Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 16: Heartbeat

The young general suddenly awoke.

Even though she turned her face to the side, she could still sense that burning gaze.

The hand gripping her slender wrist transmitted the warmth of his skin where his fingertips touched. Her wrist bone seemed to have been scalded, and a tingling sensation crawled up her arm, spreading all the way to her heart, reverberating with a great echo in her chest.

Wei Zhen said, “I saw that you were injured and was about to apply medicine for you.”

Why did he suddenly wake up? Because her cloth had wiped down his lower abdomen, and just a few inches further…

The rain pattered against the plantain leaves, the rustling sound resembling the rhythm of their hearts at this moment.

In the silence, his low voice sounded, “No need, I can do it myself.”

He leaned forward to take the gauze from her hand, but the movement tugged at his wound, causing him to sway slightly.

Wei Zhen quickly supported him. “You’re injured and have difficulty moving. It would be more convenient for me to handle it.”

Then, she added, “You needn’t feel offended. I’ve seen countless wounded soldiers in the army.”

The hand gripping her wrist slowly released.

She lowered her gaze, picked up the cloth, and continued to clean his wounds.

During her time in the military camp, Wei Zhen had certainly seen other men’s bodies before. They were mostly covered in blood and filth, their garments disheveled. By the end of the day, she was nearly numb to it all. Yet, she had never observed anyone as closely as she did now.

The young man before her was entirely different from them—his body lean yet strong. As she approached, his heat enveloped her, a natural difference between men and women, carrying an inherent sense of dominance.

Like a lone wolf that had survived the cruel wilderness, this was the feeling he gave.

Blood continued to seep from his chest wound. After carefully wiping it clean, her hand moved downward, pressing against his abdomen. The blood had trickled along the lines of his muscles, disappearing into his lower garments. Wei Zhen dared not clean further and slowly withdrew her palm.

Qi Yan observed her actions.

There had been nothing between them before, yet this deliberate avoidance made it seem as if there was something.

The ambiguous atmosphere only grew thicker, making it impossible to decipher.

There were still traces of blood on his neck. Wei Zhen reached out to wipe them away. He spoke, his Adam’s apple quivering beneath her palm, “Is it done?”

“Almost.” Wei Zhen tried to divert the topic. “Does it still hurt, General?”

“It’s fine. You often assisted the military physicians in treating the wounded at the camp?”

Wei Zhen nodded. “Yes. After my grandfather passed, the fief was left to me and my younger brother. I handled many affairs personally. If not, I wouldn’t have been able to command my subordinates.”

Both tacitly used conversation to mask the awkwardness. However, instead of easing it, the unease only deepened.

She leaned forward to apply the medicine, gently rubbing it onto his wound.

As her fingertips glided over his chest, the surrounding air seemed to ignite.

His gaze landed on her face, carrying a palpable warmth, making her heartbeat pound wildly.

Wei Zhen took out a fine needle, briefly sterilized it over the candle flame, and began suturing the wound. Once finished, she said, “General, could you lift your arms?”

Qi Yan raised both hands, allowing her to wrap the bandages around him. Since he was sitting, Wei Zhen had to lean in, her arms circling around him. Her soft body unintentionally pressed against his firm chest, making Qi Yan instinctively lean back slightly.

Avoiding her gaze, he turned his face aside. “Is it done?”

“Not yet.” Wei Zhen was tying the bandage, only now realizing how thinly she was dressed. Her nervousness spread to her fingertips. After finally securing the knot, she stood up, but as she did, her foot caught on the wooden platform, causing her to lose her balance.

A strong arm swiftly reached out, wrapping around her waist just in time.

She half-fell into his embrace, her hands gripping his shoulders to steady herself. Her long hair cascaded down to his knees, and the rich fragrance of her tresses intertwined with the scent of blood on him.

That day, in the heavy rain, he had crouched before her to check her injured ankle. They had also been in such an intimate posture.

The young man’s breath lingered close, the fabric between them brushing against her skin, sending a tingling sensation through her body.

Her cheeks burned as she quickly pulled away.

Qi Yan’s gaze remained on her face. A thin layer of sweat had formed on her forehead, and her long lashes fluttered slightly. Their eyes met for a brief moment—like the touch of a dragonfly skimming water—before she swiftly looked away.

“I’ve stitched your wound and bandaged it, but you’ll still need a proper physician to reapply medicine tomorrow.” She lowered her head as she spoke.

Qi Yan hummed in response.

Wei Zhen crouched to pick up the scissors, just as he reached out for his discarded outer robe. Their fingertips brushed against each other.

Thump, thump.

The night breeze stirred through the window, blurring the distinction between the sound of their heartbeats and the wind knocking against the panes.

Wei Zhen was about to rise when footsteps suddenly echoed from outside the hall.

Both of them turned toward the entrance simultaneously. The approaching figure stopped at the doorway, his silhouette cast onto the door by the flickering candlelight.

“It’s me.”

It was Wei Zhen’s father, Wei Zhao.

Wei Zhao knocked on the door and said, “I was passing by your courtyard and saw that your lights were still on. Have you not gone to bed yet? Where are the guards outside your hall?”

“Father?” Wei Zhen immediately stood up. Of course, the guards outside were gone—they had been led away by Wei Ling earlier. She quickly replied, “I was just preparing to sleep. What brings you here so late?”

Wei Zhao knocked again. “Open the door. I have something to discuss with you.”

Wei Zhen turned back, signaling for Qi Yan to hide. But the hall wasn’t large—if he were to get off the bed now, the candlelight would cast his shadow onto the window. Where could he possibly hide?

She grabbed his outer robe from the floor and threw it onto the bed before blowing out the candle.

“Father, I’ve already gone to bed. It’s late—can we talk tomorrow?”

Outside, silence fell. A moment later, the sound of Wei Zhao’s departing footsteps echoed.

Just as Wei Zhen was about to urge Qi Yan to leave, she unexpectedly heard the footsteps turn back—Wei Zhao had returned.

“Ah Zhen, open the door.”

Wei Zhen pushed Qi Yan onto the bed, quickly unhooking the curtains on both sides to conceal his shadow. With no candlelight in the hall, she fumbled onto the bed but tripped, tumbling into the bedding.

The person on the bed caught her shoulders. Wei Zhen raised a hand to cover his lips, signaling him to remain silent.

Earlier, when Qi Yan had burst into the hall, Wei Zhen had helped him inside but had not locked the door. Now, Wei Zhao knocked heavily a few times, causing the door to open slightly.

Darkness shrouded the space, heightening the sense of secrecy. Yet, Wei Zhen could see nothing. She lay in his arms, trying to rise, but her hair was pinned beneath his body, pulling painfully. Unable to voice a reminder, she could only grab the bedding and pull it over both their heads.

Outside, footsteps drew closer.

“Father, what is it? I’ve already gone to bed,” Wei Zhen called out.

Wei Zhao’s steps halted by the door. He looked inside and saw the draped canopy, a faint shadow flickering within. The blanket over her appeared slightly bulky, but he thought nothing of it.

“I came to talk about your marriage with the Crown Prince.”

Wei Zhen’s fingers clenched around the pillow. Wei Zhao was just outside—if he stepped inside, he would see everything clearly.

Beneath her, the man’s breath brushed against her neck. A forbidden sensation climbed up her spine, making her heart tremble slightly.

Wei Zhao continued, “Ah Zhen, you want to break off your engagement with the Crown Prince? That is absurd. You mustn’t act on impulse. Listen to me—tomorrow morning, go see the Queen and tell her you’ve calmed down and won’t cause any more trouble.”

Wei Zhen dared not move. “Father, please don’t bring this up again. I have my own considerations.”

His voice abruptly rose. “What considerations?”

Receiving no response from the person in bed, Wei Zhao pushed the door open a little further.

Wei Zhen made to get up, but Qi Yan’s hand grasped her wrist, urging her not to.

All she wanted was to send her father away as soon as possible. She did not want to argue. “Father, my marriage is not something I can decide. It is up to His Majesty.”

At the mention of the King of Chu, Wei Zhao refrained from forcing his way in.

Wei Zhen caught a faint scent of alcohol in the air—it seemed to be coming from Wei Zhao. The presence of the alcohol masked much of the blood scent lingering in the hall.

She was on high alert, her nerves wound tightly.

She braced herself against the bed to rise, but her hand inadvertently pressed against Qi Yan’s wound. She heard him take a sharp breath.

It was a small sound, but in the dead silence of the hall, it was startlingly loud.

Wei Zhao fell still outside the door.

Wei Zhen’s heart seized. She quickly covered Qi Yan’s head with a pillow and tilted her face up. “Father, I truly need to sleep now.”

The wind pounded against the hall doors, making the heavy hinges groan as they moved. It almost seemed like that quiet gasp had been nothing more than an illusion.

Wei Zhao did not step inside after all. Before leaving, he looked at her and said, “You’d best behave yourself. Stay put and prepare for your marriage. Don’t cause trouble and drag the Wei family into it.”

With a loud bang, the hall doors shut.

Wei Zhen’s body went slack. She collapsed back onto the pillow, her thick black hair spilling loosely around her, breathing heavily.

“Did I touch your wound just now?” she asked.

Qi Yan replied, “No.”

But in truth, she had. Blood was seeping through the bandages on his chest.

He tried to get up, but the pain from his wound flared, making him weak. His brows furrowed as he looked down at her.

She lay there with her hair in disarray, cheeks flushed. A lock of her dark hair clung to her face, and her red lips parted slightly with soft breaths—a vision of intoxicating beauty.

Wei Zhen moved closer, blindly groping forward. In doing so, her lips barely grazed his skin.

Earlier, too—she had nearly buried her face in the hollow of his neck, whispering to her father while her cool breath fanned against his ear.

Did she even realize how she looked right now?

Qi Yan averted his gaze and said in a low voice, “Where is your outer robe?”

His voice was deeper than before, carrying a hoarseness that stirred dangerous thoughts.

Wei Zhen was momentarily dazed before understanding his meaning—she was dressed far too lightly, making him uncomfortable.

Her face instantly burned scarlet.