"Yun Jiangjun, are you feeling better now?" After seeing An Ziyuan close the door, Su Yan propped himself up and asked. "Ah, yes, quite a bit better. How about Su Gongzi—have you improved?" Walking to the bedside, Yun Rao smiled gently and inquired. Seeing the faint blush on her pale lips and the subtle bashfulness in her demeanor, Su Yan found himself slightly embarrassed, his words stumbling slightly. "Better... much better." Observing his awkward posture, Yun Rao couldn't help but smile softly, sitting down by the bed and gazing at him. "Why did Su Gongzi risk his life to save me that day?" "I... I don't know," Su Yan said, unable to meet her gaze, lowering his eyes. Only then did his voice regain its steadiness. "I just didn't want to see Yun Jiangjun hurt." Yun Rao looked at him intently, momentarily stunned. Their interactions had never been particularly deep—she had even deceived him with her beauty. What could possibly have made him so willing to sacrifice himself? Even a man who had spent nights entwined with her on the bed, who had made promises to her, would never have feared her getting hurt. Su Yan had been looking at Yun Rao for a long time without speaking, so he finally lifted his head to find Yun Rao gazing at him in a daze, her face blushing involuntarily. She asked in a stiff tone, "What's wrong, Miss Yun?" Yun Rao regained her composure and said, "Nothing." Su Yan found himself at a loss for words, while Yun Rao merely lowered her eyes, silent, unsure of what to say—only there to check if he was recovering well. The atmosphere in the room grew somewhat heavy and still. Su Yan seemed particularly uncomfortable with this quietness, smiling awkwardly and striving to find a new topic. "Is it true that Miss Yun and Mr. An are getting close in their relationship?" Yun Rao's lips curled slightly in a self-deprecating gesture, and she shook her head. "Not yet." "Why not?" Su Yan seemed genuinely concerned. "Does Mr. An not wish to marry you?" Yun Rao shook her head again. "I won't marry him." "Why? Because of this incident?" "No." "Yun Rao gently rose, "Master Su, please rest well. Thank you so much for risking your life to save mine. I fear I can never repay you fully in this life. Should we meet again in a future life, I will surely repay you faithfully." Turning to face away, she stepped back. "Yun Madam..." Su Yan hesitated, then finally spoke, "Shall I be able to take care of you in the future?" Yun Rao smiled gently, gazing at him. "Does Su Sir truly like me?" Su Yan had briefly looked embarrassed, but still nodded. "Then I cannot let Su Sir down," Yun Rao replied, her smile slightly uncertain as she gently withdrew her hand from his. "Su Sir is such a kind and generous person—no one has ever treated me with such care and attention as you have. I am deeply grateful and touched, yet I must confess that I can no longer repay you as I once hoped. Should we meet again in a future life, I will love Su Sir alone, and I will marry him alone." With that, she didn't give Su Yan a chance to speak or plead, and hurriedly opened the door and went away. As the door swung open, she found An Zi yuan leaning against the column by the doorway, back resting against it, his head slightly tilted upward, quietly gazing at the ceiling, his expression calm and distant, almost ethereal. He slowly turned his gaze from the roof back to her face. His Adam's apple rolled up and down as he began to speak, his voice soft and low, almost husky. "Have you gone back?" Yun Rao lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze, and nodded gently. "Yes." He walked over, supporting her, gripping her arm with a firm hold—almost as if he intended to press down on it, yet struggled to suppress the effort. Yun Rao knew he could hear their conversation; there was only a door between them. His internal energy was strong, and though she and Su Yan hadn't deliberately lowered their voices, it would have been difficult for him not to hear unless they had specifically chosen to ignore each other. Throughout the journey, neither of them spoke. He simply guided her back to the room, helped her lie down on the bed, and tucked the covers neatly around her. As she closed her eyes to rest, his fingers gently brushed her cheeks. "Yun Rao," he called her name softly, as though there was something he wanted to say, yet nothing came out. She closed her eyes without responding. His hand reached through the blanket, grasping hers firmly and tightly, as if he were pressing her entire hand into his palm. "Yun Rao," his low, hoarse voice echoed in her ear, still clear yet carrying the weight of great suffering—desiring to say something, yet as though every word had already been lost to time. "Master An, I would like to rest a while. Would you mind if I rest alone?" Yun Rao slowly opened her eyes, gazing at him with calm composure. "...Yes." His voice was thick, as though something were lodged in his throat, yet he nodded gently. "Come to me whenever you need me." "Thank you!" Yun Rao offered a warm, gentle smile. A wistful sadness passed through his eyes. He tightened his grip on her hand suddenly, lowering his head as though intent on kissing her lips—yet paused, still caught by her steady gaze. He looked into her eyes. "Rest well." With a soft, broken murmur, he turned and walked away. Yun Rao watched his back, unconsciously biting her lower lip. The door closed behind her, yet two streams of tears slowly traced their way down her cheeks. Her right hand instinctively rested on her left chest—though it had been so many days now, the lingering pain from Xiao Run's palm and Xiang Jinfei's sword still made her feel sore. That wound, which had been there for a long time, had endured each blow: first from him, then from Xiao Run, then from Xiang Jinfei—each one a parting, yet still she bore daily wounds. In her mind, images of his past tenderness and the gentle intimacy of their shared nights kept flashing—just recently, he had been beside her on the bed, whispering softly into her ear, promising to protect her first. But now, all she could see were the passing hands and the long sword that had plunged deep into her. The warmth of those early days now felt like fresh wounds. In the end, he was merely a man alone. Silent tears turned into soft sobs, gradually deepening into uncontrollable choking sobs. She pressed her hands firmly against her lips, striving to muffle the rising sobs, only to find it all in vain. After waking up for so many days, she had never cried so profoundly before—yet she couldn't recall why. The pain in her wounds was unbearable, and she could only endure it, refusing to move. Wu Chang and Qu Xiaoman stood by, their faces filled with compassion, listening to the stifled sobs coming from inside the room, yet unsure of what to do. Qu Xiaoman had grown up alongside Yun Rao, and though she had endured countless hardships over the years, she had never cried so deeply and painfully as she did today. She had always been cheerful and composed, never once feeling as utterly desperate as she did now. Yun Rao had almost entirely withdrawn into the quilt, one hand pressed against her chest and the other over her lips, crying so hard that it aggravated her chest wound, causing a piercing, unbearable pain. Yet she could not stop, only tightening her chest over and over, as if trying to suppress the tears, only to pull at the still-healing wound and tear it further, her palms now damp with moisture. The pain radiated from her chest outward, gradually transforming into the familiar, cramping ache she had known for years—like countless snakes crawling through her body, fine and tingling—so subtle and pervasive that it was now difficult to tell whether it stemmed from a cut wound, an internal injury, or a toxic one. She curled up in pain, drenched in cold sweat, convulsing until she rolled off the bed and crashed into the table by the bed, knocking over a teacup that shattered into a loud, scattered array on the floor. When An Zi yuan had swiftly pushed open the door at the moment she fell off the bed, he looked up and his face immediately changed—he saw Yun Rao curled on the floor, her chest now stained with blood, the broken porcelain scattered everywhere. With trembling, blood-streaked hands, she reached out desperately toward the sharpest fragment. Yun Rao was unaware that the door had been opened. Her pain had already blurred her consciousness so much that she could still feel the sharp, piercing ache with a deep, unyielding clarity. After all, she wouldn’t last much longer. She would be alone anyway. Why endure more pain, more fatigue, just for a few more days? As long as she could cut through, the pain would cease, and she would no longer be alone. The hand that had been reaching for the broken porcelain was firmly intercepted, and she was tightly held in place, her convulsions gently restrained. She struggled to lift her blurred gaze, meeting a pair of familiar yet foreign dark eyes—eyes filled with sorrow and disbelief that were entirely unfamiliar to her. "Please... please..." she shook her arms, her head trembling as she instinctively nodded and shook it, tears rolling down in large drops, her voice trembling and choked. "Help... help me. I don't want... it hurts so much..." By the end of her words, she was sobbing so hard she could barely speak, yet her grip on her chest grew stronger, as if she were trying to tear it apart. An Zi yuan quickly reached out, catching her hand and whispering her name softly against her ear. "Is there a cold pool nearby? We need to take the young lady there immediately—she'll feel better if she stays in the pool." Qu Xiaoman's choked voice echoed in his ear. "But the injuries on Yun Jiang's body..." Wu Chang stared at the blood that had nearly soaked half of Yun Rao's body, his voice urgent. "If she doesn't go into the pool, she won't make it through the night. Qu Xiao-man cut in urgently, kneeling down beside Yun Rao with a choked voice, her hands trembling as she grasped hers. "Miss..." yet she couldn't think of what else to say. Yun Rao struggled to turn her head toward Qu Xiao-man, her tears flowing more fiercely than ever. "Xiao-man... help me... help me... I don't want to... it hurts so much..." Her breath came in heavy, broken sobs, making it nearly impossible for her to speak. An Zi-yuan gently but firmly held her close, disregarding her struggles, lifted her off her feet with a swift movement of his martial arts skill, and carried her straight toward the cold pool behind the mountain. Yun Rao lay weakly against his chest, several times trying to push him away due to the pain, but he held her tightly, carrying her swiftly to the nearest pool covered with floating ice. Without hesitation, he carried her into the icy pool and positioned her near the shore, cradling her closely in his arms so that the cold water wouldn't reach her chest wound. With one hand pressed firmly against her back, he continuously infused her with inner energy. Yun Rao shivered in the icy water, the combined effect of the cold and her internal energy slightly easing the intense pain within her. She leaned weakly against his chest, her hands helplessly clutching at his clothes, her voice trembling and frail, "No... it's enough... it's useless..." Yet he seemed entirely unhearing, persistently cradling her in his arms, his palm pressed against her back still steadily channeling internal energy into her body. She struggled fiercely, clenching her fists against his chest, crying out with all her strength, "Stop! Stop! You've heard me, you've heard me—how many times have I said it's no use? You truly care for me—just one stroke, one decisive blow, and it's all over. Please, please, I beg you! I don't want to go through this every day!" By the end of her words, she was weeping uncontrollably, her hands now gripping her chest, already streaked with blood, trying to hold back the fierce, surging pain radiating from within. Yet An Zi yuan pulled her down, supporting her body with his own, his hands cradling her face, his long fingers weaving into her hair. He lowered his head and kissed her lips, silencing her struggle. With the other hand, he maintained an unyielding force, steadily channeling his internal energy into her, helping to suppress the turbulent toxins swirling within her. As the sun rose in the east, the poison within Yun Rao's body finally began to subside gradually. After a night of severe illness compounded by the toxic attack, her complexion had turned entirely ashen, and she lay weakly, barely breathing, her body pressed against his chest, with no strength left to speak. An Zi Yuan trembled, lifting her hand to take her pulse. As soon as he raised her wrist, his gaze shifted slightly—on her wrist, a fierce red line had already spread from the palm up to the wrist itself, making his face pale as paper.