Fu Shen said, “Today’s humiliation will be repaid someday.”
Yan Xiao Han had no words. He had always thought he understood Fu Shen and looked down on his overly naive persistence. Only today did he realize that Fu Shen was far more complex than he understood, and he could never underestimate his unwavering determination.
He sighed, his anger completely extinguished.
Yan Xiao Han reached out to help Fu Shen up, thinking it inappropriate to keep standing in the rain. But before his hand could touch him, Fu Shen suddenly tilted forward. Fortunately, Yan Xiao Han was quick and caught him as he collapsed into his arms.
“Fu Shen!”
Chapter 10: In Illness ┃ You’re Touching My Hand
“Fu Shen!”
A blurry call reached his ears. He was still conscious, but his body had lost sensation. The rain sound followed him, and someone leaned down to pick him up, with a familiar touch.
It felt like the warm embrace he was held in when he fell a few days ago, or the gentle hands that had patted his back long ago.
He was taken into a narrow, dry cell, forced away from that warm, comfortable embrace. Before he could fully enjoy it, he suddenly grabbed the person’s collar and pulled hard—
Crash.
Master Yan was thrown into the carriage, landing in an unseemly position on top of the Jing Ning Marquis. And Fu Shen was finally, as everyone expected, awakened by the impact.
Their eyes met.
Yan Xiao Han had not expected this sick man to play dead and was about to explode with anger when he met Fu Shen’s gaze. Rain droplets hung on his eyelashes, his gaze unfocused, looking like he was about to cry. Although he knew it was fake, Yan Daren couldn’t help but extinguish his anger, sitting up by himself and asking in a low voice, “Shall we go to my residence first and have Shen Yice take a look at your injuries?”
He was a bit worried about Fu Shen’s condition; making a disabled person kneel on stone bricks for an hour was no joke. Fu Shen mumbled an “Mm” in response.
He was tired, half-closing his eyes, seemingly lacking the energy to even speak, leaning against the carriage wall like he had no bones. The carriage headed towards the Yan residence, and the roads in the capital were smooth, yet Fu Shen was still swaying left and right. Yan Xiaohan observed him carefully for a long time, finally tentatively reaching out towards Fu Shen. Before he could get close, Fu Shen grabbed his wrist: “What are you doing?”
Yan Xiaohan: “Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
Fu Shen’s face flashed with confusion: “Everything hurts. Why?”
His fingers were cold, with an abnormal heat in his palm. Yan Xiaohan sighed, twisting his wrist to break free from his grip, and reached out to feel his forehead: “You have a fever.”
It was hot enough to burn his hand.
Fu Shen didn’t seem to feel anything and reached out to touch himself. Yan Xiaohan pointed out, “You’re touching my hand.” Fu Shen turned over carelessly, saying, “It’s fine… I’ll be better after sleeping.”
However, on the journey from the imperial palace to the Yan residence, the untreated hidden injuries and the cold from the rain erupted all at once. Fu Shen became delirious, completely passing out when getting off the carriage and unable to be awakened. Yan Xiaohan had no choice but to carry him in.
The servants didn’t dare to look sideways. Under Yan Xiaohan’s strict management, they quickly prepared a hot bath and clothes and blankets. Yan Xiaohan personally helped Fu Shen undress. The wet undergarment clung to his body, revealing his lean physique. Yan Xiaohan’s attention was on Fu Shen’s legs.
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?”
Fu Shen mumbled something Yan Xiaohan couldn’t hear and leaned closer: “Hmm?”
Fu Shen stopped talking, slowly stretching his hands and feet in the warm blanket, but his brow was still tightly furrowed, as if enduring something. Yan Xiaohan studied his expression and tentatively asked: “Does something hurt?”
Fu Shen made a vague sound from his throat. Yan Xiaohan, who was about to help him dress, didn’t dare to move now, afraid of touching some hidden wound.
Just then, someone came to report that Shen Yice had arrived, so Yan Xiaohan carried him, blanket and all, to the bedroom.
Shen Yice saw him carrying someone in and almost popped his eyes out: “This, this, this…”
“Stop stammering,” Yan Xiaohan placed Fu Shen on his bed, “It’s the Jining Marquis. He knelt in the rain for almost an hour and just passed out from fever. Take a look, can he be saved?”
Shen Yice felt that the Jining Marquis had been appearing quite frequently recently but didn’t think too deeply about it. While checking Fu Shen’s pulse, he said, “What happened? He can barely walk, why would he kneel in the rain? My lord, were you also in the rain? Tell them to brew some ginger soup.”
Yan Xiaohan waved his hand in annoyance, not wanting to discuss that matter.
Shen Yice was very perceptive and did not ask further questions. He carefully took Fu Shen’s pulse, lifted the blanket to check his legs, wrote three prescriptions for medication, washed his hands with strong alcohol, and changed the bandages on Fu Shen’s legs.
Yan Xiaohan frowned and asked, “He was crying out in pain earlier. Could there be other wounds?”
Shen Yice suspected that the Chief Investigator’s brain had been ruined by the autumn rain. He patiently explained, “Kneeling on the ground for an hour would break even an iron knee, let alone his already shattered kneecap. Moreover, soaking wounds in water causes swelling and pain.”
And—” he pointed out the window, “People who have come from the battlefield, like the Jingning Marquis, fear this kind of weather the most. I guess he has many old wounds.”
Yan Xiaohan softly sighed, “An ordinary person could never become him.”
