Physician Zhou quickly acquiesced and stepped forward. He kept his eyes downcast, but by chance, he saw Huo Wujiu impassively lift his gaze and cast an unreadable glance at His Highness.
Just as Huo Wujiu was about to look away, something seemed to lure his attention, and he faltered slightly before he glanced at His Highness again.
Physician Zhou would have continued watching, but out of nowhere, he found himself the next target of those fierce, intimidating eyes.
Huo Wujiu had noticed his observations.
Even though those eyes were listless and unfocused, they still caused Physician Zhou to quiver in fear. He immediately looked away and walked primly over to Huo Wujiu. There, he set down the medicine chest and began examining him respectfully.
Jiang Suizhou sat back down.
To his side, Meng Qianshan proficiently refilled his cup with hot tea. He held the cup by Jiang Suizhou’s hand and hesitated for a moment.
“Where will Your Highness be spending the night?” he asked tentatively.
Madam Huo certainly wouldn’t be able to serve His Highness tonight in this condition. Moreover, he had a fever, and His Highness was susceptible to illness. What if the sickness spread to His Highness; what would they do then?
Jiang Suizhou gazed at Physician Zhou and didn’t answer.
When Meng Qianshan saw that Jiang Suizhou didn’t intend to respond, he waited quietly to the side and didn’t press the issue.
A short while later, Physician Zhou turned around and knelt in front of Jiang Suizhou.
“Your Highness, Madam Huo is currently afflicted with a high fever, due to inflammation from his injuries,” he reported in a rush. “Madam has had a fever for some time, actually, but he is quite good at enduring. Madam was grievously injured to begin with, and if he is not treated with haste, it may become life-threatening!”
“Is it that severe?” Jiang Suizhou asked, his brow wrinkling.
Physician Zhou nodded.
“Your humble servant will prepare the medicine at once, as well as change the dressing for Madam Huo momentarily. So long as the fever is brought down in a timely manner, there will be no lasting damage.”
“Meng Qianshan will prepare the medicine,” Jiang Suizhou said, and he dipped his head. “Go change his dressing now.”
Physician Zhou swiftly assented.
Cradling his own cheek in hand, Jiang Suizhou tipped his head and looked back at Huo Wujiu.
Although Huo Wujiu still sat upright, he had already lost consciousness from the fever. His eyes, which had been shooting daggers at everyone in sight earlier, were now gently closed.
The physician carefully removed the bandages to clean the wounds. Fresh blood had soaked into the cloth, causing them to cling to the flesh underneath. As the physician meticulously pulled away the dressing, it inevitably tugged at the wounds.
Above Huo Wujiu’s closed eyes, his eyebrows were tightly furrowed. He pressed his lips together, holding back any sound of pain or surprise that might try to escape. The only indication that he was actually in any agony came from the way that his brows trembled when the bandages were torn away.
Abruptly, a childhood memory resurfaced in Jiang Suizhou’s thoughts.
While living with his father, one of his younger half brothers pushed him down the stairs, and he twisted his ankle as a result. Since his mother had been quite depressed at the time and was always crying, he didn’t dare let her find out. He ended up hobbling back to his room for the night without speaking a word of it to anyone. Though he tried to read to take his mind off of it, it couldn’t divert his attention.
He keenly remembered how it felt to endure that pain all alone, with nothing but his books.
But this had already become routine for Huo Wujiu: a grim reality of life that was carved into his very bones.
Jiang Suizhou couldn’t stop his gaze from lingering on Huo Wujiu. His entire body was covered in overlapping wounds, most of them quite deep and stained with fresh blood.
How much pain must he have been in?
Jiang Suizhou watched in silence as Physician Zhou cleaned Huo Wujiu’s wounds and wrapped them in fresh bandages before helping him lie down on the bed. Then the physician approached Jiang Suizhou and knelt to give his report.
“Your Highness, the dressing has been changed. After this, the madam only has to take his medicine. Cold washcloths should be applied regularly to lower his temperature, but once the fever subsides, he will be out of harm’s way.”
With a nod, Jiang Suizhou gestured for him to proceed.
The physician rushed off to prepare the washcloth. Not long after he placed it on Huo Wujiu’s forehead, Meng Qianshan returned with the medicine. He handed it to Physician Zhou and obediently returned to Jiang Suizhou’s side.
“Your Highness, it’s getting quite late. Why don’t you head back to Anyin Hall and get some rest?”
Jiang Suizhou did not respond immediately. Perceptive as ever, Meng Qianshan noticed that he was still watching Huo Wujiu.
“If Your Highness is concerned, your servant will leave some people here to keep watch,” he added quietly.
Jiang Suizhou hesitated.
He knew that Huo Wujiu wasn’t going to die from this, of course. There wasn’t anything to worry about.
But he realized that he was less concerned about the actual outcome than he was with Huo Wujiu’s current conditions. He couldn’t help but think of the Huo Wujiu in the history books, who had pushed through this all on his own, with no one to treat his wounds or change his dressings. How many days and nights of torment did he bear in order to seize his own life back from the jaws of death?
Perhaps because Jiang Suizhou knew what it felt like to suffer all by himself during a sickness or injury, he suddenly found himself a little reluctant to leave.
“Bring me a book,” he said finally, his tone even.
Meng Qianshan was so taken aback that he spoke without thinking.
“Your Highness, are you planning to stay…”
Jiang Suizhou shot a look at Meng Qianshan, cutting off the rest of his sentence. Meng Qianshan nodded meekly and left to find a book.
✦ ✦ ✦
When Huo Wujiu awoke, it was already well past midnight.
As he slowly opened his eyes, he sensed something resting on his forehead. He snatched the object away from his skin and saw that it was a washcloth drenched in cold water.
He frowned.
Sometime in the afternoon, he had started to run a temperature. That in itself wasn’t unusual; he had been injured frequently on the battlefield, and he had occasionally developed fevers from those injuries as well, but he always recovered after getting some sleep.
He dimly recalled that the Prince of Jing had stopped by sometime in the evening. Before Huo Wujiu could figure out what the prince’s intentions were, he’d passed out from the fever.
Huo Wujiu lifted his hand again and brushed his forehead.
It was cool to the touch.
Even though he was now alert and clearheaded, he was struck by a rather strong feeling of unreality.
He was a prisoner of war, captured by the enemy nation, and he’d been sent to the Prince of Jing’s residence to be used as a means of humiliation. Yet here he was, lying peacefully on a bed, his injuries bandaged cleanly and neatly. There was a cool washcloth on his forehead and a medicinal scent wafting through the air.
It should’ve smelled bitter, but it only added to the air of steady tranquility.
He was born in a border pass on the frontier. Tough and tenacious, he could withstand almost any hardship or beating. Never in his life had anyone cared for him like this before.
Huo Wujiu looked to the side.
There was a person sitting nearby, surrounded by dusky lamplight.
The Prince of Jing held a book in one hand as it rested against his knees, while the other hand propped up his sagging head. He was already fast asleep. His eyes, usually frosty and contemptuous, were concealed by his exceptionally long eyelashes. One side of his face was bathed in the soft, gentle lamplight.
Huo Wujiu’s breath caught ever so slightly in his throat as he came to a distinct, sudden realization.
This person had been watching over him.