Love like the Galaxy : Five Years Apart

Chapter- 21

"Couldn't you have found a better place to hide them?" Qiao Hui remarked.

"They were well hidden until you entered," she retorted with a hint of sarcasm.

He scoffed as he placed the mattress back in its original position.

"I was coming here to retrieve them," he admitted, shivering each time she peeled back the cloth.

Shaoshang hummed, her complete attention centered on the wound.

"No one asked you to intervene," she said coldly.

"Next time, I'll remember that, Lady Cheng," he replied, his eyes tightly shut.

A stillness settled in the room, punctuated occasionally by the shivers and hisses that escaped him.

"These wounds are still fresh," she observed.

"I didn't have time to tend to them," he responded, leaning forward as he began to breathe more heavily.

"They're not just bandits, are they?" she inquired.

He straightened his back and resumed his previous position, shaking his head in disagreement.

"Lady Cheng, what's your plan now?" he inquired, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

Shaoshang noticed the sheen of sweat on his face; it was clear he was running a fever.

"Regarding what?" she asked, her concern evident.

"Lady Cheng, by attacking a member of the royal family, you've opened the door to consequences. There's a chance that the fifth princess could lose her sight or experience permanent damage to her eyes," he warned.

"You're the one who knocked over the water container," she retorted.

He let out a scoff, a sound that mingled with a hiss of pain as he winced, shutting his eyes tightly and causing his body to arch slightly.

"Stay still; moving will only intensify the pain," she advised.

As she prepared to lift the damp cloth, he halted her with a firm tone, "Don't remove it! Let it stay for a few more minutes."

Remaining focused, Shaoshang maintained her hold on the damp cloth, gently applying it against his burned skin.

"Lady Cheng, what is your plan now?"

"I have nothing to fear. The fifth princess attacked me, and I acted in self-defense."

"And yet, you emerged unscathed. May I offer a potentially offensive observation?" he inquired.

She nodded, her quick movement caught by his reflexes. Swiftly, he positioned his right palm on the damp cloth, securing it by folding his arm across his chest. His long arms allowed him to easily reach the wound beneath his left shoulder.

His hand remained atop hers. She instinctively withdrew her hand due to the warmth emanating from his palm. It was clear that he was running a fever. In a sudden motion, he turned towards her, facing her directly.

With him turned toward her, she could see him clearly now. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and due to the pain, his face had lost all traces of color. His eyes were squeezed shut, causing them to redden. His breathing came unevenly, each inhale and exhale punctuated with a wince. Her heart ached for the pain he was enduring.

Her gaze involuntarily drifted to his neck, where a scar resembled a cut mark, as if someone had attempted to sever his throat. The extent of his injuries became even more evident as her eyes traced down his body. His chest was marked with a landscape of scars, burn marks, and stitches. It was clear that he had fought fiercely, with no concern for his own well-being. A compelling urge to touch those scars, as if to understand the stories behind each one, surged within her. However, her intentions were interrupted by his voice.