Zijing’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. Finally, he spoke, his tone flat but firm, “Don’t forget your role. You’re a member of the West Jiang Tribe, aren’t you? You have three lives to protect—your own, mine, and the elder’s. Remember that.”
I trembled under the weight of his words, nodding quickly. “Yes… yes, I understand. I swear, Master, I’ll protect you and the elder. I won’t forget my duty.”
He stepped forward and handed me the pouch, the faint scent of medicinal herbs wafting from it. With a soft sigh, he said, “Let’s go.”
As we started to move, my elder cousin gave me a knowing glance, smiling faintly. “Take good care of him. It’s rare to see someone like Zijing relying on anyone.”
Zijing’s lips curled into a cold smile, but he didn’t respond. His expression remained indifferent, though his aura carried a subtle warmth that was impossible to ignore.
“Alright, let’s go.” His words broke the silence as he strode ahead, his pace steady and purposeful.
My elder cousin knew everything about me. In the tribe, he was probably closer to me than Zijing, but now that Zijing was injured and unable to ride his sword, my cousin had no choice but to carry me on horseback. Despite his usual composure, I could tell he wasn’t pleased with the situation.
I hesitated, whispering to him, “We can go now.”
“Stay quiet!” Zijing snapped. He moved slightly, his breathing steady yet strained. My cousin grabbed my arm, lifting me onto the horse without waiting for a response, and we set off at a gallop. When I glanced back, Zijing’s lone figure remained behind in the vast, desolate landscape, his silhouette blending into the wilderness.
My heart ached as I turned my gaze westward.
By the time we returned to the small courtyard, my cousin and I waited quietly, hoping to hear good news about the recovery of the three sisters poisoned earlier. But no such news came.
The days passed slowly, yet no changes were reported. My cousin’s expression darkened with worry. I could sense his growing frustration, though he said little. He wasn’t someone to voice his doubts openly, yet his silence spoke volumes. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of disappointment from the tribe pressing down on me.
“They’ve been sent back with fake remedies,” my cousin muttered bitterly.
I was stunned by his words. “Impossible! Zijing wouldn’t do something like that to me!” I protested.
But when I looked into my cousin’s eyes, his grim expression told me he had already accepted the situation. “If he knew there was no solution, why didn’t he say so? Why give us false hope? The tribe values loyalty, but we must also value the truth. Do you understand that, or are you still too blinded by your trust in him?”
I wanted to argue further but couldn’t find the words. My throat tightened as I realized there was no way to refute him, yet I couldn’t bring myself to agree either. Deep down, I knew Zijing must have had his reasons. He wasn’t someone who made decisions lightly.
I spent the next few days buried in thought, writing countless letters explaining the situation, though none of them ever left my desk. In the end, I couldn’t decide how to face the tribe or my sisters.
Late one night, Zijing came to see me. He looked as pale and distant as ever, though his injuries had slightly improved. His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment before he turned away. “You can’t solve this with just words,” he said softly. “But I’ll take responsibility.”
I didn’t reply, watching as he left the room. For the first time, I wondered if Zijing’s burden was heavier than I could have imagined. He carried not just his own troubles but also the weight of my trust—and perhaps even guilt—for the promises he couldn’t keep.
In that moment, I realized Zijing wasn’t the invincible figure I had once believed him to be. He was human, just like me. And just like me, he was fighting to survive in the shadows of the past.
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