Feeding Medicine

When Zhou Heng regained consciousness, the first thing he felt was a long and dull pain that stubbornly radiated from below his right scapula, accompanied by waves of exhaustion and dry mouth caused by high body temperature.

He struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, and it took him a while to focus his vision.

It was the same tent filled with the smell of herbs, dimly lit, making it hard to tell whether it was dawn or dusk.

He lay on his side on a bed covered with thick fur, covered with a soft brocade quilt. His right shoulder was tightly bandaged, and even the slightest movement caused a dull pain.

The tent was quiet, save for the occasional crackling sound from the charcoal brazier. Then he heard a very faint, rhythmic sound of water.

He turned his head with difficulty to look at the source of the sound.

Not far from the bed, Xiao Jue sat on a low stool with his back to him, a copper basin in front of him.

He removed his blood-stained outer robe and armor, leaving only a dark-colored single garment with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a section of his forearm with smooth lines, yet covered with new and old scars.

He was wringing out a cloth, his movements careful and focused, water droplets dripping from his well-defined fingers into the basin.

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment, his mind still a little dizzy.

The next second, he saw Xiao Jue turn around, holding the slightly steaming damp cloth, and walk towards him.

Zhou Heng instinctively tried to shrink back, but the movement aggravated his wound, causing him to gasp in pain.

Xiao Jue paused for a moment, walked to the bedside, and looked down at him.

His face was paler than usual, with faint dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his beard, but his eyes remained unfathomable as he stared intently at Zhou Heng.

"Awake?" Xiao Jue's voice was a little hoarse, and it was impossible to tell what emotion he was feeling.

"...Hmm." Zhou Heng responded dryly, his gaze involuntarily falling on the cloth in his hand.

Xiao Jue didn't say anything more. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch Zhou Heng's forehead.

The cool, rough fingertips touched the burning hot skin, and Zhou Heng's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Xiao Jue paused for a moment, then naturally withdrew his hand, but his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Still burning up," he said softly, then gently placed the warm cloth on Zhou Heng's forehead.

The warm, moist heat soothed his burning skin, bringing a brief moment of comfort. Zhou Heng was somewhat bewildered. This… the Marquis was personally applying a compress to his forehead?

Before he could even process the shock, Xiao Jue had already picked up a porcelain bowl from the small table beside him. The bowl contained dark, murky medicine that emitted a strong, bitter smell. He stirred it with a spoon, scooped up a spoonful, and brought it to Zhou Heng's lips.

"Drink it." The tone was commanding and left no room for argument.

Looking at the spoon so close to him and Xiao Jue's expressionless face, Zhou Heng's mind became even more confused.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say "I can do it myself," but he couldn't lift his right arm at all, and his left arm was also sore and weak.

He could only stiffly take a small sip from Xiao Jue's hand. Bitter! An indescribable bitterness that shot straight to the top of his head, making his entire face scrunch up.

Xiao Jue paused, looking at his expression. He glanced at his face, then scooped up another spoonful and brought it to his lips again. This time, his tone was slightly softer, but still firm: "Good medicine tastes bitter. Drink it all."

Despite the churning stomach acid and the bitter taste on his tongue, Zhou Heng, spoonful by spoonful, drank the bowl of medicine that was almost like poison, right from Xiao Jue's hand.

With each sip, he could feel Xiao Jue's gaze fixed on his face. The gaze was so focused that it made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He could only stare at the rim of the bowl or Xiao Jue's wrist, and dared not look up.

After feeding him the medicine, Xiao Jue put down the bowl, picked up the cloth, soaked it in warm water, wrung it out, and began to wipe Zhou Heng's cheeks and neck.

The cloth brushed against his skin with a gentle, neither too light nor too heavy touch. Yet, Zhou Heng found it even more unbearable than drinking the medicine earlier.

He wanted to say, "No need, Your Excellency, I can manage on my own," but his throat was so dry that he couldn't make a decent sound, and his body was indeed weak and powerless.

Xiao Jue moved steadily. After wiping his face and neck, he changed to a clean cloth and carefully wiped his exposed left hand as well.

The entire time was silent, except for the sound of a towel being wrung out and the eerie, tense atmosphere between the two.

After doing all this, Xiao Jue threw the cloth back into the basin, got up and walked to the stove next to him, picked up a ceramic pot that had been kept warm, poured out a small half bowl of steaming, clear-looking soup, and then came back.

"Meat porridge, have some." It was still a short and direct command.

Zhou Heng was indeed hungry and thirsty; his throat felt like it was on fire. He looked at the bowl of porridge, then at Xiao Jue, and finally, unable to resist his body's needs, he nodded slightly.

This time, Xiao Jue didn't use a spoon. Instead, he held the bowl directly to his lips, and with his other hand, he reached behind his neck and gently lifted his head, adjusting it to a position that made it easier for him to swallow.

This posture was even more intimate than when he was feeding the medicine earlier. Zhou Heng was almost half-embraced in Xiao Jue's arms, his nose only inches away from Xiao Jue's chest, and he could clearly smell the clean scent and a very faint medicinal smell on the other's body.

He stiffly sipped the lukewarm meat porridge from the rim of the bowl. The porridge was cooked until very soft, with the salty aroma of minced meat, which soothed his empty stomach and parched throat.

Xiao Jue was very patient. He waited for him to swallow a mouthful before tilting the bowl slightly to let him drink a mouthful.

Throughout the entire process, the hand supporting the back of his neck remained steady and strong, and the gaze was always fixed on his swallowing movements.

After finishing the bowl of porridge, Zhou Heng felt he had regained some strength, but also... felt even more lost. He lowered his head, not daring to look at Xiao Jue, and whispered, "Thank... thank you, Lord Marquis."

Xiao Jue didn't respond, but simply put the bowl back on the small table, then reached out to feel the temperature of his forehead, his brows still furrowed.

"The army doctor said the arrow wound is deep and easily aggravates internal heat, so the fever will recur in the next few days. Take your medicine on time and don't move around too much," he instructed, his tone returning to its usual businesslike manner, but with an unusual subtlety in his words. "Chen Zhen is outside; call him if you need anything."

After saying that, he stood up, seemingly preparing to leave.

Zhou Heng felt a strange sense of relief, yet also a vague emptiness. He quickly added, "My lord, regarding the war..."

"King Qi has been defeated, the central army banner has been captured, and the remnants are scattering and fleeing. General Zhao is leading men to pursue and annihilate them." Xiao Jue spoke succinctly, his gaze lingering on the bandaged shoulder for a moment, "You have rendered a great service."

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment. He had made a great contribution? Did it mean... he had shielded him from an arrow? He hadn't thought that much about it at the time.

With the mission on his mind, he couldn't help but ask, "Then... what about the imperial court? And what about Prince Qi...?"

"These are not things you should be worrying about right now," Xiao Jue interrupted him, his tone slightly heavy. "Focus on healing your injuries."

Zhou Heng was taken aback and mumbled an "Oh".

Xiao Jue said no more and turned to walk out of the tent. When he reached the door, he paused, but did not turn back, leaving only the words: "If the fever gets high at night, or the wound hurts, call the army doctor, or... call me."

The curtains fell, obscuring his back.

Zhou Heng lay alone on the couch, the warm touch of the cloth still lingering on his forehead, the bitterness of the medicine and the lingering fragrance of the meat porridge still on his lips and teeth.

Outside the tent, the wind and snow had stopped sometime earlier. Xiao Jue stood in front of the main tent, gazing at the gradually dissipating dark clouds and the sliver of light peeking through the distance, his eyes deep and thoughtful. Chen Zhen appeared silently behind him.

"My lord, the medicinal herbs used by Military Advisor Zhou are all the best from the warehouse, as you instructed. The military doctor has also instructed that they be kept in shifts day and night to provide care," Chen Zhen reported in a low voice.

Xiao Jue hummed in response, his gaze still fixed on the distance, lost in thought.

"How is the pursuit and suppression of the remnants of King Qi's forces going?" he asked, his tone returning to its usual cold and hard manner.

"Zhao Canjiang reported that most of the enemy forces had been annihilated, and the King of Qi fled southeast with only a thousand or so personal guards. Elite scouts have been dispatched to pursue them."

"What's the imperial court doing?"

"The new emperor of Nandu seems to be frightened, and no new decrees have been issued for the time being. However, with the defeat of the Prince of Qi, his alliance with the court may be in jeopardy, and some forces in the court that were originally observing may switch sides."

Xiao Jue's lips curled into a cold smile: "Just a fence-sitter. Order all units to rest and regroup, and take stock of the battle results. Although we have won this battle, we cannot afford to be complacent."

"yes!"

Chen Zhen accepted the order, but did not leave immediately. After hesitating for a moment, he said in a low voice, "My lord, you haven't slept for two days either, perhaps...?"

"It's alright." Xiao Jue waved his hand, interrupting him. He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the tent behind him where Zhou Heng was being housed, his eyes darkening. "Keep an eye on him. Report back immediately if anything happens."

"Understood."

Xiao Jue said no more and strode towards the central command tent, where there were still mountains of military affairs and battle reports to deal with.