The sick live in the Earth God Temple, the healthier ones tending to those who are worse off. Meanwhile, uninfected relatives hide in the village, scavenging for food and medicine while evading soldiers.”

She spoke with a haunting clarity, each word painting a vivid picture of the dire conditions. “My skills can only do so much. The medicine I prepare delays the symptoms but doesn’t cure them. Death is a constant here. The dead are burned because there’s no time or place to bury them. Behind the temple, the ashes are piled so thick they form a gray blanket over the earth.”

Her voice lingered in the air, the weight of her words pressing against the silence that followed. The Crown Prince met her gaze, his decision yet unspoken, but the burden of it unmistakably clear.

She spoke with an unwavering calm, her voice devoid of anger or resentment. Yet, the subtle tremor in her fingers betrayed the turmoil she fought to conceal.

Fearless? No.

She wasn’t fearless. She had simply run out of options. The only hope left lay in the mercy of the powerful men before her. If they could muster even a sliver of compassion, perhaps they’d spare the lives of the infected.

Yin Chengyu noticed her veiled anxiety. His tone remained composed as he said, "Handling all these patients alone is beyond you. Have them sent to the quarantine zone."

Wen Ling’s nails dug into her palms, but she didn’t flinch. Her voice, sharp and unyielding, cut through the tension: "When the soldiers first said they’d send the infected there, they promised safety. But then, they burned everyone alive. Will His Highness do the same?"

Yin Chengyu’s eyes met hers, steady and unapologetic. "At this moment, I cannot promise you anything," he said frankly. "The imperial physicians and gathered doctors are working tirelessly to find a cure. But you, as a healer, must know—this outbreak is no ordinary plague. If not contained, the consequences will be catastrophic. What I can assure you is this: every patient sent to the quarantine zone will be treated to the best of our ability. Until the very last moment, I will not abandon my people lightly."

Wen Ling wrestled with her thoughts for a long time before her voice emerged, hoarse but resolute: "I understand."

Yin Chengyu nodded. "I am summoning doctors from across the land to combat this plague. If you are willing, you can contribute your expertise. But these patients must be moved to the quarantine zone immediately to prevent further spread."

"I’ll help convince them," she said, her hesitation gone.

"Then I’ll leave it to you, Doctor Wen." Yin Chengyu inclined his head, leaving his officers behind to assist her with the transfer of the sick.

By the time Yin Chengyu returned to the city, the eastern horizon had begun to pale with the first light of dawn. Thanks to Wen Ling’s efforts, the first group of patients had been persuaded to enter the quarantine zone, gradually dispelling the terror left by Zhou Weishan. More would follow willingly in time. Without a cure, isolation was their only weapon to slow the plague’s relentless advance.

Yin Chengyu exhaled deeply, his tension easing as he shed his outer robe with the help of Xue Shu and changed into more comfortable attire. The day's events weighed on him, too heavy for sleep to find him. Instead, he settled by the window on a cushioned daybed, brewing tea with deliberate, calming precision. The rising steam, fragrant and steady, helped him unwind.

Xue Shu stood silently nearby, half his face hidden in the shadow, his long lashes veiling his expression.

Pouring himself a cup of tea, Yin Chengyu sipped slowly before turning his sharp gaze on Xue Shu. "You mentioned before that you once lived through a great plague and resided in Jining for some time…" His voice was casual, but his jade ring turned slowly on his finger, an edge to his words. "I just remembered—I was in Yutai County in Jining during the famine relief of the fourteenth year of Longfeng. Were you there too?"

The ring’s movement was deliberate, unhurried, yet his stare was piercing, probing, as though stripping away Xue Shu’s defenses. "Did you meet me in Yutai?"

The question hung, more statement than inquiry, laden with certainty.

From Xue Shu's recent words and actions, it’s crystal clear—he’s been through a devastating epidemic that’s left its mark.

Back in Tianjin, Xue Shu had casually mentioned his roots—his family hailed from Shaanxi before they eventually settled in Jining Prefecture. But he’d been oddly vague about the exact spot in Jining, as if trying to keep something hidden.

Sure, Shandong faced its fair share of floods and outbreaks every year, but the only epidemic of real note was the one that tore through Yutai County in the 14th year of Longfeng. And now, with Xue Shu acting strangely around him, Yin Chengyu couldn’t ignore the signs anymore.

Suspicion sparked, and he saw his chance. Waiting until Xue Shu was utterly drained from a night of relentless running around, Yin Chengyu decided it was time to push—time to test him and uncover the truth.

Xue Shu remained composed, his expression unreadable. He had expected this moment, had known it was only a matter of time. Yin Chengyu had been testing him for days, pressing closer to a truth he had worked so hard to bury.

Xue Shu raised his eyes, locking them with Yin Chengyu’s. His voice was low but firm. "If I were to tell the truth, would there be a reward?"

Yin Chengyu’s brows drew together in a sharp line. With a swift motion, he grabbed Xue Shu by the collar, pulling him down to his level. His voice dropped, dangerous and close: "What reward do you think you deserve?"

His phoenix-like eyes shimmered with a dangerous allure as he raised his hand, the jade-green ring glinting on his slender finger. Slowly, oh so deliberately, he slid the ring from his index finger, the green hue making his alabaster skin seem even more delicate.

Xue Shu froze, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Do you like it?”

Yin Chengyu’s voice was rich and taunting as he pinched the ring between his thumb and forefinger, letting it dangle teasingly in front of Xue Shu’s face.

But before Xue Shu could answer, Yin Chengyu leaned forward, tugged open his collar, and slipped the cold ring inside, letting it glide down against his bare skin. A low chuckle escaped his lips. “It’s yours.”

The icy touch of the jade sliding against his chest sent a shiver coursing through Xue Shu’s body, too sharp and raw to ignore.

“Not enough.”

His voice was hoarse, his restraint unraveling. Without waiting for a response, Xue Shu grabbed Yin Chengyu’s wrist with an iron grip, bowing his head to take the very finger that had worn the ring into his mouth. His teeth sank in hard, leaving no room for hesitation.

Yin Chengyu winced, his brows furrowing as pain shot through him. “Are you mad?!” he snapped, ready to lash out. But then he saw it—the way Xue Shu released his hand, tilting his head up to meet his gaze, tongue flicking over his lips like a wolf savoring the hunt.

A deep red bite mark wrapped around Yin Chengyu’s pale finger, vivid against his skin. It was impossible to miss.

“You’re like a dog, aren’t you?” Yin Chengyu sneered, his expression filled with disdain as he inspected the saliva glistening on his finger. He shoved his hand toward Xue Shu. “Wipe it clean. Now.”

Xue Shu didn’t protest. Bowing his head, he reached into his robes for a handkerchief.

“Wait,” Yin Chengyu barked, stopping him mid-motion. He pulled out another handkerchief and tossed it at Xue Shu. “Use this. Who knows what filth yours has touched?”

Xue Shu obediently complied, meticulously wiping the slender fingers clean with the cloth provided. Only then did Yin Chengyu seem satisfied, drawing his hand back and lifting his teacup with a practiced grace.

“Speak.”

Xue Shu hesitated, their eyes locking. But under the weight of Yin Chengyu’s gaze, he gave in, spilling the story from the moment they first met at the fish market to the winding path that had brought him here, to the palace. Every word stripped him bare, exposing his raw ambition.

Yin Chengyu’s expression shifted between amusement and something darker, unreadable. Setting his cup down, he leaned back, studying Xue Shu like a predator toying with prey.

“So,” he murmured, “why did you enter the palace?”

Xue Shu’s voice didn’t falter. “For you, Your Highness. To be closer to you.”

A long silence stretched between them. Yin Chengyu’s fingers traced the bite mark on his hand, the faint sting pulling his lips into a cold, sharp smile. “And this is how you repay your benefactor?”

His words seemed directed at Xue Shu, but there was a shadow in his tone, as if he were speaking to someone from another time.

Xue Shu didn’t flinch. His gaze dropped to the crimson mark on Yin Chengyu’s finger as he replied with defiance. “There’s an old saying: a life saved should be repaid with a lifetime of devotion.”

Yin Chengyu, startled by his audacity, let out an incredulous laugh. The irritation in his expression melted into reluctant amusement.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said lightly, his voice tinged with mockery. “Ignorant, uneducated nonsense. I don’t have the energy to argue with you.”

He refilled his tea and waved dismissively. “Leave. Don’t test my patience.”

But Xue Shu didn’t move.

He caught the faint curve of Yin Chengyu’s lips, the shadow of a smile that betrayed no true anger. The hope he’d buried deep inside him flared to life, wild and untamed. He had to know.

“Is Your Highness still angry?”

He had no clue why His Highness was so furious, but deep down, he had this nagging feeling that once His Highness cooled off, everything might take a sharp turn for the better.

Desires in Xue Shu’s heart sprouted wildly, untamed and relentless, refusing to be ignored.

Yin Chengyu scoffed, standing abruptly. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as his fingers brushed against Xue Shu’s lips in a touch so fleeting it felt imagined. His voice dripped with mockery, slow and deliberate. “My grudges are deep, and my memory sharp. This anger… it won’t fade anytime soon.”

Xue Shu swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the finger that had just grazed him. “Then I’ll wait, until Your Highness is no longer angry.”

What would happen after? Neither dared to say.

Yin Chengyu let out a sharp breath, brushing past him with a cold chuckle. “Get out. Don’t disturb my rest.”

He’d tasted rejection, but Yin Chengyu’s tone held something more—a challenge, a dare.

Marked or not, Xue Shu had made his claim.

———TN:

How is it possible that little has picked up and devoured such an incredible book?

Honestly, it’s downright scandalous that a masterpiece like this hasn’t been consumed and adored by everyone.