The evening breeze whipped past the men gathered at Yan Zhanjin's gate. The tension was palpable; cold stares were exchanged, and the martial artists and Zhu Mingyang were poised to attack if a single move was made. In stark contrast, Yan Zhanjin stood perfectly still, his presence utterly devoid of threat.
Zhu Mingyang felt a familiar cold knot tighten in his stomach. He stared icily at Cao Wenyan, recognizing the pure, imminent danger; he knew from experience that whenever the leader of the Beixing Sect appeared, it was never for a good reason.
Yan Zhanjin remained unperturbed. He met Cao Wenyan's gaze with calm neutrality and asked, "What can I do for you?"
Cao Wenyan offered a smooth, disarming smile. "I want to invite you to my house as a guest."
Yan Zhanjin's own smile was slight, a thin line of skepticism. "What if I refuse the invitation?"
Cao Wenyan's mask cracked, and the raw threat emerged. "If Yan Yisheng doesn't agree, then I will force you."
Yan Zhanjin's composure did not waver. "You must tell me the reason," he pressed, demanding information before committing to the dangerous trip.
Cao Wenyan sighed, a gesture of faux-apology. "I need you to heal a person for me."
"Who?"
"You will know when you arrive," Cao Wenyan replied, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. "I do apologize, it is inconvenient for me to tell you right now. This is not just for your safety, but also for the safety of the patient."
Yan Zhanjin tried one last, humble protest. "Childe Cao, I'm just an ordinary doctor. I'm afraid that I won't be able to help much. I can only repair broken bones, cuts, and burns. I'm afraid it will be a waste of your time."
A flicker of genuine amusement crossed Cao Wenyan's face. "As a disciple of Chen Fa," he stated, revealing his thorough research and ending the argument, "I believe you can treat more than just broken bones, cuts, and burns." He smiled, an assurance of fair dealing. "If you go to check the patient and still cannot help, I will still reward you."
Yan Zhanjin attempted one final, humble deflection. "That's all I can do, and I can't do much. If you don't believe me, you can ask the villagers here."
Cao Wenyan's patience snapped. "Since you strongly refuse my invitation, please forgive me." He took a decisive step back and barked the command: "Catch him."
The five-color mice immediately scrambled over the fence. Red Mice lunged for Yan Zhanjin, but Zhu Mingyang moved with lightning speed, grabbing Red Mice's outstretched hand and slamming a fierce fist toward his left shoulder. Red Mice managed to block the blow with his left arm, but the sheer power of Zhu Mingyang's strike sent the martial artist flying, slamming him against the bamboo fence with a splintering impact.
The remaining four mice instantly shifted their focus, attacking Zhu Mingyang in a coordinated rush. This distraction was precisely what Cao Wenyan needed. He flew over the struggling men, seized Yan Zhanjin, and, as the doctor was being dragged away, sent two powder balls hurtling toward Zhu Mingyang. The five colored mice quickly turned tail and escaped, disappearing into the twilight with their leader and their captive.
Inside the Gu Manor, Gu Yingjie and Yuan Chaomei were sitting together in the quiet backyard of the Gu mansion. He raised his teacup for a drink, but the cup was empty. Operating purely on instinct, he commanded, "Mingyang, bring more tea." He set the empty cup back down.
Yuan Chaomei spoke softly, breaking the spell of habit. "Yingjie, Mingyang is no longer there."
Gu Yingjie's eyes widened slightly in sudden recollection. He let out a heavy sigh, a sound of deep, resigned regret. "I am so used to having him by my side," he murmured. "I have forgotten that he is no longer the guard of the Gu Household."
Just then, Lin Ruchao walked into the backyard, his presence signaling duty. He stood beside Gu Yingjie and bowed. "Young master, Chief Gu has some records for you to go over. They are now in your study."
Gu Yingjie nodded, forcing himself to focus on the present duty. "I'll look at the record first, see you at lunch."
Yuan Chaomei smiled gently, offering silent support. "Go."
Gu Yingjie stretched out his hand, and Lin Ruchao immediately took it. The two walked carefully back to the study room. Lin Ruchao guided Gu Yingjie to his customary seat and saw him settled. The assistant then reached for a bamboo scroll, ready to begin reading the day's records, but Gu Yingjie subtly stopped him with a raised hand.
"Guard Lin, I'm a little dizzy and want to take a break," Gu Yingjie lied smoothly, leaning back. "I'll let you know when I want you to read this to me."
"I should leave and let you rest then," Lin Ruchao replied instantly. He walked out and closed the door softly behind him.
Gu Yingjie sat rigid in his chair, straining his ears, listening intently until he was certain Lin Ruchao's footsteps had faded completely. Only when the silence of the study was absolute did he let out a ragged sigh. "Mingyang, you can come out."
Zhu Mingyang emerged slowly from behind the large picture panel near the wall.
Gu Yingjie's eyes were instantly wetted with tears. He didn't hesitate; he shoved himself out of the chair, rushed forward, and pulled Zhu Mingyang into a desperate hug. He buried his face against the guard's chest and sobbed, the weight of his loneliness and fear finally breaking free in Zhu Mingyang's arms.
"Mingyang, are you back?" Gu Yingjie choked out, clinging to him desperately.
"Yingjie, you shouldn't cry," Zhu Mingyang murmured, the words gentle but his arms remaining stiff.
"Mingyang, do you know that since you were gone, I think about you every day," Gu Yingjie pleaded, pulling back just enough to look at the guard's face. "Please don't leave me again."
Zhu Mingyang gently placed his hands on Gu Yingjie's shoulders to create distance. "Yingjie, you shouldn't cry. I'm here to get my sword. I forgot to bring my sword when I left."
"Mingyang, stay with me," Gu Yingjie whispered, tears still streaming.
Zhu Mingyang saw his sword resting conspicuously on Gu Yingjie's desk. He firmly pulled Gu Yingjie out of his arms, stepped away, and walked to the desk to retrieve the blade. Clasping the hilt, he turned back to the young master one last time.
"I'm leaving."
Gu Yingjie acted purely on instinct, reaching out and frantically grabbing Zhu Mingyang's hand. "Mingyang, tell me what I need to do to keep you by my side!"
Zhu Mingyang did not soften. He held Gu Yingjie's wrist with his own hand and gave him the only condition that mattered. "If you want to stay by my side, then leave with me."
Gu Yingjie's face crumpled, the simple demand proving impossible. "I can't. Chaomei is pregnant."
Zhu Mingyang simply pulled his hand free. The final, painful reality settled between them. "Then I will never be by your side." He swiftly carried the sword onto his back.
He paused at the door, delivering his last words—a gift of peaceful clarity. "Yingjie, I want you to know that I have been living a happy life for the past few months. The life I chose is simple, but I can sleep all night with my eyes closed completely. Although I only sleep in a bed made from a couple of bamboo sticks, I can dream. The food is plain, with only salt, but the taste is far more delicious."
Gu Yingjie watched him, his face twisting with heartbreak. "Mingyang, is this the life you truly want? How about being the best guard in the Gu family?" he asked sadly, appealing to the ambition he'd once relied on.
Zhu Mingyang turned back to face him, his eyes now blazing with a devastating mix of sorrow and clarity. "I wanted to be the best guard of the Gu Household because I love you," he declared, his voice cracking. "But then I realized that no matter how much I loved you and how hard I tried to do everything for you, in the end, I am still a servant and you are the master."
His control shattered. Tears burst from his eyes, streaming down his face. "I didn't want to leave you, but you drove me away step by step until I realized that I was nothing but a guard!" He took a shuddering breath, the depth of his humiliation finally spoken. "Do you know how painful it is to stand outside and guard the door when you are sleeping with another person who isn't me?"
Gu Yingjie stood frozen, unable to utter a defense, his silence confirming the truth of Zhu Mingyang's agonizing accusation.
Zhu Mingyang gritted his teeth, his voice shaking with fierce jealousy and pain. "I should be the one holding you on the bed, not someone named Yuan Chaomei! Do you know how painful it is to watch you hold someone else's hand? When that hand should only be held by me." He let out a profound, despairing sigh. "Yingjie, you don't know, because we are not the same. Your definition of love is different from mine."
Gu Yingjie finally managed a broken whisper. "Mingyang, I'm sorry."
"Yingjie, I don't blame you," Zhu Mingyang said, the tears now mingling with a devastating clarity. "Maybe from start to finish, I'm the only one who truly thought there was something between us that surpassed us from being master and guard. Maybe you held onto me from the beginning because I was someone you could rely on. But now there are many people you can rely on. Your father-in-law, your grandfather's old guard, and your father. You don't need me anymore."
He turned sharply, casting one last look at the study and the man he loved. "Goodbye, Yingjie."
Zhu Mingyang ripped the door open and flew away quickly, disappearing into the confines of the manor, leaving nothing behind but the echoing silence of the shattered relationship.
He was unable to see, for Yan Zhanjin had been blindfolded for the duration of the journey. He could only feel the passage of time by the constant motion, knowing they had been walking for a long time.
The two men holding his arms suddenly stopped. A moment later, Cao Wenyan took off the blindfold. When Yan Zhanjin opened his eyes, he blinked against the sudden light, taking in the sight of a beautiful house nestled deep within a secluded wood. The air of quiet luxury and intense privacy told him immediately that this was not the bustling Beixing Sect.
"Childe Cao," Yan Zhanjin stated, his deduction sharp and immediate, "the injured person is not Chief Cao?"
Cao Wenyan offered a small, knowing smile. "No. My father is actually practicing in seclusion now."
"Then who is it?" Yan Zhanjin pressed, his calm demeanor finally showing a flicker of urgency.
Cao Wenyan turned his head, his smile vanishing, replaced by a cold intensity that sent a chill down the doctor's spine. "You'll know when you get there." His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Yan yisheng, I must warn you. You can never tell anyone who you meet today. If you do tell, I will kill your shimei."
The blatant threat immediately confirmed Yan Zhanjin's suspicions. "That person must be very important," he observed, his voice now entirely serious. "Otherwise, Childe Cao would not protect that person to such a degree."
Cao Wenyan shrugged, resuming his easy manner. "Let's just say, that person is someone you and I shouldn't mess with." He gestured toward the house with a sweeping hand. "Please... this way."
Yan Zhanjin followed Cao Wenyan toward the house. They stopped before a large bedroom where ten armed guards stood sentinel. When the guards saw Cao Wenyan, they silently stepped aside. Yan Zhanjin's heart rate quickened. He knew he was about to meet the injured person Cao Wenyan cared so much about—and who posed a terrifying threat to his own peaceful life.
Yan Zhanjin and Cao Wenyan stopped just outside the bedroom door. Two maids walked past them, and Yan Zhanjin's gaze snagged on the basin one of them carried: the water was starkly mixed with blood.
"How is he?" Cao Wenyan demanded, his voice tight with genuine worry.
The maid bowed quickly. "Young master, he's vomiting blood again."
Cao Wenyan didn't wait for permission; he rushed into the room, a sudden emotional urgency that greatly surprised Yan Zhanjin. The doctor knew Cao Wenyan was a ruthless man from their past encounter at Sword Village, yet he cared so intensely about this injured person. This confirmed the patient's immense importance.
Yan Zhanjin hurriedly followed. As soon as he entered the large bedroom, he saw the ultimate, unexpected detail: Cao Wenyan was seated beside the bed, desperately holding the man's hand. Before Yan Zhanjin could advance further, two burly guards stepped forward, blocking his path to the patient.
Cao Wenyan leaned over the bed, his voice softening with genuine tenderness. "How are you feeling?"
The man on the bed replied in a weak, labored voice. "You are back."
"I brought a doctor here today," Cao Wenyan announced, turning toward Yan Zhanjin. "He is a disciple of Chen Fa, who can help you." He then addressed the doctor. "Yan Yisheng, please come and examine him."
The two guards immediately stepped aside. Yan Zhanjin walked quickly to the bedside. The moment he looked down, his breath hitched. Lying pale and frail on the silken sheets was Mu Dishi.
Yan Zhanjin, thinking the man had perished in the fire long ago, reacted instinctively. He rushed to the bedside and immediately reached out to grasp Mu Dishi's pulse. A turbulent mix of happiness—that Mu Dishi was alive—and profound worry—that he was so gravely injured and captive to Cao Wenyan—flooded his mind.
Yan Zhanjin stared at the pale face of the man on the bed, his voice tight with shock. "Mu Dishi... How could he be alive? I saw him fall into the fire with Mo Ehuang."
Cao Wenyan simply stated, "I saved him."
Yan Zhanjin forced himself to pull away from the pulse, regaining his professional composure. He looked at Cao Wenyan. "Childe Cao, I can try to save him, but I can't assure you that he will be completely healed." He stepped back from the bed, establishing a necessary distance.
Cao Wenyan got up and walked quickly to Yan Zhanjin's side. He leaned in close, ensuring that Mu Dishi could not possibly hear, and whispered softly into the doctor's right ear:
"If you can't cure him, then you die with him."