Li Mei half-dragged, half-carried him back to his hovel. The journey was a blur of white-hot pain
for Ren Wei. His arm was a useless, burning weight. He was shivering, his body going into
shock.
She was frantic, crying, and utterly terrified. But beneath the panic, there was a strange, grim
efficiency. She didn't have any real medicine, but she found the 'Stone-Knot' root she'd given
him before. She made him chew it, his teeth grinding against the bitter fiber. She tore a strip of
cloth from her own inner robe—a sacrifice he dimly registered as significant—and found two flat
pieces of wood.
"This... this will hurt," she whispered, her voice thick with tears.
"Just... do it," Ren Wei gasped through his clenched teeth.
She set the arm. He screamed into a piece of bundled cloth she'd shoved in his mouth. He was
vaguely aware he'd blacked out for a second. When he came to, his arm was splinted, his body
was on fire, and his spirit was shattered.
"I'm sorry, Ren Wei," she sobbed, kneeling by his mat, her tears falling on his dirty robe. "I'm so
sorry. I was... I was so scared. I'm useless."
"Not... your... fault," he managed to hiss. He was filled with a chilling, profound rage—not at her,
but at Jiao. At this world. At his own, pathetic weakness.
They sat in the dark, miserable hovel. The silence was broken only by her quiet sobs and his
pained, shallow breathing. They were back at square one, but infinitely worse. He was crippled.
They had an enemy. And Jiao would come back.
"I... I'll get you some water," Li Mei said, her voice shaking as the moon began to rise, its pale
light a cold mockery. "And... and a fresh poultice. I'll... I'll see if I can find another root."
"Mei... it's dark," he mumbled. "It's not safe."
"I'll be quick," she said. She gave him one last look, her eyes wide and dark with a an emotion
he couldn't name—it was more than just fear. Then, she slipped out of the hovel like a shadow.
She was gone for a long time.
Ren Wei, feverish and in agony, drifted in and out of a nightmare-fueled doze. He didn't know
how much time had passed. One hour? Three? He just knew that the hovel felt incredibly cold
without her.
He was finally drifting into a true, deep unconsciousness when she returned. He felt her hand,
cold from the night air, touch his forehead.
"I'm here," she whispered, her voice strangely flat. "Go to sleep, Ren Wei. Everything will be
okay."
He did.
The next morning, the outer sect was buzzing. The usual, morose silence was broken by sharp,
excited whispers. The news spread faster than a plague.
Senior Brother Jiao was found.
He was at the bottom of the ravine that ran behind the latrines. The one used to dump... waste.
He wasn't dead. Ren Wei's first, savage thought was 'Good.' His second, more rational thought,
was 'Wait.'
The whispers continued. He'd "slipped." It was dark, the path was muddy. He must have been
practicing a movement technique and failed, the gossips said.
But the details were what made everyone's blood run cold.
He hadn't just fallen. He had landed, with a horrific, preternatural precision, on a jagged,
up-thrusting spike of rock. It had shattered both of his kneecaps.
And that wasn't the worst of it.
In his "fall," he'd also somehow managed to crack his dantian. But the most terrifying part, the
part that made even the outer-sect elders shiver, was that he was found with his mouth stuffed full of... night-soil. He had been "mysteriously" poisoned, not with a cultivator's alchemical
poison, but with a filthy, mortal one.
He was alive. But his cultivation was gone. His legs were ruined. He was less than trash. He
was a living corpse, and he would spend the rest of his short, miserable life being tended to by
the lowest, non-cultivating servants. A fate worse than death.
An outer-sect elder had come, looked at the "accident," and left, declaring it "a lesson in
carelessness." Jiao had no powerful family, no backing. No one cared enough to look deeper.
Ren Wei sat on his mat, his splinted arm throbbing. His first feeling was a profound, ugly, utterly
human relief. The threat was gone.
His second feeling was a deep, penetrating, mind-numbing cold.
He was just piecing it together. The ravine... behind the latrines. The smell in their hidden grove.
She knew that area. She'd been gone for hours.
The hovel door opened.
Li Mei entered, carrying his morning gruel. She looked pale. Exhausted. There were dark circles
under her eyes. She looked, for all the world, like a girl who had been up all night, terrified and
worried.
She knelt by his mat. "Ren Wei," she said, her voice a soft, concerned whisper. "Did you... did
you hear the news?" Her eyes were wide, her lower lip trembling just a little. "About Jiao... it's...
it's terrible."
Ren Wei stared at her. He didn't see the shy, kind girl who had given him a bun. He didn't see
the terrified, crying victim from the grove.
He saw... something else. He saw the strange, flat-calm in her voice when she'd returned last
night. He saw the hours she was missing. He saw the precision of Jiao's "accident." Shattered
knees. A cracked dantian. A poisoned, filth-stuffed mouth.
This wasn't an accident. This was a message. This was poetic. This was psychological.
"Mei," he said, his voice hoarse. His throat was suddenly bone-dry. "You were gone a long time
last night."
Her face crumpled.
It was a work of art. The way her eyes instantly filled with tears, the way her chin trembled, the
way a look of profound, devastating hurt washed over her features—it was flawless.
"Ren Wei?" she whispered, and her voice broke, as if he had just stabbed her. "How... how
could you...?" She shook her head, a tear tracing a clean path down her cheek. "I was... I was
hiding. I was crying. I was out there, in the dark, trying to find a single herb for you, terrified
Jiao's friends would... would find me."
She looked at him, her eyes overflowing. "I'm not... I'm not a monster. I'm not a murderer. He...
he fell. It's... it's karma. The heavens... the heavens punished him for what he did to you!"
Ren Wei's logical, analytical, psychologist's mind was reeling. He was confused. Her reaction
was text-book. Guilt? No. This was the reaction of someone wrongfully accused. It was perfect.
Too perfect.
But... he had no proof. He had nothing. He was injured. He was weak. He was alone.
Except for her.
He needed her. He needed her to be the kind, shy, gentle girl who brought him food. He needed
her to be the terrified, helpless victim. For his own sanity, for his own survival, he could not
believe the alternative.
"You're right," Ren Wei said, the words feeling like ash in his mouth. He forced his features into
a pained smile. "You're right. I'm... I'm sorry, Mei. My arm... the pain... I'm not thinking straight."
Her expression softened, the "hurt" slowly replaced by "forgiveness" and "pity." She sniffled,
wiping her eyes. "It's... it's okay, Ren Wei. You're hurt. I understand." She helped him sit up, placing the bowl of gruel in his good hand. "Here. Eat. You need to get
your strength back."
He ate the thin, watery gruel, his eyes on his bowl. He was aware of her, kneeling beside him,
watching him with her dark, "concerned" eyes.
The seed of suspicion had been planted. But Ren Wei, with his own two hands, was forced to
bury it. He had to.
He didn't see the look on her face as she turned to leave the hovel. He didn't see the tears
vanish. He didn't see the wounded, gentle expression replaced by a cold, flat, reptilian stillness.
He just knew, deep in his gut, that Senior Brother Jiao would not be their last problem. And he
was terrified that his only ally was, perhaps, more dangerous than any enemy.