Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Bodhi Verse

Si Yan’s pupils trembled as he saw Ye Qianling collapse to the ground. His gaze flickered to the girl lying there, even in unconsciousness her brows remained furrowed in pain. He said nothing, merely stared at her with an expressionless face.

Having lost his mother at a young age and grown up treading carefully in the palace, Si Yan became adept at observing those around him. Throughout the trials in the Western Suburb and Southern Garden, he keenly noted Ye Qianling’s preferences and needs, using these observations to attempt to draw closer to her. Si Yan’s father, the current Emperor of Yan, never gave him much affection, but had told him long ago: the best way to control a woman is to capture her heart. Once a woman’s heart belongs to you, you can obtain anything you desire from her.

Si Yan always despised such manipulations, but now, as the seeds of imperial rivalry began to sprout, regardless of the means, he was determined to protect his rightful power and honor. The most crucial way to solidify his position was not to remain passive and endure, but to achieve tangible results for all to see, ensuring that the crown prince’s seat could belong to none other than himself. The Night Kingdom, Yan’s only rival on the continent, matched their military might. Gaining intelligence from Ye Qianling, who held a key post in Night’s army, would bring rewards beyond imagining.

Si Yan knew Ye Qianling’s health was poor. Though he was not one to meddle, he understood how much she needed genuine concern now. So he offered it, and found himself doing better than he had anticipated.

A sudden noise interrupted his thoughts. Looking up, Si Yan saw the innkeeper helping an old man down the stairs.

“What happened to this young lady? Why is she on the floor?” The innkeeper, descending the steps, spotted Ye Qianling lying there, her face contorted in pain. He hurried to assist the old man down.

Si Yan watched as the innkeeper and the elder knelt beside Ye Qianling, straightened his expression, and knelt as well. When the innkeeper asked, he calmly replied, “She lost consciousness from the pain just now. Please, doctor, attend to her.” His tone was flat, his words detached. He had meant to feign anxiety, to act the part of a frantic companion, but lacking an audience, he could not muster the proper emotion—such a contrast to his demeanor when Ye Qianling was awake.

Chen Guangyuan observed Si Yan, hesitating for a moment as if to speak, but eventually held his tongue. After finishing the examination, he seemed confident in his diagnosis and casually glanced at Si Yan. “You must be this young lady’s friend. Her injury is severe, and not tending to it is truly neglectful. Did none of you notice?”

His tone carried a hint of reproach, but he said no more. From the moment he descended the stairs, Chen Guangyuan had sensed that the term ‘friend’ might not quite fit their relationship. Standing, he instructed the innkeeper, “Young man, fetch warm water, needle and thread, and alcohol. Bring them to the second-floor treatment room.” He then turned to Si Yan. “Carry her upstairs and follow me.”

Si Yan hesitated for an instant; he knew well the boundaries between men and women, and while feigning concern was one thing, acting without permission was quite another. He remained rooted in place.

“What are you doing, young man? Carry her and come with me,” Chen Guangyuan, halfway up the stairs, noticed Si Yan’s lack of movement. He pointed impatiently at Ye Qianling lying on the floor.

A grown man being so hesitant over carrying a woman—how troublesome, Chen Guangyuan thought privately, his face showing displeasure though he kept silent. Seeing Si Yan finally lift Ye Qianling, he said nothing further and led him upstairs.

As Si Yan lifted Ye Qianling, an indescribable feeling flickered in his heart. Having never experienced love, he found it difficult to understand the beauty of human emotion. Yet, in that moment, something felt different—a strange tingling swept through him, but vanished as quickly as it came.

Ye Qianling was heavier than he expected.

Si Yan had never carried a girl before; he imagined their weight to be like the fifty-kilogram timbers he used to practice martial arts with. Years of training had made lifting timber effortless, but holding this girl was not the same. She was not as light as he had imagined, pressing uncomfortably on his arms. He wondered why so many men liked to lift girls, kiss them gently on the forehead, and whisper words that would make anyone blush. But as he pondered, the instant his skin touched hers, a wave of warmth rushed through him, as if he’d been injected with vitality. An unprecedented feeling surged through his body. He couldn’t help but glance at Ye Qianling’s tightly shut eyes; how soft her body felt in his embrace.

This was Si Yan's first physical contact with a girl his own age. At sixteen, he was not yet of marriageable age, and had spent his life at the center of power, surrounded mostly by men. He rarely interacted with women, and had never entertained any fantasies about love...

Yes, none at all. Si Yan did not believe in love—his parents had enacted a sordid drama of marriage before his eyes.

His mother was a noble lady with a bright future, but her life was ruined by a man.

At the time, Si Yan’s father was Yan’s second prince, with an older brother destined for the throne. Yet his father, ambitious and dissatisfied with being merely a prince, sought to strengthen his faction by targeting Si Yan’s mother, Qin Qing, the only daughter of Yan’s prime minister. He orchestrated meetings and romantic gestures, soon winning Qin Qing’s heart. With the emperor’s blessing, she became his lawful wife, bringing the prime minister’s support. The previously neutral Qin family tilted toward Si Yan’s father, breaking the political balance and paving his way to the throne.

Unexpectedly, in his first year as emperor, Si Yan’s father announced he had an eldest son, Si Lin. The son, previously Qin Qing’s only heir and the legitimate eldest, became merely the legitimate son. An eldest son’s status is permanent, but legitimacy can waver with a wife’s standing. The emperor also elevated another woman to the rank of noble consort.

In Yan, with an empress present, the title of noble consort rarely appeared. It was the highest rank among consorts, second only to the empress, and could threaten the empress’s position. Thus, where there was an empress, there would seldom be a noble consort.

Later, Qin Qing realized all the love she had received was a lie—there was no beautiful romance. The man she loved never truly loved her, yet she had sacrificed her life for him. She would spend her days trapped in the palace, a fate unacceptable for someone who yearned for love.

Because of this man, relations between Qin Qing and her father became strained. She gave everything for him, only to benefit others. Her health steadily declined and she soon passed away. At the end of her life, for reasons unknown and with some unspoken purpose, Qin Qing told her son: if you wish to accomplish great things, never fall in love, and remember this always.

Si Yan had carried those words for ten years, and it was precisely because of them that he scoffed at the notion of love.

Chen Guangyuan was startled when he saw Ye Qianling’s wound. He hadn’t expected, upon removing the cotton cloth, that the injury would be so severe. For a moment, he was frozen in shock.

The surgical stitches had long since torn open. Looking closely, one could see the white bone exposed, slightly blackened from oxidation. The stitched area was swollen, dense black threads embedded in the red, inflamed wound, creating a grotesque sight. The heat and the stifling cotton had bred nearly ten abscesses around the cut—such a scene was beyond what any human should endure.

Chen Guangyuan had a peculiar habit: if a wound was too minor, he wouldn’t treat it, telling patients to find someone else—the mark of a true eccentric healer. He had seen countless injuries, but to bear such wounds and still leap across the city rooftops as if unscathed—Ye Qianling was the first.

Confronted with such severity, Chen Guangyuan had to pause and gather his thoughts. He shook his head with a sigh, applied anesthesia, cleaned the wound, and began his work...

Ye Qianling awoke to faint sounds nearby. She tried to rub her unopened eyes, but her arm would not obey, lying motionless on the bed. Years on the battlefield had honed her senses; half a second later, she forced herself to calm down. Feeling the rough straw mat beneath her, she relaxed and regained her composure.

She knew she’d been anesthetized. Familiar with the effects, Ye Qianling listened for any movement, then softly asked, “Young Master Chi, are you here?” Her voice was cautious.

“Mm,” Si Yan replied. He had watched Ye Qianling since the surgery, feeling a bit weary from holding one position. Just as he shifted, he noticed her eyelids flutter, knowing she had awakened. He waited for her to speak.