A few days later, Spirit Pool Peak.
Outside the window, the green bamboo grove swayed gently in the breeze. The rustle of leaf tips brushing together was like a long, lingering ballad. Sunlight slanted through the half-open bamboo window, casting diamond-shaped patches of light across the floor. One beam happened to fall upon Shen Yuxi's shoulder, making the exposed strip of skin gleam pearly white.
Shen Yuxi sat on the bamboo couch by the window, his robe removed. He turned slightly to reveal his upper body, wrapped thickly in bandages—the snow-white strips wound from his neck all the way to his waist, layer upon layer, airtight as a silkworm cocoon waiting to break open, concealing the wounds within completely.
Song Zhiyi stood beside the couch, lowering his head as he untied the knot at the end of the bandages. The youth's expression was focused, carrying a steadiness beyond his years. His movements were light and sure, his long fingers deftly weaving between the strips of cloth.
The bandages loosened coil by coil, and the medicine-scented cloth slipped onto the couch, exposing the skin beneath as it gradually healed. Places that had once been blackened and charred, scabbed over and peeled away, even forcibly cut free of rotten flesh, had now grown tender new skin, delicate as that of a newborn babe, though its color stood out sharply from the surrounding skin.
Song Zhiyi leaned closer to inspect it carefully for a moment, then fished a piece of soft cotton cloth from the wooden basin beside him and wrung it dry.
The warm-water-soaked cloth was at just the right temperature as it gently covered Shen Yuxi's wounds, wiping away the remaining ointment bit by bit. Brown medicine stains spread along the cloth's edge, revealing increasingly even new flesh beneath.
Shen Yuxi