The house had fallen into a silence so deep it felt alive. Only the faint crackle of the lantern and the shallow rasp of Mingzhu's breath broke the stillness.
I knelt beside him, wringing the blood from the cloth into the basin. The water, once clear, had turned dark red threads curling through it like ink unraveling in glass. My hands stung from scrubbing, but I couldn't stop. If I stopped, I'd have to face the fear pressing against my chest.
Mingzhu lay motionless on the low couch, his skin unnaturally pale, the proud line of his jaw slackened. He looked less like the untouchable dragon he claimed to be, and more like a man caught between worlds.
"Don't die," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could hold them back. "You're too stubborn for that."
Dòu Dòu sat cross-legged near the doorway, arms wrapped around his knees. For once, his grin was gone. His eyes followed me, heavy with something I hadn't seen in him before unease. "He'll live," he said, though his voice lacked its usual mischief. "Dragons don't fall so easily."
I glanced at him, searching his face. "Then why does it feel like he already has?"
Dòu Dòu didn't answer. He only looked away, the shadows swallowing half his expression.
I dipped the cloth again, cooled it against Mingzhu's forehead, watching for the slightest sign...an intake of breath, a twitch of his brow. Nothing came.
The hours stretched. My eyelids burned, my back ached from leaning over him, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. Outside, the river's current whispered against the stones, as if mocking me.
Somewhere deep inside, I knew this night was testing me. Testing whether I would run, or stay.
And I stayed.
"Why do you care so much?"
The question dropped into the silence like a stone into still water. Dòu Dòu's voice was softer than I'd ever heard it, stripped of its playful lilt.
I froze, the damp cloth clutched in my hands. "What do you mean?"
He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms loosely across his chest. In the half-light, his eyes gleamed...ancient, dragon eyes that saw more than they ever admitted. "He wouldn't do the same for you. Not like this."
Anger flared, quick and sharp. "That's not the point."
"Then what is?" His tone wasn't mocking, but searching. "You're mortal, Lianyin. You could leave. Walk away. Live your small, fleeting life and never drown in this river again."
I turned toward Mingzhu, his chest rising faintly, stubbornly. My throat tightened. "Because I can't walk away. Not when he's like this. Not when…" The words tangled, caught between anger and something else I didn't dare name.
Dòu Dòu studied me for a long moment, then gave a crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Careful. Rivers have a way of pulling people under when they stop fighting the current."
I met his gaze, unwilling to let him see the tremor in my hands. "Maybe I'm not fighting it anymore."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The lantern sputtered, casting long shadows across Mingzhu's still form.
Finally, Dòu Dòu sighed, resting his head back against the wall. "You're stranger than I thought, little mortal. Stranger, and braver."
I turned back to the bandages, forcing my hands steady. His words lingered, heavier than the silence.
Time blurred into fragments of light and shadow. The lantern burned low, then was lit again. Morning seeped through the shutters, pale and cold, only to fade once more into night.
Through it all, I stayed.
I washed the blood away, changed the bandages, cooled his fever with damp cloths. His breathing never ceased, but it wavered sometimes shallow, sometimes steady, always enough to keep hope alive.
Dòu Dòu drifted in and out of the room, bringing food I barely touched, muttering about how dragons healed slower when their pride was heavier than their wounds. I answered him little. My world had shrunk to the rise and fall of Mingzhu's chest, to the heat beneath my hands as I pressed another cloth to his brow.
On the second night, exhaustion claimed me. My head sank onto the edge of the couch, my fingers still tangled in the folds of the bandage.
A sound stirred me awake a low, fractured exhale.
I lifted my head sharply. Mingzhu's hand twitched against the blanket, his lips parting as if to speak. His eyes remained closed, but his brows drew together, a flicker of life breaking through the still mask he'd worn for days.
"Mingzhu?" My voice trembled, the single word a prayer.
His throat worked, dry and unsteady. No words came, only a rasp that scraped the silence raw. But it was enough.
My heart pounded so fiercely I thought it might shatter. He was still fighting.
Behind me, Dòu Dòu leaned in from the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Told you," he whispered. "Dragons don't fall that easily."
I ignored him. My eyes stayed on Mingzhu, on the stubborn spark that refused to die.
And for the first time since that night, I let myself breathe.
His lashes fluttered, faint as a ripple on still water. Then, with visible effort, his eyes cracked open narrow slits of storm-dark gray.
I leaned closer, almost afraid to breathe. "Mingzhu?"
For a moment, he seemed lost between dreams and waking. His gaze drifted past me, unfocused, as though he were looking through me rather than at me. Then his lips parted, dry and cracked, and the words that scraped out were barely more than a breath.
"You… never leave, do you?"
Relief surged through me so swiftly it burned. "Of course I didn't! Someone had to keep you alive."
A weak huff of air something between a laugh and a scoff escaped him. "Meddlesome… mortal."
I bit back the anger rising in my chest. "Is that all you have to say? I've barely slept for days, and you..." My voice broke. "You could have died."