01’s injuries

Chiyin waited for the manservant to leave. Two manservants had finished removing the gauze from 01's wounds and cleaning him up. They left the items he instructed on the side table beside the bed. A stench reeked from the woven basket filled with discarded bed linen and clothing, mixing with the heavy scent of medicinal herbs and incense.

He could discern the faint odour of someone dying in their own piss and shit beneath the overpowering fragrance.

"Burn those." Chiyin tilted his head towards the smelly basket. Both men glanced at Yinyue. They didn't dare to act without her orders. She nodded and waved them aside. They scurried out of the room, leaving her in the company of Chiyin and the unconscious 01.

"Do you suspect an infectious disease?" She asked. "I haven't fallen sick after contact with him."

Chiyin shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."

He brushed past the linen curtains towards the almost lifeless 01 lying flat. A freshly washed quilt covered his naked body. Chiyin pulled back the quilt gingerly to 01's waist, unsure of what he might find under the blankets.

A battered upper body, riddled with greenish-purplish bruises and stitched wounds, greeted his sight. Almost like a colourful map made of skin. No plague-like skin lesions made Chiyin relax a little.

He expected the worst. A suspicion lingered in his mind about the notorious reputation of the Xirong for sending infectious individuals into bordering areas to spread diseases. In the past, he heard rumours about them throwing dead bodies or animal carcasses into the waterways to contaminate the drinking water. True or not, he couldn't take the risk.

One of the common diseases they used was the plague. An early symptom of the plague was clusters of pus-filled blisters on the victim's skin. Only the Xirong and even fewer Central Plains physicians knew how to treat those diseases.

01 didn't show any signs of an infectious disease. Chiyin heaved a small sigh of relief. Maybe he overreacted - he didn't receive any news about unusual disease outbreaks in the Black Mountains or Yandi's borders. Still, he preferred caution when dealing with the Xirong or even their Simurg syndicate.

If not for the faint rising and sinking of the chest, 01 could pass off as a corpse with his pallor.

01 survived, but how much longer?

Chiyin's eyes fell on the unconscious 01 and his hand grabbed the candle for better lighting. He noted every detail of the injuries on 01's upper body with meticulous detail. After a quick inspection, he pulled off the blanket to look at 01's lower body. The injuries on the legs gave no cause for worry. No signs of necrotic flesh.

Then he turned 01 to the side to check his back. Just slashed wounds also stitched. No signs of exit or entry wounds, consistent with impalement. All added up meant a lot of blood loss.

Chiyin laid 01 on his back again to examine the three injuries on 01's upper body, which caught his attention. Little wonder 01's life hung by a thin thread between life and death.

The Xirong healer sealed the long slash on the abdomen with stitches, leaving a raised ridge which looked like a finely drawn outline with the writing brush. One deep stab wound to the chest near the heart and another near the slash wound. Both also stitched.

Whoever attacked 01 didn't want him to survive.

Chiyin washed his hands in the clean basin of water left for him and wiped his hands dry on the towel on the side of the basin. He rolled out his needle holder on the side table. His hand ran through the needles, of varying length and thickness, before picking one silver needle from the holder. He ran the tip through the flickering flame of a candle sitting on the side table to disinfect it.

After dipping the tip of his needle in a small clay jar of alcohol beside the basin, he tapped each raised blackened gathered edges of the wounds with the silver needle in a deliberate, systematic fashion starting from the head down to the abdomen.

The smell from the burning candle and the heated coals in the metal burner enhanced the scent of burnt flesh emanating from 01's body.

"Yeah, they burnt the edges," Chiyin declared loud enough for Yinyue to hear from behind the silk screen.

"Uh huh."

He ignored her response. His fascination and growing envy captured by the unusual, yet complicated, sewing skills of the Xirong healer who patched 01's wounds. The handiwork would leave minimal scarring.

Chiyin had seen fine silk embroidered handiwork in the Central Plains. The Xirong healer exceeded the skills and steady hands of those embroidery artisans.

His eyes squinted, studying the pattern of the silk threads caked with dried blood. They held the burnt edges of raised reddish wounds together on each side, enough not to create an ugly-looking roll. He noticed some silk threads melting into the swollen skin.

"Did the Simurg …um…leave any instructions on how to care for his wounds?" He asked, wondering if those stitches needed to be taken out.

All the threads used to sew wounds together in the Central Plains needed to be removed after the seventh day. He wasn't sure about the Xirong's silk threads.

"No. Why?"

"Those silk threads… I'm not sure if they are being absorbed by his body," Chiyin replied, throwing his needle into the jar of alcohol.

"Remove them on the seventh day, then."

She misunderstood what he said. Not everything worked the same way.

Yinyue's face peeped over the screen separating her from 01's bedroom. "I can—"

She dodged a flying pillow and quickly resumed her original position.

"STAY THERE, DON'T LOOK!" He hollered while staring at her.

Chiyin shot a glare at the unconscious 01 and cursed his good looks silently. Handsome men were bad news. Especially those with Xirong blood. Not that he minded the Xirong.

He threw the bedcovers over the limp 01 and dragged the nearby stool to his bedside. Chiyin sat down to feel his pulse, while trying to stave the urge to disfigure 01.

"You know I've been out in battle before?" Yinyue asked after the awkward silence, "Injuries happen and most of my soldiers are men."

He sighed. Why did she have to remind him of her position?

The rare few men in Dayan tolerated their women looking at other men, especially half naked ones. Especially someone who fought alongside men in battle. Tradition dictated a strict separation between males and females once they reached puberty.

Yinyue's break with tradition meant difficulty in finding a life-partner to have children with. Unless the Emperor forced a man to marry her under imperial decree. Those types of marriages never fared well.

He wondered if her imperial father intended to use her as his blade for the rest of his lifetime.

"Well, you are not in battle," Chiyin retorted. "And he isn't in any immediate danger."

"W-water," 01 whimpered suddenly, interrupting the exchange of words. Chiyin glanced at his chapped lips while placing a thin silk handkerchief on the palm side of 01's wrist. Three of his fingers felt for the important blood channel just below the wrist.

"Later," Chiyin muttered.

Thirst of the pale young man won't kill him right away. Chiyin could feel a faint pulse, too weak to detect changes in the rhythm, but he could feel some throbbing. He pressed a little harder while 01 winced.

He frowned harder while 01's thready but rapid pulse throbbed harder against his fingers. The rhythmic beats seemed irregular, fast one moment than slowing down to another rapid pace. Chiyin reached out and pulled up 01's eyelid with the other hand, revealing its pale inner sides. He checked the other, and it was the same.

01's irises bore a mild glaze, reminding him of a dead fish.

"This one…has to be snatched from the doors of Hell," Chiyin muttered to himself.

He wondered if Yinyue would bear the high cost of treating 01.