Lian Shenwei’s body wouldn’t experience problems from losing that one vial of blood.
Feng Ke hastily stopped the bleeding. After they returned to the Regent Prince’s Manor, he applied medicine again.
This shallow wound that had been cut open—in Lian Shenwei’s view, it couldn’t even be considered an injury.
Whether to save the person ultimately still depended on Feng Ke. Though Lian Shenwei was worried, he still followed his suggestion—
To test Li Ningfeng’s character these next few days.
Lian Shenwei said, “As you said, if after half a month he still seeks death wholeheartedly and gives up on himself, then use your method that takes longer to treat.”
Feng Ke replied, “Then don’t feel sorry for him. I’ll use your blood externally on him to suppress the Blood-Melting Parasite for half a month. During this half month, the pain will double.”
Lian Shenwei nodded.
“I understand.”
If he couldn’t even endure this pain, then indeed he wasn’t worth paying such a great price to save.
Though the earlier Li Ningfeng recovered the better, his current state was clearly from being hit by Northern Yi’s underhanded tactics.
Now Li Ningfeng stayed home claiming illness and didn’t go out, but whether the matter of his legs could truly be kept tightly sealed was uncertain. If the frontier caught wind of it, trouble might break out.
He needed someone—in case something happened at the frontier, someone who could step up and stabilize the situation.
Lian Shenwei stroked the bandaged wound on his forearm. After a moment, he took out a jade-green bamboo flute from the bookshelf, walked to the window, placed it to his lips, and gently began to play.
A hanging moon in the night sky, bamboo leaves rustling, the flute’s melody lingering.
This flute music seemed wrapped in Jinling’s misty rain. Between galloping hoofbeats, a youth leaned against a pavilion holding a sword, his robes lightly flowing. With a raised gaze, there was clear wind and bright moon.
A wandering knight travels a thousand miles.
Feng Ke immediately recognized this tune.
He turned his eyes toward his childhood friend’s figure silently playing the flute by the window. Scattered bamboo shadows fell on the windowsill. The wind sounded like reminiscence.
Nearly ten years…
Lian Shenwei had avoided someone for nearly ten years, and he hadn’t heard this tune in almost ten years either.
Feng Ke suddenly said softly, “I’ll say it again—the person you feel you owe has never blamed you. If that person heard this tune, they’d surely be very happy.”
The young man didn’t speak.
The jianghu was vast, heaven and earth boundless. Yet his flute music was ultimately confined to one corner. Now playing it for the clear wind to hear—could one or two notes drift to the rivers, lakes, and seas outside the imperial city?
–
Dawn.
The young Crown Prince fell into a deep and chaotic dream.
In the dream, he was still very small, running around an elegant pavilion and waterside gallery.
A gentle, graceful figure stood in the mist, carrying a basket and waving at him, mixing some affectionate colloquialisms into her words. “Good boy, little dumpling, time to eat.”
He happily rushed toward that figure.
Before reaching her, he was grabbed by the collar and lifted up. Ying Jingjue struggled to look up but couldn’t see the woman’s face or the face of the person holding him.
He struggled in the dream, breathing with difficulty as if drowning.
The person holding him spoke, seemingly very disdainful of the listless little brat in his hands. His voice had the clarity unique to youth. “Elder Sister, you and brother-in-law both look decent, and this maternal uncle of mine isn’t bad either. How is this guy so… well, never mind, I won’t say it.”
Ying Jingjue angrily flailed and cursed, but couldn’t hear what he was saying.
After he finished cursing, he cried pathetically. The youth panicked. “El-Elder Sister! Quickly comfort him!”
The gentle woman’s voice laughed gleefully but instead walked away. “You comfort him. After you’re done, come eat together. Stop running around so much. Look at you—counting up, I haven’t seen you for three months.”
“Elder Sister…”
After a while, at his wit’s end, the youth held him with a troubled expression and flew several circles around the area. Ying Jingjue found it thrilling. The three or four-year-old child clutched his little heart, eyes wide, having long forgotten how to cry.
“Little dumpling, little nephew, is it fun? I’ll teach you to fly in the future. How about calling me ‘maternal uncle’?”
He was coaxed into happiness, planted a kiss on the youth’s face, hugged the youth, and said stickily, “Maternal uncle is the best~”
Heavy fog filled the dream. He tried desperately to see the face of the person holding him clearly, but couldn’t no matter what.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince?”
“Your Highness, wake up!”
“Your Highness? Your Highness?”
Ying Jingjue’s eyes flew open. His heart raced rapidly, his eardrums throbbed, making him panic. He instinctively wiped his forehead and got a handful of cold sweat.
Looking up outside, it was already bright.
Little Zhizi exclaimed, “Your Highness, what’s wrong with you? Were you having a nightmare?”
Ying Jingjue was dazed for a moment and shook his head. “I think… I had a dream.”
Heavy fog shrouded the dream, but what happened in it—at the moment he woke, he’d forgotten it all completely.
He quickly pulled himself out of that inexplicably oppressive emotion. He’d slept at the Loyal Righteousness Marquis Manor last night. After tidying up, Ying Jingjue went to Li Ningfeng’s room.
The imperial physicians had been waiting since early morning.
Li Ningfeng was jolted awake by sheer pain. For some reason, his legs, which had felt less painful after yesterday’s medicine, today hurt as if his bones were being ground.
Never mind taking medicine—right now he couldn’t utter half a word.
Having lost so much blood, his face was flushed red—clearly he had a fever. The air was filled with the smell of rotting flesh and blood, pungent and thick, making people nauseous.
Ying Jingjue asked, “Why does it look even worse today?”
The physician hesitated. “This… this humble subject doesn’t know either. The medicine is clearly the same as yesterday. The Young Marquis shouldn’t feel pain. Perhaps, perhaps early amputation…”
Li Ningfeng forced his eyes open and said stubbornly, “No.”
Sunlight from outside shone in. Spring was deepening. The physician’s palms had broken out in a layer of sweat as he said nervously, “The weather is still considered cold now. The wounds on the Young Marquis’s legs repeatedly fester and discharge pus and blood, but it can still be controlled.”
“But if summer comes and there are more mosquitoes and insects on the Young Marquis’s legs… By then, whether the Young Marquis can accept it is one thing. Whether he can live until summer is another matter.”
The physician spoke plainly. Li Ningfeng turned his head away in silent refusal.
Ying Jingjue said, “You must reduce the pain in Ningfeng’s legs. Preserve them as long as possible. This Prince will inform Father Emperor to have you take turns staying at the Marquis Manor to care for him.”
The physician replied, “This is as it should be.”
Li Ningfeng said, “No need.”
Ying Jingjue was surprised. “What’s wrong?”
The physician perceptively withdrew.
“Your situation in the capital has finally improved somewhat. If my current condition spreads, it will be very unfavorable to you,” Li Ningfeng said in a low voice. “If physicians rotate at the Marquis Manor, it will only make people think my injury is very serious. But if they all leave, no one will keep watching here.”
Ying Jingjue asked, “At a time like this, you’re still thinking about these things?”
His tone deepened. “Right now, nothing is more important than your life!”
Li Ningfeng opened his mouth. After a long while, he said hoarsely, “Don’t let the physicians tell Father. The anesthetic isn’t working anymore. Just say I took medicine and it doesn’t hurt that much.”
Probably too weak, he hadn’t noticed someone had arrived outside.
Ying Jingjue glanced at the hem of the python robe outside and sighed inwardly. “Yes, I won’t tell the old Marquis.”
The Loyal Righteousness Marquis outside stood for quite a while. After a moment, he took out the padding cloth from the plate of a nearby servant, clumsily tied it to the bottom of his right iron leg to ensure silent footsteps, and turned to leave.
After a while, that servant came back in and pulled out a piece of padding cloth, spreading it beneath Li Ningfeng’s festering legs.
Li Ningfeng closed his eyes.
His hands clenched. After a long time, they loosened dejectedly.
–
The Nan’an cheating scandal came to a conclusion. The embezzled funds were found. Ying Jingjue didn’t mention that he’d detected Lian Shenwei’s manipulation in it.
He knew he couldn’t bring down Lian Shenwei now, so he simply converted all his emotions into a sharp blade to hide away. When he could strike, he’d deliver a fatal blow.
When he reported this matter, he connected the assassination on the night they found the embezzled funds with Li Ningfeng’s injury. His demeanor was relaxed as he requested imperial physicians to treat Li Ningfeng, as if the injury wasn’t serious at all.
Not only that—Ying Jingjue also schemed against the Third Prince both openly and covertly.
Emperor Jingcheng knew the inside story and deeply felt Ying Jingjue had grown considerably. He openly dispatched physicians for treatment and, using rewards as an excuse, once again appropriately granted the young Crown Prince some real power.
–
The investigation into Li Ningfeng’s meridian internal energy chaos was personally handled by Ying Jingjue. Court turmoil temporarily didn’t reach the Marquis Manor.
Feng Ke said it was a test, and it truly was. Illness and pain were never the most tormenting—what tormented most was the sense of helplessness within the pain.
Bit by bit watching one’s vitality drain away, being eroded by decay and darkness day and night, the omnipresent air of death winding through one’s bones and blood.
Elusive hope sometimes tormented people more than endless despair.
Days passed. Li Ningfeng had never felt time so interminable. His legs completely lost mobility. He could even clearly sense his internal energy slowly dissipating from his meridians.
His realm fell extremely fast—from the initial peak of Tianheng Realm, it had nearly dropped to Kaiyang Realm.
Watching himself become a cripple—he’d tasted that feeling—
A fate worse than death.
For a proud person, this was like breaking his spine and forcing him to wriggle on the ground like a worm.
Father, Jingjue… many people wanted to pull him up, yet he grew more listless day by day.
In desperate straits, people generate many dark emotions. These dark emotions made him involuntarily self-loathing. Li Ningfeng began refusing food and stopped speaking.
In just ten days, he became skin and bones, like an old man nearing death.
On this day, he received a letter.
It was the one he’d sent to his master over ten days ago.
The old Marquis had brought it. “This letter arrived several days ago, but I was constantly worried about you and forgot. I just remembered today.”
Li Ningfeng waited until he left, then struggled to open the envelope.
The handwriting was the same as before, except for one or two difficult characters where the brushwork showed slight tremor—
Something that had never happened before.
Master should be a swordsman. Swordsmen’s hands were always steady. Slight trembling of the brush—was he injured, or had he fallen ill?
The letter answered his questions with concise, gentle words, but added an extra sentence at the end: [Life and death are fated. Even a mayfly’s existence between heaven and earth is a life without regret. Your master’s body is healthy and doesn’t need various yang-supplementing tonics.]
Li Ningfeng inexplicably curved his lips.
He was just accustomed to saving a share of whatever good things he had for his master.
Life and death are fated. Even a mayfly’s existence between heaven and earth is a life without regret…
He silently recited this sentence.
He, Li Ningfeng, nineteen years of pride unchanged, a young general who galloped across battlefields, had once sworn while looking at snowfields and barren grasslands that he’d rather die spectacularly than live shamefully.
He didn’t want to amputate his legs and be imprisoned in one small place for life. If death was truly fated, then every day before death was his numbered time remaining in this world.
Li Ningfeng’s eyes moistened slightly as he said hoarsely, “…Someone come!”
A servant outside quickly entered.
Li Ningfeng said, “Tell Father that I’d like to have dinner with him tonight.”
–
The next day, when Lian Shenwei returned from court, he heard from Ming Zhu that the Young Marquis had rallied.
Ming Zhu excelled at stealth. These past days, she’d been watching around the Marquis Manor for him, focusing on whether there were any suspicious people. Of course, she’d also quietly recorded Li Ningfeng’s every move.
Lian Shenwei changed clothes and smiled. “Feng Ke, are you satisfied now?”
“…” Feng Ke said coldly, “As long as you’re satisfied. What’s it to me?”
Knowing he couldn’t stop Lian Shenwei, he’d used these days to develop three medicinal formulas. One was for the boy surnamed Li to use alongside treatment. Another he’d grind into pills, removing certain components, for Lian Shenwei to replenish blood.
The last one was medicine that could reduce how much blood Lian Shenwei needed to give.
However, it had some side effects—the boy surnamed Li would inevitably suffer a bit.
Lian Shenwei asked, “When do we start?”
“Fine,” Feng Ke had calmed down considerably. “If you’re eager to reincarnate, you still need a proper reason, right? You also need to give me a legitimate identity. Otherwise, why would they trust me?”
Countless people in the jianghu sought Feng family heirs. He couldn’t appear here under the Feng family name—partly because he found it troublesome, and partly because of Lian Shenwei.
In earlier years, though Lian Shenwei traveled the jianghu mostly with his face veiled by a hat, there was no guarantee some old jianghu friends wouldn’t recognize him. If discovered, that would really be entertaining.
Lian Shenwei said, “Don’t worry. He’ll believe you.”
–
Another five days passed.
A strange person wearing a wooden mask came to the Loyal Righteousness Marquis Manor, claiming to be a friend of the Young Marquis’s master, here to deliver a letter.
Li Ningfeng read the letter. It contained only two brief sentences:
[I know your recent situation. Fu Biao is your master’s friend, with superb medical skills. Perhaps worth trying. Note: Fu Biao has an eccentric temperament—follow his wishes.]
After reading, Li Ningfeng already believed most of it. He looked up. “You…”
Feng Ke glanced at him coolly. “I am Fu Biao.”
Fu Biao—meaning swift wind.
Blow you dead, you little brat.
The old Marquis also read the letter. He knew his son had such a master.
Especially since Ningfeng’s master’s handwriting was carefree—every time he saw it, he could recall the letter from that righteous jianghu figure he’d received at the frontier three years ago.
Though the handwriting differed somewhat, overall it was quite similar. Observing characters reveals character—presumably both were honorable people.
The old Marquis immediately grasped this last lifeline. “Please, Master Fu Biao, provide treatment!”
Feng Ke avoided his bow, adhering to Feng family rules, coldly and distantly. “Until the patient is cured, I don’t accept bows. Old Marquis, please leave first.”
The old Marquis quickly cleared a space convenient for treatment.
Feng Ke understood Li Ningfeng’s leg condition well. After carefully examining and finding no other sudden developments, he carefully took out a jar of blood from the wooden box he carried.
A servant fetched a bucket of hot water at his instruction.
The bucket was deep enough to submerge the calves.
Feng Ke scattered medicinal ingredients into it, speaking concisely. “Soak.”
The water was still scalding hot.
Li Ningfeng didn’t hesitate. He struggled to support himself on the bed edge and placed his legs inside. His face instantly turned pale.
Feng Ke poured out a small cup from the jar of blood, then dumped all the rest into the bucket.
The next second, Li Ningfeng felt something frantically tearing and biting at his legs. The water in the bucket emitted a strong bloody smell mixed with the scent of decay and medicinal fragrance—vaguely sinister.
Li Ningfeng looked at the jar in his hand. “What’s inside this is…?”
Feng Ke sneered coldly. “Human blood.”
Seeing Li Ningfeng’s expression change abruptly, he slowly added, “A medicine person’s blood.”
Li Ningfeng asked, “Medicine person?”
He seemed to have vaguely heard this term somewhere.
“Don’t know? Let me explain,” Feng Ke said slowly. “A medicine person is someone who’s continuously fed poison, given antidotes, fed poison again, has their meridians cut open, and has some lovely little things put inside… Those who successfully survive—their blood becomes the most precious medicine.”
“Medicine people are also ranked. What you’re using is naturally of the highest quality.”
Actually, the Feng family also had medicine people—all purchased. If they didn’t buy them, others would. There were even plenty of people who couldn’t survive otherwise who actively wanted to be refined into medicine people.
In medical families like theirs, medicine people had other names—blood livestock, blood slaves. They weren’t considered human anymore—extremely lowly.
When Feng Ke first discovered Lian Shenwei had been refined into a medicine person, his anger was imaginable. Later, he gradually calmed down and stopped thinking in that direction.
But last night, seeing Lian Shenwei put blood into the small jar, his complexion gradually paling—the bit of living vitality he’d finally cultivated hadn’t been warm for a few days before it dissipated in the blink of an eye.
Though he knew the meaning and purpose were different, Feng Ke unavoidably recalled scenes of medicine people in the Feng family giving blood—
In the education he’d received since childhood, this was a form of cheapening one’s own body.
He couldn’t associate words like “blood livestock” and “blood slaves”—terms denoting base filth—with that tall, elegant youth who once swept swords and played flutes.
Feng Ke couldn’t control his anger. A breath stuck in his chest, blocking him until he nearly vomited blood.
For some reason, Li Ningfeng heard traces of anger in Master Fu Biao’s tone.
He remembered where he’d heard the term “medicine person.” During the High Ancestor’s reign, obsessed with alchemy, he’d kept medicine people, using their blood in medicines. Seeing no results, he died suddenly.
Hearing such a detailed explanation of medicine people for the first time, Li Ningfeng found it extremely cruel. Yet this was also what would save his life. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
Feng Ke glanced at him, reading his thoughts about seventy or eighty percent. “Don’t overthink it, and don’t ask randomly. Don’t violate jianghu rules. Otherwise, your master will be in a difficult position.”
Li Ningfeng’s heart grew solemn, and he stopped thinking about it.
Cold sweat poured from his body layer upon layer. He said weakly, “Master Fu Biao, can my legs still be saved?”
Feng Ke replied, “Yes.”
His tone was too indifferent, which instead made Li Ningfeng freeze.
This Master Fu Biao stared at him. The mockery in his eyes faded, and his gaze became dark and cold.
Feng Ke said, “You’d better remember forever that it was your master who had me save you.”
Lian Shenwei’s current identity placed him on the opposing side from Li Ningfeng. However, he didn’t care about such things. If one day this boy did something treacherous to his master or wronged his childhood friend—
He was slightly older than Lian Shenwei and wouldn’t mind invoking his position as an elder to ensure this boy’s legs could never stand again.
Li Ningfeng hadn’t yet recovered from the news that his legs could be restored when he instinctively composed himself and said solemnly, “Master’s great kindness—Li Ningfeng will never forget it!”
***
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wannaberecluse On SRTT Chapter 50.1