Misunderstanding

Doubt lingered in Song Qingshu's eyes as he contemplated Zhang Wuji's words. Could his meridians truly be restored? Skepticism gnawed at him, for without a reputable name to vouch for the proposed treatment, it seemed nothing more than a desperate gamble.

"Brother Wuji, I appreciate your intentions, but I cannot allow myself to hold onto false hope. The odds of success, as you mentioned, are a mere 10 or 20 percent. Will you truly attempt this?" Song Qingshu's voice carried a hint of caution, his brows furrowing in contemplation.

Zhang Wuji sighed, his countenance reflecting the weight of his decision. "Senior Brother Song, I understand your reservations. The chances of success are indeed slim, but it is worth a try. Even a small possibility of restoration is better than resigning oneself to a lifetime of debilitation. Will you take the chance?"

Song Qingshu pondered Zhang Wuji's words, weighing the potential benefits against the risks. A glimmer of hope flickered within him, an ember in the darkness of his despair. To him, even a one or two percent chance held promise, a beacon of light amidst his bleak existence. If Zhang Wuji possessed the ability to alleviate his suffering, then perhaps there was a glimmer of redemption for himself as well.

"Brother Wuji, I am willing to give it a shot. Even the slightest chance of improvement is a ray of hope I refuse to ignore," Song Qingshu declared, determination etched in his eyes. The desperation that had gripped him for so long was now tinged with the possibility of relief.

Zhao Min, ever cautious, interjected with concern. "Brother Wuji, perhaps it would be best to reconsider. Healing Song Qingshu's injury may only invite further complications and rumors. It could tarnish your reputation."

Zhang Wuji's voice resonated with conviction as he assured Zhao Min, "Do not worry, I am aware of the consequences. I understand the risks involved."

Zhao Min's worries persisted, but she remained silent, trusting in Zhang Wuji's judgment despite her reservations.

"Miss Zhao, I assure you that if the treatment fails, Song Qingshu will bear no ill will. I accept the consequences of this endeavor," Song Qingshu declared, surprising both Zhao Min and Zhou Zhiruo with his magnanimous disposition.

Zhou Zhiruo, her heart heavy with guilt, found solace in Song Qingshu's unexpected acceptance. She voiced her support, her voice tinged with gratitude, "Master Zhang, please do your best. My husband and I...we will forever be indebted to you."

Song Qingshu's initial concern about Zhang Wuji's ulterior motives gradually dissipated. He reasoned that if Zhang Wuji intended to harm him, he would not have made such a public promise to heal him. In fact, Song Qingshu realized that if he were to be successfully treated, it would serve as a testament to Zhou Zhiruo's past actions. The martial world, aware of their history, would undoubtedly view Zhang Wuji as a vile usurper, and Song Qingshu saw an opportunity to reclaim his honor.

Days turned into weeks as Zhang Wuji diligently administered acupuncture, prescribed medications, and guided Song Qingshu through rigorous therapeutic exercises. The toll on Zhang Wuji's own internal strength was evident, but he remained resolute in his pursuit of healing.

Amidst this arduous process, a peculiar sentiment began to stir within Song Qingshu. A sense of remorse washed over him, for in his rival's benevolence, he found himself indebted to the very man he had despised.

"Take your medicine, Qingshu," Zhou Zhiruo said softly, her voice carrying a mix of concern and tenderness. She approached with a bowl of dark Chinese medicine, raising it to his lips and carefully feeding him spoonfuls.

As Song Qingshu leaned against Zhou Zhiruo's embrace, he couldn't help but notice the supple contours of her body and the delicate scent that enveloped her. A momentary pause washed over him, his thoughts drifting into contemplation. Despite this period of vulnerability, he remained vigilant, ever watchful for any signs of deceit. Each night, he remained on guard, wary of a repetition of the incident where Zhang Wuji attempted to steal the Fragrant Jade from him. However, as days passed without any irregularities and no one came to manipulate his acupoints, Song Qingshu's attention turned to Zhao Min. The princess possessed an astute mind and was far from an ordinary character. With her shrewdness, it was unlikely that she would remain oblivious to Zhang Wuji's frequent encounters with Zhou Zhiruo. If Zhao Min had discovered their clandestine meetings and remained silent, she could rightfully claim the title of a cunning and unparalleled strategist.

After a few days, Song Qingshu noticed an undeniable change in Zhou Zhiruo's physique. Her bosom seemed to have grown fuller once again. While sipping the medicine she offered, Song Qingshu's eyes subtly traced the contours of the beautiful woman beside him, a mischievous smile curling his lips. Yet, in that fleeting moment, a terrible suspicion gripped him, causing his smile to fade abruptly.

"Zhiruo, I'm feeling unwell in my stomach. I need to step outside for a moment," Song Qingshu feigned discomfort, his face twisted in apparent agony.

Zhou Zhiruo pursed her lips, concern etched across her features, as she rose from her seat and arranged her dress, making way for him. Song Qingshu hastened to a nearby hut, ensuring no one was in sight, before swiftly extending his finger to his throat, scratching it forcefully. The potion he had just consumed was promptly expelled from his body.

It dawned on him that his earlier observation of Zhou Zhiruo's increasing fullness was a consequence of her intimate encounters with another man. While he had been vigilant against their nighttime trysts, it hadn't occurred to him to consider the possibility of their daytime indiscretions.

In the broad daylight, Song Qingshu had unwittingly lowered his guard. He hadn't paid much attention to the moments of drowsiness that followed each dose of medicine, dismissing them as mere side effects akin to the lethargy caused by some Western medications he had encountered in his previous life.

Returning to their chamber, Song Qingshu feigned exhaustion, his eyelids fluttering as if on the verge of sleep. Soon enough, he appeared to succumb to slumber.

"Qingshu, Qingshu?" Zhou Zhiruo gently nudged him, perplexed by his sudden and profound sleepiness. "Why do you always fall asleep so quickly after taking the medicine?"

"No need to call out, the Ten-Flavored Soft Tendon Medicine I administered renders him unconscious for at least an hour," Zhang Wuji's voice resonated suddenly, jolting Song Qingshu. Before he could react, the lethargy enveloped his body once more, immobilizing him.

Comprehending the implications of their conversation, Song Qingshu's anger surged like a volcanic eruption. He chuckled bitterly, realizing how naive he had been to believe that they were truly attempting to heal him. It had all been a ruse, a convenient cover for their illicit affair.

"What do you mean by this, Zhang Wuji?" Zhou Zhiruo's face contorted in a mix of concern and apprehension as she tilted her head to confirm Song Qingshu's breathing. Satisfied that he was merely unconscious, she turned her gaze back to Zhang Wuji, her expression darkening.

"Otherwise, we won't have the freedom to discuss matters concerning ourselves. It's always inconvenient if he's awake," Zhang Wuji remarked, his gaze fixed upon the unconscious Song Qingshu.

"Master Zhang, I implore you to respect my wishes!" Zhou Zhiruo's voice grew colder, laced with a hint of authority. "While I did promise to reconcile with you before, I owe Song Qingshu a debt. You must heal him. Otherwise, a lingering sense of guilt will forever weigh upon my heart, and it would be impossible for me to show you any kindness."

Zhang Wuji fell silent for a moment, then replied, "That is only natural."

"Do you truly possess the ability to cure Qingshu?" Zhou Zhiruo inquired skeptically, detecting a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Zhang Wuji hesitated briefly before confessing, "Qingshu's meridians are irreparably damaged. It's beyond the scope of conventional medicine and techniques to heal him completely. While I maintain a certain level of confidence, I may have exaggerated my capabilities."

"So, you merely seized the opportunity to approach me under the pretense of treating Qingshu!" Zhou Zhiruo's eyes blazed with anger. "No wonder he falls into a deep slumber every time he takes your medicine. It's all your doing!"

"What other choice did I have? Rumors would undoubtedly reach your ears sooner or later, and they wouldn't bode well for either of us," Zhang Wuji replied with a bitter smile.

"I won't pursue our previous matters, but you must heal Qingshu," Zhou Zhiruo declared firmly.

"Are you... genuinely concerned about him?" Zhang Wuji's voice carried a tinge of jealousy.

"Perhaps it's merely an excuse to persuade me to abandon my husband and be with you," Zhou Zhiruo's tone grew melancholic. "Brother Wuji, you understand what people desire from you, but I am a married woman with my own obligations."

"I apologize if I have erred, Sister Zhiruo," Zhang Wuji quickly interjected.

"You possess remarkable medical skills; how can you fail to cure Qingshu's injuries?" A sudden thought flashed through Zhou Zhiruo's mind as she observed him intently. "Could it be that your jealousy as a man drove you to intentionally harm him?"

"No, that's not true," Zhang Wuji hastily waved his hand. "I have done everything in my power."

Zhou Zhiruo continued to scrutinize him, her gaze unwavering until he began to appear uneasy. Finally, she spoke with a hint of detachment, "Very well, I will trust you for now. However, this kind of treatment cannot continue. I will take Qingshu back to Emei and seek the means to heal him there. Once you have devised a solution, you can approach me again."

Zhang Wuji opened his mouth, intending to say something, but Zhou Zhiruo denied him the chance, her voice icy, "Go now, escort Master Zhang out."

As Zhang Wuji departed, a sense of helplessness etched upon his face, Zhou Zhiruo muttered to herself, "Brother Wuji, I know you are capable of saving him. The question is whether you are willing to pay such a steep price for my sake."