The scent of burning herbs wafted through the narrow corridors of the temporary healer's ward as Shen Liyan strode in.
The flickering lamplight revealed weary faces, pale with fatigue and worry. He moved past the beds, eyes scanning the veiled figures of healers tending to the sick, each dressed in white linen masks and robes.
He had been restless all day, haunted by the familiarity of one healer—the one with the steady hands and quiet gaze that lingered longer than the others.
He turned a corner and froze.
There she was.
Not behind a veil.
For a fleeting moment, Mei Lin had removed her mask to drink water, wiping her sweat-drenched brow. Her hair had loosened from its bun, tendrils curling against her cheek. Shen Liyan's breath caught. His heart thundered.
"Mei Lin..."
Her eyes widened at the sound of her name on his lips. She turned sharply, about to speak—but before either of them could say a word, a shrill cry echoed through the ward.
"The southern quarter—the patients are collapsing again! Their pulses are failing!"
Chaos broke out instantly. Shen Liyan instinctively stepped forward to shield Mei Lin, but she had already pushed past him.
"No time," she said. "Follow me if you want to help."
Shen Liyan obeyed.
---
The southern ward was overwhelmed. Patients who had been stable now convulsed with fevers, their lips blue, their breathing shallow. A pungent, metallic scent clung to the air—the disease had grown fangs.
Mei Lin moved quickly, her eyes sharp with focus. "Boil all the instruments again! Increase the dosage of the golden root. And keep the ventilation open!" she barked at the younger healers.
She barely noticed Shen Liyan helping lift the collapsed patients, or how he brought order among panicking soldiers by simply standing firm. Together, they worked in sync—yet said nothing.
For days, they barely spoke. Glances were exchanged like stolen moments in a battlefield. He watched her treating burns on a child's skin with infinite gentleness; she watched him carry the sick with quiet strength and endure sleepless nights without a word of complaint.
But always, just as he stepped closer, she would pull away.
---
On the fifth day, Mei Lin found the answer.
It came to her like a whisper in a dream, after hours bent over maps of the affected quarters, patient reports, and herb interactions.
"The well," she whispered.
A contaminated water source. That explained the sudden spike, the recurrence, and why only certain districts were hit. Shen Liyan quickly dispatched soldiers to close off the well and bring clean water from mountain springs.
"We should've seen it sooner," Mei Lin murmured.
"We saw it now," Shen Liyan said, his voice low. "Because of you."
She turned to him, eyes shining with exhaustion and relief. For a heartbeat, they said nothing. Only the sound of night insects and the rustling of lanterns filled the silence between them.
But then, she looked away.
---
As the days passed and patients began to recover, the ward softened. The scent of despair slowly faded, replaced by herbal teas and soft conversations. Children sat up in bed, elders smiled weakly in thanks. The crisis had not passed completely, but hope had taken root.
So had something else.
Each night, Shen Liyan would linger a little longer in the ward. Watching Mei Lin grind herbs. Watching her laugh quietly with a little girl who gave her a hand-drawn flower. And each night, Mei Lin would feel his presence, like the warmth of a fire she could not sit beside.
He spoke more often now.
"You haven't slept again."
"Neither have you," she would reply.
"You used to hum when you worked. I remember."
Her hands would still at those words. And her heart would hurt.
She reminded herself: He's married now.
Shen Liyan was no longer hers.
He never was, she would remind herself. Not truly.
---
One evening, after treating the last of the day's patients, Mei Lin stood by the window of the ward. The moon hung low, silver and sad.
She felt him before she heard him.
"Do you regret it?" he asked softly.
She didn't turn.
"Regret what?"
"Leaving."
She closed her eyes. "Do you regret letting me go?"
He didn't answer.
The silence said enough.
When she finally turned to face him, there was a strange peace in her eyes. "We did what we had to. For the country. For your family. And now... we do what we must again."
His jaw tightened. He wanted to reach for her. He wanted to say he remembered. That she had been more than just a shadow in his past. That her touch still lingered on his skin like a scar and a balm all at once.
But her expression stopped him.
Distant. Kind. But guarded.
---
That night, Shen Liyan returned to his tent and found sleep impossible.
He remembered her laughter from years ago. The way she used to chase fireflies in the garden. The tears she never let fall the day he left. He remembered more than he dared admit.
Outside, the lanterns flickered in the breeze. In the healer's ward, Mei Lin sat with her back straight, watching over a young boy whose fever had finally broken.
In another life, she might've leaned against his shoulder.
In this one, she would not.
But perhaps, in stolen glances and long silences, something could still grow.
Something quieter. Sadder. But still real.