WNST - 120

After going through all of this, instead of regaining his composure and redeeming himself, Zhang Yuehui became increasingly melancholic. 

Physical suffering was the most tangible lesson, and he had truly come to understand what it meant to be displaced, to have clothes that couldn’t cover his body and food that couldn’t fill his stomach. Along the way, Nan Yi’s remarkable ability to survive revealed just how much hardship she had endured in the past. 

Zhang Yuehui felt that what he had done before was utterly inhumane, and he was overwhelmed with regret. 

This weighed heavily on him, leaving him sighing constantly. 

More often than not, he would prop his chin in his hand and gaze at Nan Yi with a mournful expression. “I’ve done such terrible things to you… you probably won’t forgive me, will you?” 

“It’s fine. You don’t have to pretend to be kind to me. I know exactly what I am—an absolute scoundrel.”

Nan Yi’s fear of hunger had been reawakened by their recent days of wandering. She ate until she was stuffed every day, fearing there might not be a next meal. She devoured her food so voraciously that she didn’t even have the mental space to listen to Zhang Yuehui’s melancholic musings. Instead, she pointed at the bowl of noodles in front of him and asked, “Are you going to eat this or not? If not, I’ll eat it.” 

“…Eat.” 

Master Zhang had even started conserving food. 

But strangely, Zhang Yuehui’s constant air of lamentation actually alleviated much of Nan Yi’s own sorrow. When someone is constantly holding you back, it forces you to pull yourself together. 

Whether Zhang Yuehui’s strategy was a calculated retreat or genuine remorse, this shamelessly effective tactic worked. 

However, every time Nan Yi saw Luo Ci, her heart would skip a beat, inevitably bringing back painful memories. And from there, she couldn’t help but think of Xie Queshan. Only now did she realize, with hindsight, just how much risk he had taken to save her—and his love for her had been evident even then. 

But their time together had been far too short. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, nor could she dare to think of him. All she could do was silently pray in her heart that he would be safe and find his way to the light. 

The past was growing ever more distant from her. 

She pretended to forget all those tangled accounts. As for Luo Ci, they both avoided acknowledging each other whenever their paths crossed, maintaining an unspoken pretense of unfamiliarity. 

Luo Ci was a loyal servant. Every day, his unwavering focus remained on his master, Zhang Yuehui. The only time he came to see Nan Yi alone was to ask her to persuade his master to let a doctor set his broken leg. 

Zhang Yuehui adamantly refused to treat his injury. 

He made excuses with a playful grin—sometimes claiming he was afraid of the pain, sometimes insisting that the bone would heal on its own without intervention, and other times dismissing the doctor as unreliable and unworthy of trust. 

But if a broken leg wasn’t properly set, even if it healed, it could leave him with a permanent limp. 

At first, Nan Yi couldn’t understand how someone like Zhang Yuehui, who was so meticulous about perfection—even obsessively ironing his collars—could possibly allow himself to become crippled. 

She wondered if he was deliberately playing mind games, waiting for her to plead with him, wanting her to show concern before agreeing to see the doctor. 

Though Nan Yi initially didn’t want to indulge his antics, treating the injury was a serious matter. Day by day, the bone was healing, and if it grew crooked, fixing it later would be far more complicated. 

In the end, she decided to confront him. 

It took searching several places before she finally found him. Zhang Yuehui was practicing walking with crutches on a small path in the backyard garden, sweat pouring down his forehead as he forced himself to take a few agonizing steps forward. 

“Zhang Yuehui, are you really giving up on your leg?” 

Seeing this scene, Nan Yi felt a sudden surge of anger and scolded him. 

Zhang Yuehui turned his head toward her, flashing a bright smile that revealed his gleaming teeth. It was unclear what he found amusing, but under the dim lantern light of the night, he looked oddly handsome. 

“You come with me. The doctor is waiting outside. Today, no matter what, we’re getting your leg fixed.” 

“I said I’m not treating it.” 

“Why not?” Nan Yi grew exasperated. 

Zhang Yuehui neither resisted nor argued. He simply smiled at her and said softly, “Come here.” 

Thinking he wanted her to help support him, Nan Yi approached. But the moment she got close, he suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her in front of him. 

Despite his severely injured leg, he managed to steady himself firmly, standing as immovable as a mountain. When Nan Yi looked up, she saw beads of cold sweat glistening on his temples. Yet he still smiled—a smile tinged with loneliness. 

Without saying a word, Zhang Yuehui slowly rolled up her sleeve, layer by layer. He carefully held her arm as though it were a precious treasure. But in reality, it was an ugly arm, marred by whip scars—new wounds crisscrossing old ones, grotesquely etched into her otherwise fair skin. 

He tilted his head to look up at her, his eyes reflecting nothing but the clear moonlight. “Does it hurt?” 

Nan Yi abruptly pulled her hand back, taking an incredulous step backward. 

She could hardly believe it. Was he refusing treatment because he wanted to personally experience the pain she had endured in the past? 

Luo Ci had arrived, saying nothing, pretending to have forgotten everything—but in truth, he remembered it all. Those scars were his doing. Even if she forgave him, he couldn’t forgive himself. This was his way of punishing himself. 

He owed her so much—it felt impossible to ever repay her. 

She had thought that after all this time, his guilt and regret would have faded. But it turned out that what he had expressed was only the tip of the iceberg. His love for her ran far deeper than she had imagined. 

Speechless, she felt all her strength suddenly drain away. The fate she had once longed for—the hope that her beloved would descend from the heavens to share even a fraction of her suffering—had finally arrived, but far too late. 

He had finally come, yet he was so late—later than so many others. 

But in this world, true sincerity was like a piercing wind that cut through everything. 

Through these events, Nan Yi began to see Zhang Yuehui in a new light. 

Weakly shaking her head, she murmured, “Don’t do this.” 

Zhang Yuehui tilted his head and grinned, still wearing that shameless expression. “If I end up a cripple, it’ll be because of you. You can’t abandon me.” 

Nan Yi, who had been on the verge of tears, felt her sadness evaporate in an instant, replaced by a mix of frustration and amusement. “If I ever decide to run away, your leg won’t be able to catch me. You’d better make sure you stay safe and sound.” 

“You’re not that kind of person,” Zhang Yuehui declared confidently. 

No one could out-argue Zhang Yuehui when it came to his twisted logic. Nan Yi was both exasperated and angry. 

“Are you going to get treated or not?” 

“No.” 

“…” 

Suddenly, Nan Yi stepped forward and snatched the crutch from Zhang Yuehui’s hands. Caught off guard, he lost his support and stumbled, his injured leg unable to bear his weight. He could only grab onto Nan Yi’s arm, leaning heavily against her as he swayed precariously. 

He dared not let go, knowing he would lose his balance entirely. Seizing the opportunity, Nan Yi pulled a length of rope from her waist and quickly tied his hands together while shouting, “Luo Ci! Come quick!”

Luo Ci immediately emerged from the shadows with several burly men, who quickly subdued Zhang Yuehui. Nan Yi, in a flurry, stuffed a wad of cloth into his mouth to prevent him from biting down too hard. 

The doctor arrived shortly after, his medical kit bouncing awkwardly as he hurried over. Without regard for the rudimentary setting, a few men pinned Zhang Yuehui down while the doctor began setting and treating his broken leg on the spot. 

Fearing Zhang Yuehui might resist, Nan Yi tightly pinched the webbing between his thumb and index finger—the “hukou” pressure point. Zhang Yuehui stopped struggling, and in that moment, it was as if he had been transported back to the past. He remembered how she would proudly boast about some folk remedy she had heard somewhere, claiming that pressing this specific point could calm the mind and relieve pain. It seemed to be her go-to solution—no matter what happened or where the pain was, she instinctively pinched his hukou. 

He didn’t think it always worked, but the small, cool touch of her hand gave him the last semblance of home in this world. 

A faint crack echoed as the bone was set, and Nan Yi felt Zhang Yuehui’s entire body tense in agony, the cloth in his mouth nearly bitten through. 

But finally, she exhaled in relief. 

There were no incurable wounds—only uncooperative patients. 

---

The doctor secured Zhang Yuehui’s injured leg with bamboo splints and instructed that he must not put weight on it for three days. Nan Yi kept a close eye on him like a guard watching a prisoner. Fortunately, they were now far from Lido Prefecture’s jurisdiction, so there was no immediate danger, and they could afford to slow their pace. 

Though Zhang Yuehui appeared disheveled, Gui Lai Tang’s influence still held considerable sway. Some messages continued to reach him. 

In the brief moment Nan Yi stepped away, Zhang Yuehui unfolded a secret report sent from Qingzhou, his expression growing grave. 

“Ya Jiu has traced the lead to the Qingzhou Cliff Daoist Temple.” 

Luo Ci knew what this meant. Seeing his master’s serious demeanor, he anxiously asked, “Master, you’re not planning to interfere in this matter, are you?” 

A faint, indifferent smile spread across Zhang Yuehui’s face. “If I tried to save every single person in Bingzhu Bureau, how many lives do you think I’d have left?” 

With a flick of his wrist, he crumpled the note into a small ball and casually tossed it into the brazier, where it was consumed by flames. 

Luo Ci let out a sigh of relief. 

“What day is it today?” 

“The twenty-second day of the fourth month.” 

Two days remained until the Nirvana Plan. 

The Qingzhou Cliff Daoist Temple was an inconspicuous little temple, but in reality, it served as one of Bingzhu Bureau’s secret bases. Under the guise of alchemical experiments, Song Muchuan had purchased large quantities of saltpeter in small, discreet transactions, secretly transporting them to Lido Prefecture. 

Song Muchuan had been extremely cautious. Originally, Zhang Yuehui hadn’t noticed anything amiss until a large sum of money was transferred from Jinling to Lido Prefecture via his bank, split into smaller transactions. Suspicious of why so much money was being used, Zhang Yuehui traced the flow of funds, eventually leading him to this obscure temple. 

Song Muchuan had used various pretexts to purchase materials, and the temple was just one of many fronts. When all the items were combined—saltpeter, charcoal, sugar… Zhang Yuehui roughly deduced what Song Muchuan intended to do. 

On the day of the dragon-boned ship’s completion ceremony, Wanyan Jun and most of the Qi soldiers would board the vessel. Song Muchuan planned to blow them all up onboard. Only by annihilating the Qi forces could Ling’an Wang return to Jinling in triumph. 

This was the Nirvana Plan. 

However, Ya Jiu had somehow caught wind of something and rushed to investigate the Qingzhou Cliff Daoist Temple. The small temple couldn’t possibly account for such a massive amount of saltpeter, and Song Muchuan’s trail was bound to be exposed. 

Jinling was like a sieve, leaking information everywhere. Wanyan Pu truly had some skill. 

After a moment of silence, Zhang Yuehui heard Nan Yi’s approaching footsteps outside. Lowering his voice, he instructed, “Keep your mouth shut. If Nan Yi catches even a whiff of this, she’ll rush straight to Lido Prefecture.” 

A flicker of unease passed through Luo Ci’s eyes, but he bowed his head and replied softly, “Understood.”