Chapter 181: You’ll drive yourself mad one day
Their souls, displaced. Their memories like fragile porcelain, still intact, but at constant risk of shattering. They had wandered through realms unknown, leapt through time, only to land here—in a palace cloaked in lies, in a country rife with betrayal, under a sky where the sun rose just slightly wrong.
And in all that strangeness, she was the one thing that made sense. The only constant. The only home.
He looked down at her face again.
She was still out cold, her cheeks brushed with a hint of rose, her lashes long and still. She looked so at peace that it felt like a crime to be near her in this state, carrying as much weight as he did. He reached for the bowl of warm water Xia Lin had left and dipped the cloth in, wringing it with practiced fingers.
With soft, reverent movements, he brought the cloth to her face.
He started at her forehead, gently wiping away the last smudges of battle. Her skin was warm beneath the cloth, soft and still scented faintly of the jasmine oil she always used in her bath. His fingers trembled, but his touch remained steady as he worked downward—over her temples, down the curve of her cheek, the delicate slope of her neck.
He took his time. As if by tending to her wounds, he could somehow cleanse himself of the guilt gnawing at his heart.
Slowly, methodically, he moved on—wiping her arms, her hands, her delicate wrists that had wielded a blade with such grace and power just hours ago. He wiped away every trace of blood, every particle of dirt, every reminder of the violence she had endured.
And when she was clean again, her skin glistening faintly beneath the dim light, he reached for the change of clothes Xia Lin had left—soft silk, the color of pale lilac, embroidered with tiny gold-threaded cranes that shimmered in the candlelight.