Fingers as hot as branding irons clamped onto her pulse point, pulling her back from the cold grip of death to the stark reality before her.
She stopped sobbing and said, "The only people left alive in this inn are you and me. Do you really want to drag me down with you?" Yan Zijin tightened his grip in response.
Suddenly, Duan Wu gasped—she realized that the string of pearls entrusted to her by Weichi Wuyi was gone!
Her vision darkened, and her heart plummeted into despair. Though the bandits had spared her, they had taken the pearls.
She had thought the Kunlun Mountain bandits were nothing more than murderous demons. But now she understood—they were not only after wealth and lives, but also sought to crush the human spirit. Beneath that angelic exterior of the blue-eyed leader lay a heart as venomous as a serpent's, making her shudder.
It had to be the work of that group led by the Little Squirrel. That night, the blue-eyed bandit leader had only brought a few men, so he first took Little Squirrel, settled the caravan, and later sent people to secretly follow them until they regrouped at the inn. Then, in the dead of night, he led his entire band of thieves to slaughter everyone in the inn. On the surface, it seemed she and Yan Zijin had been spared, but robbing Yan Zijin of his men and riches, and taking the pearls from her, was like killing them both in a different way. How could Yan Zijin go to Prince Nomin empty-handed? And how could she face Weichi again?
Weichi had been the one who cared for her most on this journey, but she had failed him.
And that blue-eyed man—he had been the most courteous person she had ever met, but he had played her for a fool.
She could hardly breathe, feeling like her teeth would shatter from clenching them so hard. Hatred filled her, making her dizzy.
At that moment, Yan Zijin released her wrist. His eyelids fluttered as he said, "Water, give me water!"
Duan Wu scrambled to find the water pouch. She brought it to Yan Zijin’s head, but he pushed it away with a violent shove.
His face showed signs of agitation and despair, his cheeks flushed a vivid crimson.
Was he dying? From the sea voyage to now, he had shown no signs of fatigue. If he died, what would she do? Stay in this desolate, corpse-filled inn, or venture into the endless desert alone? She didn’t want either. She needed human presence. Even if it was a dying man with a heart of stone, she didn’t want him to die.
She lifted the water pouch again, bringing it to Yan Zijin’s lips. "Master, drink this—it’s water. You’ll feel cooler if you drink it."
Yan Zijin’s body twitched, his jaws clamped shut. In desperation, Duan Wu pried his lips apart with her fingers, trying to force the water into his mouth.
Yan Zijin groaned, suddenly biting down on her fingers. Duan Wu yelped and pulled her hand back.
Yan Zijin fumbled blindly for the water pouch beside him, raising it slightly.
He drank without pause until, suddenly, he threw the pouch against the wall and collapsed back onto the floor.
He stared up, breathing heavily, and muttered, "If I… die… you… won’t live either!"
Duan Wu’s fingers throbbed with pain, and she couldn’t help but retort loudly, "If you’re so capable, then don’t die!"
Her anger boiled over, and she continued, "…I have no one to complain to about my bad luck. I failed to kill that Mongol dog and was prepared to die. If you hadn’t saved me, I’d have turned to dust by now, saving myself a lifetime of trouble. But now? I’ve become your slave, dragged to this godforsaken place. Now those damned thieves have stolen the pearls, and I’ll never be able to face Weichi again… You’re sick and barely human, yet you still fight with me over life and death. Hmph! Live or die, I don’t care anymore. Of all the masters in the world, why did I have to end up with you? What did my ancestors do to deserve this?"
Yan Zijin looked like he wanted to sneer, but his fever was so severe that the attempt twisted his face into something resembling a grimace.
He managed to say, "You… owe me… a life."
Duan Wu snorted, "Fine, I’ll pay you back. You have three options. First, I kill myself right now. Second, you can kill me yourself. Third, I’ll cure your illness. Once we’re safe, we’ll be even. Take your pick!"
Yan Zijin’s eyes flickered, his hand fumbling at his waist, and he surprisingly managed to reply, "I… am the master…"
Duan Wu burst into laughter, nearly laughing herself into exhaustion. In that moment, she truly felt that staying in the inn overnight with Yan Zijin was worse than dying!
She pushed forward with her resolve: "You’re wrong! Only if I stay alive can you remain the master!"
With that, she gathered her strength and dashed toward the door. She wasn’t thinking of dying—she just wanted to be away from Yan Zijin for a while.
A flash of silver streaked from Yan Zijin’s waist, catching onto her belt like lightning.
Duan Wu stumbled and fell. She looked down to see a silver chain, as thick as a chopstick, binding her. Furious, she snapped, "Ha, so the master only knows how to deal with defenseless women. You’ve calculated everything, but how did you not foresee that Little Squirrel’s group would pull something like this?"
Yan Zijin didn’t have the strength to pull her, but he also didn’t let go.
He spoke in broken sentences, "…You think you’re… defenseless? You’ve… killed people… And… I did plan for this…"
Duan Wu's eyes lit up as she suddenly remembered the faint look of satisfaction on Yan Zijin’s face after Little Squirrel had left. Yan Zijin might have appeared to lose everything, but he was always a calculating person. For example, before reaching Hetian, he had ordered Ah Chang to send part of his valuables back to his home in the Central Plains. At Weichi's estate, he had worn a sobriety ring and pretended to be drunk... So, maybe those little thieves would suffer losses too?
Now, the two of them were truly in a dire situation. Who knew when the next caravan would come down the official road? And what if another band of bandits arrived? Yan Zijin had martial skills and a sharp mind. She needed to use him, just as he could use her, for both of them to survive this ordeal.
Duan Wu obediently walked back and softened her tone. "Master, I realize my mistake. I won’t act impulsively anymore. Are you feeling unwell? Do you want some medicine?"
Yan Zijin closed his eyes. He was shivering, barely managing to keep it under control.
Duan Wu sat on the ground and slowly unhooked the silver chain hanging behind her back. Yan Zijin didn’t object—he probably didn’t have the strength to do so.
Carefully, she covered him with the black sable coat lying on the ground, speaking softly, "Master, at least this coat is still worth some money. There's always a way out."
As soon as she finished speaking, he kicked the coat off. Duan Wu wondered if he was too hot, despite clearly shivering...
Yan Zijin continued to tremble for a while, beads of sweat forming densely on his forehead. His throat moved as he turned to his side.
Duan Wu thought he might be falling asleep and considered moving him to the kang (a heated bed). But tonight… could they really sleep in this room? And if not here, where else could they go?
"Duan Wu."
Startled, she realized Yan Zijin was calling her.
"Hmm?"
Despite his weak breath, Yan Zijin’s tone was almost the same as usual.
He instructed, "Pull back the bedding on the kang, take that stone to the kitchen and grind it into powder, then boil some hot water."
Following his orders, Duan Wu found the black stone given by the bandit leader hidden under several layers of bedding.
She didn’t know when Yan Zijin had hidden it. If he hadn’t, the bandits might have taken it too...
Yan Zijin had said it could be used as medicine. Duan Wu clutched the stone and turned to leave. Just as she was heading out, she saw Yan Zijin struggle to his feet, stumbling to the kang and collapsing into the bedding.
Downstairs, Duan Wu mimicked Yan Zijin’s usual half-closed, half-open eyes, carefully stepping around the corpses.
She realized that sometimes, when people let their vision blur a little, even the most terrifying and tragic sights could be pushed aside.
She spent half an hour in the kitchen, working up a sweat. Perhaps she had been so terrified earlier that now she felt less afraid.
Carrying the hot water, she entered the hall, only to suddenly spot someone sitting at the table.
She let out a startled cry, almost spilling the water.
Looking closely, she saw it wasn’t a ghost but Yan Zijin.
"Couldn’t you have just waited for me upstairs?" she scolded.
Yan Zijin, looking dazed and confused, only responded when she got closer, "I was afraid you’d run away."
"Run away? Where would I go? People die for money, birds die for food. Master, you’re so worried about your property in your final moments; how could I possibly run away? I’m sorry, I haven’t even had time to clean up the bodies in this place. If you don’t mind, hurry and take your medicine."
Yan Zijin shakily took the bowl and drank half the powdered medicine. He paused, hesitating, then tilted his head back and drank the rest.
He coughed for a while, as if he had choked, and couldn’t sit upright, so he slumped onto the table.
Duan Wu pounded his back with her fist, then half-carried, half-dragged him back upstairs.
Yan Zijin’s steps were heavy, and Duan Wu had to muster all her strength to get him back onto the kang.
She scolded, "How did you even get down there?"
Yan Zijin didn’t answer. It seemed the medicine had some effect—he was already asleep.
Duan Wu covered him with the blanket and then ate some of the scraps of lamb she had found in the kitchen, chewing slowly.
She had spent a lot of time in the kitchen earlier, not just grinding the stone, but also grinding a lot of pepper, which she had hidden in her pouch.
In the afternoon, a northwestern wind kicked up. The black wind howled across the desert, sounding like a lament.
Duan Wu didn’t know when Yan Zijin would recover. She covered her mouth and nose with a cloth and wandered around the inn.
The chests, livestock, everything had been taken, but the cart, though missing its horse, was still there.
From the rooftop, she could see far into the distance. She stood there for a long time, but she didn’t even spot a rabbit.
Duan Wu thought to herself: The bodies couldn’t just be left lying around haphazardly. Even in death, people should maintain some dignity.
She searched through every room in the inn, gathering dozens of felt blankets. Taking a deep breath, she began to lay each body flat on the ground, covering their faces with the blankets. She made sure to drag the four female slaves into one room and laid them side by side.
These bodies had all met a tragic end, and Duan Wu, after all, was still just a child. She worked for a while, then cried for a while, wiping away her tears before continuing her task.
These two hours of “moving bodies” was trouble she had brought upon herself. But she also added this to her growing list of grudges against Blue Eyes and Little Squirrel, hating them with a deep, searing resentment.
There was a well beside the kitchen. The Western regions were dry, and Duan Wu had to work hard for a long time to draw up a single bucket of water. The cold well water was perfect for helping to reduce a fever.
She selected two or three knives from the kitchen and hid them on her person. She also took down a meat hook and stuck it in her thick hair like a hairpin.
By the time she finished all this, it was almost dark. Vultures, drawn by the scent of blood, circled above the inn. Determined not to light any torches outside, Duan Wu locked the doors and placed various pots, bowls, and pans along every pathway where someone might walk. This way, even if a rat passed by, Duan Wu would hear it.
She grabbed a pot of radishes and ran upstairs. Lighting an oil lamp, she saw that Yan Zijin was fast asleep. In his sleep, he looked neither fierce nor strange, but rather like a child.
She had overheard some servants mention that Yan Zijin was a sheep according to the Chinese zodiac and, by her calculations, he was only twenty years old. Before, she had always thought he seemed older, but tonight, studying him closely, she realized he was just that age. She didn’t understand why someone like Yan Zijin, who could have easily made a fortune in the bustling capital of Dadu, would choose to venture beyond the Great Wall, come to the Western regions, become a human trafficker, and provoke bandits! He brought this trouble on himself... Yet now, she didn’t wish for him to die. In a place teeming with wild beasts and bandits, no one else might be better than Yan Zijin.
She hated being indebted to anyone. Over the past few days, she had taken care of repaying him, so he would have no reason to boast about it in the future.
Boldly, she touched Yan Zijin’s forehead, which was still burning hot. She wrung out a towel with the cold well water and placed it on his forehead. Yan Zijin groaned softly, as if in great pain.
Duan Wu thought to herself: That medicinal powder didn’t seem so miraculous. A regular fever could be reduced with a simple herbal decoction.
She had nowhere to sleep while taking care of him, so she spread the sable fur on the floor as a bed. As she lay down, she felt something small and hard under the fur. Curious, she reached inside and found something. Taking out a small knife, she secretly cut open a seam in the lining and couldn’t help but smile to herself. It turned out that the sable coat was stitched with several gold chains inside. Judging by this, Yan Zijin’s luggage probably contained other valuables he had hidden away. As the saying goes, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse. No matter how dire Yan Zijin’s situation became, he wouldn’t end up begging on the streets.
She tried to sleep but found it impossible to doze off. The night was dark and windy, and even though there was another living person in the room, she still felt uneasy.
She got up again to check on Yan Zijin. His lips had blistered from the fever, and the intense red color spread from his face to his neck, even making his hands unbearably hot. Duan Wu was alarmed—if this continued, he might not survive the night.
She remembered that Lala had once had a high fever that lasted three days and three nights. Duan Wu had to wipe her body with cold water every night...
But Lala was a girl, and Yan Zijin was a man. Moreover, Yan Zijin was a man Duan Wu didn’t particularly like...
Duan Wu grimaced, her eyes darting around as she thought: It’s a good thing I don’t like him. If I did, this would be really awkward.
Yan Zijin, from the South Sea to now, had always been impeccably dressed, with not even a sliver of wind slipping through his sleeves, and never showing his wrists. He was probably someone who was shy about such things. But now that his fever was so high, he likely couldn’t tell east from west, so it was best to wipe him down quickly. At worst, she could turn off the lamp and let the moonlight cover his modesty.
She extinguished the lamp, and in the icy blue moonlight, wrung out the towel again. She unbuttoned Yan Zijin’s clothes and pulled them down to his waist, preparing to wipe him down.
As she brought the towel down, she suddenly let out a surprised “Oh,” and the towel fell onto the kang (bed).
Startled, Duan Wu took another look at Yan Zijin’s face, and her surprise deepened.
In her confusion, she couldn’t help but light the oil lamp again. She examined Yan Zijin’s body closely and let out a long sigh, filled with astonishment.
No matter how much she disliked him, she couldn’t deny that Yan Zijin was a handsome man.
Even in his illness, his striking features were still apparent.
However, tonight she discovered a secret.
In truth, Yan Zijin wasn’t as perfect as he seemed. Beneath his clothes, his body was covered in scars, like a cracked porcelain doll.
Duan Wu had never seen a person with so many scars, deep and shallow, large and small, covering him from his arms to his chest, from his abdomen to his back. The beauty of his face was in stark contrast to the disfigurement of his body. No wonder... while others wore light summer clothing, he always remained fully covered...
How did he get so many scars? Yan Zijin came from a wealthy merchant family, so how could he have more scars than those who endured the worst torment as slaves? Someone who had suffered such pain, why would he continue to risk his life in such a harsh place as the Western regions?
Duan Wu scolded herself for daydreaming and hurried to finish wiping him down. Her gaze, however, was drawn to a small embroidered red orchid on his belt. It was a delicate, small red orchid, just like the one Yan Zijin had carried with him across the desert and to the valley, only to throw it off the cliff.
Orchids were Yan Zijin’s favorite flower, and presumably, the woman he liked also loved orchids.
Suddenly, Duan Wu felt a pang of pity for Yan Zijin. He had experienced pain yet still imposed servitude on others. He loved one person so deeply but couldn’t care for others in this world. Isn’t that pitiful?
But Duan Wu couldn’t allow herself to continue feeling sorry for Yan Zijin. She finished wiping him down and carefully dressed him again.
His body temperature was still dangerously high, and Duan Wu even wondered if those bandits had left behind some kind of poison to deceive Yan Zijin.
She was lost in thought, propping her arm on the edge of the kang (a traditional Chinese heated bed). Yan Zijin’s fever caused his whole body to convulse, and his pulse grew weaker. Duan Wu tried everything she could think of, but nothing worked. Her temples throbbed, and she clung to the small Hetian jade Buddha at her chest for comfort. Then, an idea struck her: jade was known for its coolness and ability to absorb heat. Although the protective charm given by Lord Wei Chi was small, it might still help cure Yan Zijin’s illness.
She placed the jade in her palm, rinsed it in the well water, and then held it between her fingers, running it along the meridians on Yan Zijin’s skin.
After a few strokes, the jade warmed up, and Duan Wu would wash it again before continuing.
After a long time, her hands ached from the effort, but finally, Yan Zijin let out a faint sigh.
His eyelids fluttered, and Duan Wu thought he was about to wake up, but he only murmured, "Mother, the cellar is so cold... My ears are almost frozen off... I know doing business isn’t easy... It’s okay, it’s okay... Hehe..."
Yan Zijin even laughed, like a young boy playfully complaining to his mother, or perhaps finding some inner joy.
Duan Wu knew that when someone was seriously ill, they often dreamed and talked nonsense.
Yan Zijin continued to mumble every now and then, some things Duan Wu could understand, others she couldn’t.
As dawn approached, Yan Zijin began to moan continuously, finally whispering, "…Sister Lan… Why didn’t you wait for me…? Not a moment goes by that I forget you… you… you…"
His tone was incredibly soft, his voice growing weaker until he couldn’t speak anymore.
For a moment, Duan Wu wanted to flee the room, feeling as though she had accidentally glimpsed someone else’s deepest thoughts.
The next day dawned clear. Yan Zijin’s fever had finally subsided a little, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes, nor did he speak in his sleep anymore.
Duan Wu tried to feed him some water and radishes, but he wouldn’t open his mouth. Irritated, she snapped, “Fine, don’t eat, just stay alive!”
Yan Zijin remained motionless. Duan Wu crossed her arms, thinking about the situation on the main road, and decided to go out and take a look.
The road was still deserted. Duan Wu thought: People might pass by the inn during the day or night but might not stop if they don’t see anything unusual. Maybe she should put something out to catch their attention?
Surely she wouldn’t drag out a corpse… Oh right, wasn’t there a wagon still here, with wheels that still turned?
She ran back into the inn and pushed the empty wagon onto the road. The wagon wasn’t very heavy, but for Duan Wu, it was no easy task.
Clapping her reddened hands together, she thought: If this doesn’t work, the only option left is to set fire to the inn to catch someone’s attention.
She returned to the room. Yan Zijin was lying sideways, his eyes open.
He sternly ordered, “Go, boil some hot water!”
Duan Wu smelled the faint scent of radish on his breath. He was indeed feeling better.
She muttered an agreement and brushed the dust off her feet.
Yan Zijin gave her a sidelong glance, pulling the sable fur from the side of the kang to use as a pillow.
Duan Wu thought: He’s barely recovered, and he’s already putting on the “master” act again? If he has another relapse tonight, I’m not staying up all night again.
Yan Zijin ignored her and drifted back into a deep sleep.
Duan Wu wasn’t superstitious, but her luck often took a turn for the worse. Sure enough, that night, Yan Zijin’s fever returned, leaving him unconscious.
Duan Wu could only do what she did the previous night, sitting by the kang and watching over his condition.
As the oil in the lamp burned down, it felt as though she and Yan Zijin had been abandoned, like people on a forgotten ship.
Yan Zijin groaned, and Duan Wu was about to light the lamp again to check on him when suddenly, there was a loud “clang” from downstairs, like a pot falling over. This was followed by the clinking of several bowls.
Someone had entered the inn!
Duan Wu was as startled as a frightened bird, instinctively pulling out a knife, forgetting about Yan Zijin.
In his fevered state, Yan Zijin suddenly grabbed her hand. In the darkness, he shook his head.
Would staying put mean they could avoid detection? Determined, Duan Wu pulled free from his weak grip.
She crept into the corridor, ready to confront whoever was there. But before she could speak, the intruder downstairs lit a torch and looked up with a grin, saying, “There you are.”
Duan Wu chuckled, “Yes, I’m here. Well then, come on up if you dare!”
She got a good look at the person. Many, many years later, she would still remember him.
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