"Coward. Ran away," Feng Leng muttered before rushing toward me. But before he could reach me, I forced myself up, groaning in pain, and took a few steps away from him.
"Stay there," I said through gritted teeth.
Feng Leng halted, his brows furrowing in frustration. "You're hurt. You're bleeding. Let me help you."
I shook my head, my breathing uneven. "I can do it on my own."
My sleeve was in tatters, shredded from the assassin's umbrella slash, exposing the torn skin underneath. The wound burned, but that wasn't what unsettled me the most. My skin—raw, open, dangerous—was on full display. The poison within me was unpredictable. It could seep out, unnoticed, until it was too late.
I clenched my jaw and took another step back as Feng Leng moved closer.
"Seriously? Why are you so stubborn? At least let me hold you so you can walk with my support."
I shook my head again, more forcefully this time. I couldn't let him touch me. I couldn't risk his skin coming into contact with mine. What if my poison spread? What if it hurt him?
Feng Leng exhaled sharply and looked away, clearly frustrated.
"Are you two done?" Zhang Hao's voice cut through the tense moment. "It's already midnight. Let's just go and rest. If this guy wants to patch himself up alone, let him. Why are you stressing so much?"
Without waiting for a response, Zhang Hao walked ahead. Feng Leng and I followed in silence. I limped forward, keeping my distance, but I could feel his gaze flickering toward me from time to time. Even though he was angry, even though he didn't understand, he still watched over me.
But this was how it had to be.
For his own sake.
Zhang Hao immediately went to his room without another word, leaving me and Feng Leng alone as we made our way to our shared room. The moment I stepped inside, the questions began.
"Did you know that guy? Why was he trying to kill you?!" Feng Leng's voice was sharp, demanding.
I exhaled, already exhausted. "I don't know. And that's none of your business." My words came out colder than intended, but I didn't regret them.
Feng Leng's expression darkened. "Oh, it's none of my business? You were about to get killed if it weren't for me and Zhang Hao! At least tell me you're grateful, or are you still going to act like you don't care?"
I scoffed. "Why should I be thankful? Did you forget I helped you at the inn when you were attacked? And as for Zhang Hao—did I ask him to help me? I couldn't care less about any of you."
The pain in my arm flared, and I let out an involuntary groan. Feng Leng immediately took a step forward, concern flashing across his face. But I raised a hand to stop him.
"If you want to help, just do one thing." My voice was strained. "I need clothes and medicinal herb. Nothing else."
Feng Leng clenched his jaw, clearly holding back whatever he wanted to say. But after a moment, he exhaled sharply and turned away.
I didn't need his concern.
The room was silent except for the occasional creak of wood as the lantern's flame flickered, casting wavering shadows across the floor. The night air was cold against my skin, but I ignored it. Pain anchored me, reminded me that I was still alive.
Feng Leng returned, his expression unreadable as he placed the items I had asked for on the floor beside me. Without a word, he turned away and walked toward his bed. He didn't even spare me a glance as he lay down, facing the wall.
Childish.
I exhaled, shaking my head. At least he had listened.
I reached for the clothes he had brought—simple yet finely made. Maybe his. Maybe Zhang Hao's. It didn't matter. My own were ruined, torn and stained with blood. I shrugged off my tattered robe, letting it fall onto the floor beside me, the scent of iron and damp silk clinging to the fabric. The cold air stung as it touched my exposed skin.
Lowering myself carefully, I untied the sash of my outer pants, adjusting the ku (袴)—the dark trousers that clung to my legs, loose-fitting but secure at the ankles. The movement sent a fresh wave of pain through my ribs, forcing a sharp breath from my lips. The assassin's kick had left its mark—a deep blue bruise spreading across my side like ink spilled on parchment.
I took the medicinal herbs and pressed them against the wound, biting back a groan. The sting burned through me, but I forced my fingers to keep working.
Just bear with it.
I wrapped a silk cloth over the bruise, tying it tightly around my waist. The pain dulled slightly, but it was still there—throbbing, reminding me of how close I had come to death.
I turned my attention to my arm next. The cut wasn't deep, but the skin had been torn open, leaving a thin trail of blood down to my wrist. I lifted it slightly, squinting in the dim light, but the angle made it difficult to see properly.
I reached for more herbs—
A sudden touch.
My breath hitched. My entire body went rigid.
Feng Leng's fingers wrapped around my arm, steady yet firm as he took the medicinal herb from my grasp. I hadn't even heard him move.
No—
My pulse pounded in my ears. My free hand trembled as I stared at him, my vision blurring.
He touched me.
A chill ran down my spine, colder than the night air. My throat tightened. My chest felt hollow. No, no, no—
Not again.
My fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into my palm as my entire body locked in place. My mind screamed at me to move, to pull away, but I was frozen, drowning in the realization of what would come next.
Another innocent life. Another death.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
I could already see it—the moment his skin would start to decay, the moment his breath would choke in his throat. Just like before.
Why? Why didn't he listen?
I tried to jerk my arm away, but his grip held firm. His brows furrowed, confused by my reaction.
"You're trembling," he muttered.
His voice sounded distant, muffled beneath the weight of my fear.
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
I could only watch, helpless, as death slowly curled its fingers around him.
And all because of me.
A monster. A curse.