Still Secretly In Love With My Enemy Today - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: 

Xie Huaishuang was more talkative than usual this morning. His chopsticks poked at the sugar cakes as he rambled from one thought to another. I had to warn him twice that it would get cold before he finally lowered his head and obediently finished his meal in a few bites.

In the beginning, he used to suddenly stop halfway through eating. When I asked if he disliked the food, he would just shake his head, his chopsticks resting against the plate. I always felt this behavior was familiar, and it was only later that I realized why.

—He acted exactly like the tricolor cat Senior Brother He picked up.

That cat is quite detestable now, knocking over my models and sauntering around with zero remorse, showing none of the caution it had when it was first rescued. Back then, it would always leave a bite in its bowl, terrified that once it was finished, there would never be another meal.

I had drifted off into thought for a long time that day. It took Xie Huaishuang calling me twice for me to snap out of it and notice he had left a hawthorn cake untouched. I pulled his hand toward me and told him that I would go wait in line again later; if he couldn’t finish today, he could eat tomorrow. If tomorrow’s food ran out, I would buy the day after’s mung bean cakes before then.

In short, in just a mere half a month, this man has easily developed some “bad habits.” He now decisively pushes away things he dislikes and buries his head in what he loves, even instructing me to remember which shop a certain snack came from so we can go back.

A situation like this morning, however, was rare.

“Physician Ye said,” I handed him a handkerchief, trying to guess the reason for his restlessness, “it’s just like a normal sleep. You won’t feel a thing. No need to be nervous.”

Xie Huaishuang lowered his head to wipe his hands clean. “I’m not nervous.”

Before he could finish, he looked up. Ye Jingwei had pushed open the courtyard gate right on time, a gust of wind swirling in and causing the flowers of varying heights to sway in succession.

“Eating this well?”

I glanced at the table. Sugar cakes, green vegetables, and red date porridge—none of it seemed like something that would impress her. I didn’t know why she said that.

Xie Huaishuang tilted his head. “Physician Ye is here?”

I tapped twice on his hand as Ye Jingwei pulled over a chair in the yard and sat down. “The trip here was exhausting. I need to rest for fifteen minutes—is that cherry shortbread? Bring me two pieces.”

I finally understood why the City Lord treated her eccentric master as a guest of honor. Ye Jingwei took the plate and tea, waved us off, and turned away. “Don’t bother me. Go do what you need to do.”

Xie Huaishuang stood by the doorframe, the shifting light and shadow flickering over him. I asked: “We still have fifteen minutes. Is there anything you want to do?”

He thought for a moment, his eyes blinking slowly. “Nothing.”

Last night, he had actually stayed up quite late, meticulously touching every plant in the courtyard and asking about them. After returning to the room, he spent ages studying the old weapons I had brought out for him.

Whether I want to admit it or not, I realized once again that he is truly a martial arts prodigy. Even if he can’t see clearly, within the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, he can figure out exactly how to use a weapon to its maximum potential.

I sat beside him, and when he finally set my sword down, I asked: “Still not sleeping?”

Xie Huaishuang’s fingers paused. He lifted his gaze toward me, pursing his lips. “Do you want to sleep?”

“I’m fine. I’ll sleep after you do.”

As a result, Xie Huaishuang didn’t say another word, and we sat facing each other in silence until the second watch, right until his eyelids started drooping and fighting to stay open.

Now, he was doing it again, standing there silently across from me. I pulled him a bit further into the sunlight and asked: “What is it, really? Are you still nervous?”

Xie Huaishuang shook his head and let out a light smile. “It’s nothing—stand a bit closer.”

He was standing on the top step outside the house. I took a step forward so we were eye-level. He reached out, his fingertips once again touching the edge of my brow. The sunlight flowed down the back of his hand, making it look like translucent white jade.

I knew what he wanted to do, so I lowered my head slightly. Those two deep green pools gazed at me steadily as his fingertips slowly “read” my face.

Just as his fingertips reached the corner of my mouth, Ye Jingwei set down her plate and tapped on the chair. I only then realized how short fifteen minutes was. I gripped his wrist; Xie Huaishuang took the hint, curled his fingers, and withdrew his hand.

“You won’t feel anything,” I told him. “Just a nap. When you wake up, it’ll all be better, and you’ll be able to hold a sword again.”

Xie Huaishuang nodded, blinked quickly, and hopped down the steps.

I was assigned by Ye Jingwei to watch the medicine stove. The bitter, clean scent filled the air as the pot bubbled. Afraid of making a mistake, I didn’t dare distract myself, only allowing myself to steal occasional glances toward the room across the courtyard.

The yard was filled with spring light and swaying flower shadows. I couldn’t see what was happening inside the room. Even though Ye Jingwei said he wouldn’t suffer much, my heart was still racing with uncertainty.

When the sun had shifted slightly, I heard the door across the way open. Ye Jingwei sauntered over, glanced at the stove, and tilted her chin. “I’ll watch this. You go.”

“It’s finished?”

“I’ve placed the needles. He’s still slightly awake.” Ye Jingwei jerked her head toward the room. “Are you going or not? If not, let him be… Honestly, you people!”

I was already halfway across the yard. I vaguely heard her shouting behind me, but I didn’t care what she was calling me as I held my breath and pushed open the door.

Through the screen, I saw a faint figure behind the bed curtains. I don’t know how he sensed me entering, but he tilted his head slightly toward me.

“You’re here?”

His voice was low and muddled, like a sleep-talker. I knelt by the bed and lifted the curtain slightly. He was half-reclined, covered in silver needles of various sizes. I didn’t dare move him, so I just carefully tapped twice on the back of his hand.

Xie Huaishuang’s eyes were half-closed. Now he opened them a crack. In the dim light of the bed, his features looked softer than usual—his eyes and brows like a painting of mist over water.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt.”

Somehow, he knew what I wanted to ask. Before I could say a word, he spoke in a low voice, his fingertips moving slightly to brush against my palm.

Just looking at him and being touched by him made my chest feel like it was filled with chaotic willow catkins again. Yet I didn’t dare do a thing, only taking deep breath after deep breath.

The door creaked open. Ye Jingwei walked in with the medicine and handed it to me. “Feed him.”

It was another incredibly bitter brew. Xie Huaishuang swallowed it obediently, then mouthed to me: So bitter.

I had specifically bought sugar flakes yesterday. They didn’t require much chewing; a thin slice melted as soon as it touched the tongue. Ye Jingwei glanced at them, gave a “heh-heh” laugh, but said nothing.

I wiped a trace of medicine from the corner of his mouth. Through the fine silk of the cloth, I felt his lips moving. I leaned closer to listen.

“It will be a long time before I see you again,” his voice grew lighter and lighter. “When I wake up… will I be able to find you?”

My hand suddenly froze.

So that was why he was restless all morning. He wasn’t nervous; he was just like me, feeling that half a month was a very, very long time.

I still don’t understand why I feel this way. So why does he feel the same?

The emerald pools flickered and then hid beneath his long lashes. I felt instinctively that this question was very important. I wanted to ask him urgently, pressing the back of his hand once, then again. There was no reaction.

“Enough, stop bothering him. He’s asleep,” Ye Jingwei said from behind me. “Stand aside. I need to remove the needles.”

He didn’t say it last night, he didn’t say it this morning, but he chose to say it right then. Perhaps he did it on purpose so I would spend the next half-month tossing and turning, overthinking every possibility.

I wanted to call him detestable, but looking at him, I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word.

I stood by as Ye Jingwei extracted the needles one by one. My heart skipped a beat with every one she pulled.

“What’s with that face?” Ye Jingwei turned and frowned. “Can you have a little faith in my skill? I’ve told you a thousand times, when a needle enters through a pore, it doesn’t hurt! Do you want me to stick a few in you to prove it?”

That sounded logical to me, so I held out my hand. Ye Jingwei looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost and backed away.

“You… just act like I didn’t say anything.”

…

Half a month is fifteen days, 360 hours, or 1,440 quarter-hours.

I checked on Xie Huaishuang again to ensure there was no movement, then sat on the porch steps outside. As the night began to rise, I shook a jar of strange-smelling black pills in my hand and did the math in my head.

Ye Jingwei had left these for me. I had asked: “What are these?”

“Take one if you get sleepy in the middle of the night. It’ll keep you awake for half the night,” she had chuckled. “What use is sleep to someone so young? I’m worried you won’t finish my iron puppets—two taels of silver, put it on your tab.”

“…”

“I’m off,” she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Three more patients waiting for me.”

“Are you not charging them either?”

“Two of them are pro bono,” she turned around. “One is a tax official for the Temple. He’s loaded, and I heard he just landed some lucrative new assignment. I’m going to squeeze him for everything I can.”

I suspect if she knew Xie Huaishuang’s true identity, she’d squeeze him for triple the amount. After all, the idea that a Priest of the Temple has no worldly possessions is something nobody would believe.

He didn’t even bring his own sword. I thought about it over and over; I had to find a way to get it back for him.

I know that sword. The scabbard is pure white like frost-covered snow, the blade silver and slender—clearly the weapon he was meant to wield. He hasn’t mentioned it once these past few days, but sometimes I catch him staring blankly at Cloud-Cutter, secretly touching his old sword-tassel before putting it away.

He must miss his sword.

The Temple has been eerily quiet lately, and it’s been a month since the City Lord last gave me a mission. I wonder where the fake Priest they used to replace him is now. What is the Temple thinking? Do they really believe someone can just replace Xie Huaishuang?

…Xie Huaishuang again. I suddenly realized that it hasn’t even been two hours, and my head is already full of Xie Huaishuang, Xie Huaishuang, and Xie Huaishuang.

Don’t think about him.

I turned back to look into the room. It was peaceful under the dim candlelight. I turned my head back.

The moon had risen, a distant crescent hooking onto a far-off roof. The stars flickered in the spring night.

Xie Huaishuang said that when he couldn’t sleep, he would count the stars. When he was counting stars in the Temple, did he ever think of me for even a second? Perhaps at those same moments, I was on a rooftop in Iron Cloud City, looking at the Milky Way and replaying his moves in my mind.

…Wait. Why am I thinking about Xie Huaishuang again?

When I see flowers, it’s Xie Huaishuang. When I see sugar, it’s Xie Huaishuang. When I see the stars, it’s still Xie Huaishuang. I simply closed my eyes, yet the emerald spring water still rippled against the darkness.

I’m truly at my wit’s end.