The mist thickened as they ascended the narrow ridge trail, curling like ghostly fingers around Mei Lin's boots. Jun kept pace beside her, his breath steady despite the weight of his satchel and the climb. The sky had yet to bleed into dawn; only the dim light of a waning moon lit their path.
Mei Lin hadn't spoken since they left the village.
Not that Jun expected her to. She moved with her usual quiet resolve, eyes scanning the forest edges as though cataloging every rustle, every unfamiliar scent on the wind.
Her cloak whispered with each step, and Jun could hear the faint clinking of glass vials hidden within.
Still, the silence sat differently today.
Not tense—just… heavy. Like something unspoken walked with them.
They crested a slope, and below, a faint glimmer appeared through the trees: the river crossing. The bridge lay half-hidden in fog, its wooden slats slick with dew.
Jun broke the quiet first. "We'll reach the outer farms by nightfall, if we don't stop."
Mei Lin gave a small nod, eyes still forward. "We won't stop."
He hesitated. "Even if the rain comes?"
"We've weathered worse."
Of course they had. But Dawan City wasn't just another village needing fever balm or sprain wraps. Whatever was happening there, it had already spread faster than most sicknesses Jun had read about.
"Do you think it's the blood fever?" he asked.
"No," she replied without pause. "Blood fever doesn't carry through air. This one… sounds airborne."
Jun's stomach tightened.
"And if it is?" he asked.
"Then we'll treat what we can and stop it from reaching the north."
Her certainty was terrifying and comforting all at once.
They reached the bridge, boots echoing softly against the wood. Mei Lin's steps slowed just slightly as she looked out over the water—black and rippling beneath the mist. Jun followed her gaze.
"Do you think they'll quarantine the city?" he asked.
"If they're smart, they already have."
"And if they haven't?"
She looked at him, finally. Her face unreadable. "Then Dawan is already a graveyard. They just don't know it yet."
---
The red sun cracked over the horizon just as the stone archway of the Red Willow Gate came into view.
There, waiting under its curved roof with a cane in one hand and a scarf pulled high against the morning chill, stood Dr. Ansel Liu—the herbalist Mei Lin had corresponded with years ago, and a respected physician in the Southern Provinces.
He lowered his scarf and gave a half-smile. "You took the mountain path. I told the soldiers you'd be too stubborn for the main road."
Mei Lin inclined her head in greeting. "You know me well, Doctor Liu."
Jun bowed quickly, breathing harder than he wanted to show. "Thank you for waiting."
"No time for pleasantries," Ansel said, already turning on his heel. "Dawan's worse than you've heard."
---
By mid-morning, they entered the outskirts of Dawan City.
What once had been a thriving city of tiled rooftops, bustling markets, and laughing children now lay under a thin veil of silence. Banners hung limp above shuttered doors. Ashy incense smoke clung to every corner.
The illness hadn't just taken lives—it had stolen the sound from the city.
Along the main thoroughfare, makeshift tents lined the stone walls, where coughing men and moaning children lay on reed mats.
The air was thick with the stench of sweat, sickness, and desperation. The disease presented in odd ways—first with bleeding gums, then blotchy skin, followed by fever, disorientation, and collapse.
"It moves too fast," Ansel muttered as they passed the tents. "One day they're walking, the next—they forget their own names."
Inside a central infirmary set up in a temple courtyard, Mei Lin went straight to work. She washed and bound the worst wounds, administered boiled herbal tinctures, and applied salves where she could.
The people watched her with glassy, helpless eyes—yet in her movements, there was order. Control. Even as her hands trembled faintly beneath her sleeves.
She could not afford to let fear in.
Not now.
---
Later that evening, as the light outside turned copper and the monks began lighting lanterns around the courtyard, Mei Lin stepped outside to catch her breath.
Just beyond the entry, a few townsfolk huddled by a cooking fire.
"…He came down from the capital himself."
"I heard it was the Ministry of Health that sent him. Said only Shen Liyan had the authority and skill."
"I saw him at the south gate this morning—he looked like something out of the old tales. They say he's already stabilized the lower district."
Mei Lin froze.
The ladle in her hand slipped, clattering onto the steps. One of the townspeople looked up, startled, but Mei Lin quickly turned away.
Shen Liyan was here.
In this city.
Now.
She stepped deeper into the shadows of the temple's rear garden, heart hammering wildly. She had come here to save lives—not face ghosts. And yet, somehow, fate had brought them onto the same road again.
Jun called softly from behind her, "Mei Lin? What's wrong?"
But she didn't answer.
She stood very still, her back pressed to the cold stone wall, eyes fixed on the path beyond the archway.
She somehow survived.
And now…
Now he was close enough to touch.