Sharing a Room

Liang Yun examined her injury briefly, then released his hold.

“The bone isn’t hurt,” he said.

Yingshi breathed a deep sigh of relief. If the bone had been broken, it would have meant a hundred days of recovery; even with proper care, she wouldn’t hope to get out of bed in a month or two. A sprain, however, would heal in three or five days—unfortunate, but blessed amidst misfortune.

Yet, the pain was so intense that she couldn’t even stand. How was she to walk the mountain path?

Tears still lingered at the corners of Yingshi’s eyes. She clutched her skirt, lost and helpless.

The sky was bright and clear; sunlight filtered through the leaves, falling across Liang Yun’s clean brows and eyes, scattering flecks of gold over his face like splintered sunlight.

He crouched down before her.

“Come, I’ll carry you.”

Yingshi was caught entirely off guard. At such close proximity, the man’s broad back was right before her, but her mind was adrift, and she felt too embarrassed to climb onto him.

She tried to stand, stubbornly insisting, but her determination only betrayed her—she inhaled sharply in pain and sank back down.

Liang Yun turned his head slightly, his deep eyes reflecting a faint image of her. “If we wait until nightfall, the forest will be full of beasts hunting.”

His words startled Yingshi. She had no way out and could only muster her courage. “Then I’ll trouble you, elder brother.”

The girl’s frame was slender and delicate, her plain robe and simple skirt outlining her graceful figure.

She rolled up her cloud-like sleeves, her fine wrist slowly reaching to his back.

His shoulders were wide and straight, his waist narrow. As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her face was inevitably close to his.

She could count every eyelash on Liang Yun’s face, and see the high bridge of his nose.

Yingshi paused, surprised at how long a man’s eyelashes could be.

Thick, but not at all feminine.

Truthfully, this elder brother’s appearance was outstanding; his temperament seemed cold, but he had cared for her all the way without a word of complaint, and now he carried her without hesitation.

She ought to be grateful.

But—Yingshi’s lips curled in a self-deprecating smile.

Back then, when she had no other option but to write him for help, he had returned her letters time and again for breaking protocol.

In the end…he had even written to scold her.

At that time, she was gravely ill, hoping he might show fairness just once. She had seen him as her only salvation, but he ignored her pleas.

That had nearly been the final straw that crushed her will to live. With no other way, she could only wait day by day for death.

Time passed, and when Yingshi thought back to it, she still could not free herself from that painful memory.

It had been foolish of her…how could she have hoped he would save her?

The truth was clear: Liang Ji was his brother. How could she expect him to uphold justice and help an outsider against his own kin?

Yes.

This land of the Liang family was rotten to the core; how could it nurture anyone with a conscience?

Liang Yun’s willingness to help her unconditionally was only because she had sacrificed everything to marry his brother…

Yingshi restrained her pain and resentment, trying to breathe gently, not too close to him.

Yet inevitably, with every breath, she caught the faint scent that lingered on his body.

If she smelled carefully, it wasn’t just the fragrance of soap; there was a subtle aroma of medicine, bitter and cool, but unexpectedly not unpleasant.

It almost seemed to have a calming power.

Yingshi’s swirling emotions were soothed bit by bit by that scent, so much so that her resentments faded for the moment, replaced by a sense of peace and fatigue.

Since she was exhausted, she decided not to think about anything.

Her breathing, tense at first, gradually became as light as the softest feather on a fan, brushing gently against Liang Yun’s cheek.

…

Past noon, the sun was at its peak.

Every inch of earth beneath their feet radiated heat.

The air was thick with the scent of grass and trees, mingled with the tang of soil, forming an invisible net.

The farther they walked, the heavier the air, humid and oppressive.

Though it was only May, it felt as if summer had already arrived.

The dense forest was teeming with insects.

At first, Yingshi was diligent in reciprocating kindness—he carried her, so she helped him by shooing away the bothersome mosquitoes, doing her part for Liang Yun.

But she had hardly slept the previous night, and the journey had worn her out. Now that she was being carried, she was comfortable and at ease.

Within half an hour, her eyelids drooped, her head bobbing on Liang Yun’s shoulder as she drifted in and out of sleep.

In her drowsiness, she felt hot and suffocated, thirsty and hungry. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, her ankle throbbed with pain.

Mosquitoes buzzed incessantly in her ears, thoroughly irritating.

Even in sleep, her mind was muddled, but her hand instinctively swung toward the nearest buzzing sound.

Smack—

Her soft palm landed.

Her hand was as tender and warm as a cat’s belly.

She felt a tingling, gritty sensation in her palm, as if she’d rubbed against sand.

She turned her head and slowly opened her eyes, only then realizing where her hand had landed.

Yingshi swallowed, pressing her lips together, unsure how to explain.

Her eyes, which she tried to avert, furtively swept over Liang Yun’s face. She watched as a flush rose slowly on his overly pale cheeks.

He looked as if he was suppressing anger.

Liang Yun was angry—

Yingshi realized her blunder and quickly brought her fair hand before his eyes to explain. “Um, I saw a mosquito land on your face…”

As she spoke, she swiftly blew on her palm, concealing the imaginary mosquito’s corpse before he could see it.

But her breath was a bit too strong, and most of it landed on his ear.

Liang Yun’s brows furrowed even more deeply.

Yingshi dared not say another word.

For the rest of the journey, she remained quiet and obedient, clinging to his back, even her breathing cautious.

…

The notion that they could leave the forest in a single day was nothing but Liang Yun’s fabrication, meant to calm her.

The foot of the mountain was dozens of miles away. The rugged mountain paths were far too much for Liang Yun to traverse in one day while carrying her.

As the sun began to set, danger followed close behind.

Withered branches, wild grasses, dense new shrubs, and the rustling sounds from the shadows behind them.

From the depths of the forest came a beastly roar, the source unknown.

Yingshi’s pale face was full of dread as she glanced warily around, fearful that she might be devoured by a wild animal at any moment.

Liang Yun finally stopped at a hillside.

Neither had drunk a drop since the previous night, and thirst gnawed at them.

Just as Yingshi thought she would die of thirst, she heard the sound of flowing water. Looking in the direction of the sound, she saw a stream not far away, winding through the green peaks and deep woods.

For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating.

Until Liang Yun set her down on a smooth rock.

On either side of the stream, branches intertwined like emerald canopies. Wildflowers and grasses carpeted the ground, their leaves and the stream’s ripples shimmering under the glow of sunset.

All the tension on Yingshi’s face vanished as she took in the scene.

“Tomorrow, we’ll follow the stream. We should soon find a village,” Liang Yun said.

But Yingshi was no longer listening.

She could no longer force herself to endure; her body was sticky and damp. Now, seeing the stream, she could not resist and hobbled to its edge.

She rolled up her sleeves, scooped up the clear water, and drank deeply, coughing as she gulped it down.

She turned to look, and indeed saw Liang Yun had tactfully turned his back, walking to the other side of the rock.

Yingshi slipped off her shoes and soaked her injured foot in the stream to ease the pain.

She eagerly cupped water and splashed it over her flushed cheeks. The cool stream washed over her sunburned skin, and Yingshi felt nothing could be more comfortable.

Every inch of her skin seemed to shed its barriers, breathing freely.

She rested for a long while, only realizing how dark it had become when she went to look for Liang Yun.

But the other side of the rock was empty.

Yingshi’s face changed, and she hurriedly grasped the rock to stand, nearly sinking back from the pain in her ankle.

“Brother?” Her voice trembled.

She felt abandoned.

It was night, and they had not yet left the forest. If he stayed, he might end up as prey for wild beasts…

“I’m here.”

Suddenly, Yingshi heard Liang Yun’s voice behind her.

In a short time, he had circled the area. Hearing her anxious call, his heart skipped, and he quickened his pace to return.

He had thought she might be in danger, but when he arrived, he saw her bare feet like pale lotus roots, and awkwardly turned away.

Liang Yun did not understand her anxious thoughts. He had seen her washing, and deliberately left her alone for privacy.

He hadn’t expected it would frighten her.

“I circled the area. Not far from here is a thatched hut. Though a bit shabby, it will shelter us from the wind and rain. Tonight…my sister-in-law will have to endure it for a night.”