Chapter 14: So Easily Shy
The medicine boy bandaged Niu Baoqing while carefully stealing glances at Shang Wan standing nearby watching.
He and his master had both gone to sleep, but this woman suddenly climbed over the wall, scaring him into thinking a thief had entered, only for her to turn out to be there to treat wounds.
The man on the sickbed was also incredibly lucky; his wound was so deep and he had lost so much blood, yet he had still managed to keep his life.
The old doctor’s fingers rested on Niu Baoqing’s pulse, his gray eyebrows tightly furrowed, his face showing puzzlement.
“This young man’s pulse is truly strange. Clearly a severely injured person, yet a surge of vitality inexplicably emerges within his body. I’ve practiced medicine for decades and have never encountered such a peculiar thing.”
Shang Wan, the peculiar creator, kept her composure and asked, “When will he wake up?”
“After daybreak.” The old doctor wrote down the prescription and instructed the medicine boy to go to the front to fetch the medicine.
Shang Wan raised her hand to beckon Geng Hao to the side to talk. “I’m going out to handle something. You stay here and watch; don’t let anyone run off.”
“Got it.” Geng Hao agreed straightforwardly, his heart bursting with joy as his mind rapidly planned an escape route.
The female demon head was leaving—what better time to run than now?
Shang Wan saw through his thoughts at a glance and said coolly, “I’ve placed a little thing on you. No matter where you run, I can find you. Feel free to give it a try.”
Geng Hao: “…”
“I’m off.” Shang Wan took a step but suddenly paused, turning to look at him. “Did you bring silver?”
Geng Hao nodded subconsciously—who runs off without bringing silver?
Shang Wan looked relieved. “I didn’t bring any. Settle the consultation fee and medicine fee in a bit.”
Geng Hao: ???
The old doctor, who had been pretending to be deaf, instantly perked up at the words “medicine fee” and smiled at Geng Hao. “A total of ten taels of silver. No rush, young man; you can pay after the person wakes up.”
Geng Hao: “…”
I see you’re the one in a hurry.
He wanted to protest to Shang Wan, but in the time it took to turn his head, she was already gone.
Where had Shang Wan gone?
Of course, to the prison to check on her vase.
In the prison, the constables had pooled money for some wine and food and were eating while chatting.
Shang Wan, hiding in the shadows, listened and couldn’t help but open her mouth to yawn.
She had single-handedly fought a pack of wolves that day, monitored Tian Sheng, rushed to save someone—this moment she was truly a bit sleepy, and she didn’t know if her own vase was asleep yet.
Lu Chengjing, whom Shang Wan was thinking of, suddenly sneezed. He sat up propping himself, looked around the prison cell, and saw no familiar figure.
The constables’ unrestrained laughter carried from afar, making the cell seem even emptier.
He lightly pursed his pale lips, tugged the sour-smelling thin quilt up higher with his left hand, and carefully lay back down on the straw mat.
Shang Wan dozed with her head drooping; even with things on her mind, she didn’t sleep deeply.
She didn’t know how long she slept, but when she woke, she found that group of constables had finally passed out, each snoring thunderously.
She raised her hand and stretched, then silently walked over, took the key hanging on the wall, and ran toward the last cell.
There weren’t many prisoners held in the prison; most were asleep. Even those awake couldn’t see clearly at Shang Wan’s speed.
The chains clinked lightly. Lu Chengjing, who had no intention of sleeping, heard the familiar female voice. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
Footsteps approached. Lu Chengjing sat up propping himself and turned his head to meet Shang Wan’s face leaning close.
His cheeks heated, and he reflexively pulled back.
“Dodging what?” Shang Wan reached out to press his nape, their foreheads touching. “No fever, so why is your face still red?”
Shang Wan released him, scrutinizing him carefully while asking, “Where do you feel unwell?”
“Nowhere.” Lu Chengjing looked away, his long lashes half-lowered. “Why are you here again?”
“Of course because I missed you.” Shang Wan joked deliberately.
The expression of the man before her took on a bit of embarrassment and anger, his face reddening further. She suddenly understood what the flush on his face earlier had been about.
Tsk tsk, how so easily shy?
She suppressed the naughty thoughts bubbling up and reached out to yank off the thin quilt wrapped around Lu Chengjing, then wrapped him in the soft bedding she had taken from her space before entering the cell.
Lu Chengjing was bundled up with only his head poking out; his cold-numbed body immediately warmed.
He stared at Shang Wan somewhat dazedly, his lips moving slightly. He wanted to ask how she had brought such a large bedding into the cell, but the words reached his mouth and, thinking of this woman’s ghostly coming and going, he swallowed them back.
“Cover yourself first to warm up, in case it’s discovered. I’ll take you away later.” Shang Wan took a small green porcelain bottle from her sleeve—also something she had taken from the Lu Family last night—and had filled it beforehand with spiritual spring water.
“Here.” She brought the bottle mouth to Lu Chengjing’s lips. “Drink it all; it’s good for your wounds.”
After several days of observation, Shang Wan found that while spiritual spring water worked on people of this world, its effect was far weaker than in the apocalypse—at least not as effective as on herself.
She figured it was because people of the two worlds had different constitutions, or perhaps the spiritual spring water’s effect had been weakened after crossing over.
Lu Chengjing lowered his gaze and sipped from the bottle mouth, drinking every drop of the spiritual spring water under Shang Wan’s feeding.
Pretty obedient.
Shang Wan’s lips curved slightly as she slowly recounted the matter of Geng Hao and Niu Baoqing, and along the way shared the big gossip she had overheard in the county yamen backyard.
Lu Chengjing’s face was expressionless when listening to serious matters, but when listening to gossip, his brows furrowed tighter and tighter.
Why could this person manage to look bitterly vengeful even while listening to gossip?
Shang Wan didn’t understand. She thought for a moment, then took out the transcribed paper from her bosom and held it before Lu Chengjing’s eyes. “I copied a version from the letter. Take a look.”
The prison was dim, and Lu Chengjing didn’t have Shang Wan’s freakish eyesight. “I can’t see clearly. Since you copied it, you should know what the letter says. Why not just tell me directly?”
Shang Wan: “…”
No, she didn’t know.
If she could read the words on the letter, would she have bothered copying it?
She couldn’t figure it out. The original host was literate, and she was literate too—why had a literate soul entering a literate shell ended up illiterate?
This isn’t scientific!
“I’m afraid I’d miss something. You’d better look yourself. I’ll go fetch an oil lamp.” Shang Wan made an excuse and left the cell.
Lu Chengjing watched her back, his gaze slightly surprised.
He hadn’t meant to test her, but this Shang Wan being illiterate was truly beyond his expectations.
His brows knitted. The original Shang Wan was literate; if this woman intended to impersonate her, how could she not even know that?
Shang Wan felt her excuse was quite good, unaware that her disguise had long been peeled off by Lu Chengjing.
By the oil lamp’s light, Lu Chengjing read the letter very slowly.
Shang Wan eyed him. “Tian Sheng finished it in a few glances. Why are you taking so long?”
The slighted Lu Chengjing: “…”
With his eyesight, he could naturally tell the words on the paper were copied sloppily—not to mention lacking resemblance, some strokes were even wrong.
If the handwriting had been even a bit neater, why would he take so long?
He endured and endured but still couldn’t hold back. He lifted his eyelids and said expressionlessly, “Please next time make the characters more like the real thing.”
