The layers of bandages were soaked with blood, shocking to see.
Yan Xiaohan bent down to lift Fu Shen, carefully placing him into the wooden tub filled with hot water. He got splashed by the overflowing water but did not care about his disheveled state: “My lord… Fu Shen?”
His fingers brushed past Fu Shen’s neck, revealing a light-colored scar beside the artery. The location was dangerous; if it had been a bit deeper, this person might not be lying in the bathtub so peacefully.
Yan Xiaohan only now realized how many scars Fu Shen had, both old and new, never displayed to others, never recorded in history, all etched behind the years of being a young marquis in his prime.
He understood what Fu Shen meant by “unresolved grievances.”
If he had never trusted the emperor, never held the world in his heart, why would he go to the battlefield carrying heavy armor? Couldn’t the legacy of three dukes protect a privileged young master?
Yan Xiaohan called in a young servant, pointing to Fu Shen in the bathtub: “Watch him carefully, don’t let him fall into the water.”
A screen was placed in the bath room, dividing the space. Yan Xiaohan quickly washed himself, wrung out his long hair with a towel, pinned it up, changed clothes, and returned to Fu Shen’s side. The young servant was surprised to see him care so much about anyone.
Fu Shen was burning with fever, his brain in a haze, with only a part of his consciousness still clear. He felt like he had gone from a cold rainy day to warm water, comfortable and drowsy. After a while, someone helped him up, and a familiar voice said in his ear: “Stretch out your hands and hold onto my neck.”
Fu Shen seemed bewitched, reaching out his arms. The hand on his shoulder applied slight pressure, and with a splash of water, he was lifted out of the water.
The moment his body left the water, cold swept in from all directions. Fu Shen moaned confusedly and instinctively struggled, trying to curl himself into a ball.
Yan Xiaohan almost fell into the water because of his sudden movement. Too late to be angry, he quickly spread out a blanket to wrap him up: “It’s okay, don’t move. Are you still cold?”
