Location: A small, dimly lit room in a secluded inn.
The adrenaline that had turned Lusi into a whirlwind of lethal precision had evaporated, leaving behind a profound, trembling silence in the small inn room. The only light came from a single lantern, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to flinch away from the two figures within.
Feng sat on the edge of the narrow bed, his shoulders slumped not from weariness, but from the slow, dawning shock of what had just transpired. The cold grip of the ropes still seemed to bite into his wrists, a phantom pain. He could still smell the stale breath of his captors, see the glint of the knife at his throat.
And then he saw her. Not the girl by the river, not the practical travel guide, but a specter of vengeance silhouetted against the moon. The memory was not one of fear, but of awe. The fluid, terrifying grace of her movements. The cold finality in her eyes before she ended the man who had threatened him.
A shiver ran through him, unrelated to the chill of the night.
"Take off your top."
Her voice was soft, but it made him startle. It was the same voice that had argued about travel routes and noodles, now layered with a new, unshakeable calm.
He turned his head to look at her. She was standing by a small table, her back to him as she prepared something from a pouch. Her twin swords, now clean, lay beside her, their blades reflecting the lantern light—a silent testament to their recent use.
"Huh?" he managed, his mind still struggling to catch up.
"To apply medicine," she said, turning around. In her hands, she held a small ceramic jar of salve and a clean cloth. Her expression was focused, professional. "You're bleeding."
"Oh." The word was hollow. Mechanically, his fingers fumbled with the ties of his torn and dirty outer robe, then the inner tunic. He winced as the fabric pulled away from the wound on his back, a deep, angry gash from the hilt of a knife or a careless blade.
He felt the dip of the bed as she sat behind him. Her touch, when it came, was cool and sure. The salve was pungent with the smell of herbs and something slightly metallic. He flinched at its first touch, then forced himself to relax as she began to work it gently into the wound.
"Don't worry," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. "I am quite good with medicine."
The statement was so simple, so devoid of boastfulness, that it was utterly believable. This was just another skill in her vast and surprising repertoire.
"I don't know about medicine," Feng said, his own voice rough. He stared at the opposite wall, seeing nothing. "You were pretty good with your swords."
He heard her give a soft, almost silent laugh behind him. It was a breath of air, a release of tension. "Hhh, it's nothing."
The simple dismissal of what he had witnessed as 'nothing' was staggering. For him, it had been a life-altering event. For her, it seemed to be a Tuesday.
A comfortable silence fell between them, filled only with the sound of their breathing and the faint, rhythmic sound of her applying the salve. The intimacy of the moment was profound. Here he was, a prince, shirtless in a dingy room, being tended to by the daughter of the Military Minister who had just slaughtered five men to save him. The absurdity of it all should have been overwhelming. Instead, it felt… peaceful.
The question that had been burning in his chest since she cut his bonds finally fought its way to his lips. It was quiet, vulnerable, and hung in the air between them.
"Why did you save me?"
Her hands stilled for a fraction of a second on his back, then continued their work, a little slower now.
Her answer, when it came, was not whispered. It was clear, simple, and honest. It held no hidden meaning, no political calculation, no expectation of reward.
"Because you are my friend."
Friend.
The word struck Feng with the force of a physical blow. It was so small, so immense. It was an answer he had never received in his entire life.
People saved him because he was the Second Prince. They protected him for the power he represented, for the favor it might curry with his father, for the stability of the empire. Their loyalty was to his title, his bloodline, his future throne.
No one had ever saved him simply because he was Feng. The lost, irritable, sometimes foolish man she had found by a river.
He felt her finish, tying a clean bandage securely over the salve. The question had been answered. For her, the matter was settled.
But for Feng, sitting in the dim light, the world had just been remade. His eyes stung with an emotion he couldn't name. He stared straight ahead, unable to turn around, utterly paralyzed by the weight of her simple, devastating answer.
"Because you are my friend" , was ringing in his ears , as he watching her going out of the room
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