The Unexpected Guest and the Bounds of Tradition
The tranquil morning mist was torn asunder by the heavy, frantic rhythm of footsteps. Zhao Long half-ran, half-strided along the winding dirt path, his arms cradling the slender frame of the mysterious woman against his chest. His face, usually a mask of stoic calm, was now slick with sweat and etched with an anxiety he had never known before.
"Grandfather! Grandfather! Are you inside?!" Zhao Long's voice cracked with urgency before he even crossed the threshold of the bamboo hut.
Grandfather Zhao, who had been busy sorting herbs on sun-drying trays, jumped in surprise, scattering the dried leaves across the floor. The old man looked up at his grandson in shock. "What is it, Long'er?! You're shouting loud enough to wake the whole forest... and who—who are you carrying?!"
"I found her wounded in the forest, Grandfather!" Zhao Long didn't wait. He carried Lin Ying into the small main hall and laid her onto a bamboo cot draped in woven cloth, moving with the utmost gentleness.
Grandfather Zhao hurried to his side. The moment the old man's eyes fell upon the woman, his confusion turned into sheer dread. "Mercy... what happened to her? An arrow in her arm! And the blood... it's so dark. This is a frost-venom arrow, without a doubt!"
"I found her surrounded by the Black Tiger Bandits," Zhao Long explained, his voice trembling slightly as he knelt to inspect the wound. "She fought with everything she had, but eventually, she fell. I saw the opening and stepped in to bring her here."
Grandfather Zhao hesitated, his wrinkled face clouded with visible conflict. "The Black Tiger Bandits... Long'er, you realize what this means? Bringing a stranger who is at odds with bandits—and a martial artist at that—into our home... it will bring trouble to our door. And then there is her reputation to consider..."
"Grandfather!" Zhao Long interrupted, his eyes burning with determination. "Forget reputation and bandits for a moment! She is dying. Her breath is fading with every passing second. If we stay here talking, she won't make it. Do you know how to draw out the poison, or should I run for the village physician right now?!"
Grandfather Zhao exhaled a long sigh, nodding as if snapping back to his senses. "You're right, boy. I was worrying over trifles. Go! Run to the edge of the village. Fetch Physician Chen as fast as your legs can carry you. Tell him it's a frost-venom injury. I'll prepare hot water and clean bandages to stabilize her. Move!"
"I'm going!" Zhao Long saluted and vanished in a blur, racing through the morning mist toward the heart of the village. He left Grandfather Zhao staring at Lin Ying's unconscious form with eyes full of questions and concern for the storm that was surely brewing.
The Golden Hour of Survival
Before long, the heavy thud of Zhao Long's footsteps returned, accompanied by Physician Chen, a middle-aged man with a kind demeanor who arrived gasping for air, clutching his medicine bag.
Upon seeing Lin Ying's sickly greenish-black wound, he immediately dropped his bag and began preparing his tools.
"Long'er! Fetch clean water and a few strips of white cloth... Master Zhao, hold the lamp closer! I need to see how deep the barbs have sunk!" Physician Chen commanded with absolute authority.
The atmosphere in the hut was thick with tension. The physician used silver tongs dipped in medicinal spirits to cleanse the swollen area.
Though unconscious, Lin Ying's brow furrowed, her body twitching as the frost-venom bit deep into her bone.
"The arrowhead is barbed... if I pull it straight out, it will tear the flesh to ribbons," the physician hissed, heating a small lancet over a flame until it glowed a lethal red. "Long'er! Get over here! Hold her shoulders steady.
She must not move, or the wound will be ruined and she won't survive the pain!"
Zhao Long stepped to the side of the cot. His large, calloused hands pressed down on her delicate shoulders—carefully, but with a firm, immovable grip. He saw her once-proud face now as pale as parchment, beads of sweat glistening at her hairline. Her breath, brushing against his wrist, was terrifyingly faint.
Squelch. The lancet sliced into the skin. Lin Ying jolted, a guttural groan of agony escaping her throat. Zhao Long instinctively tightened his grip, his gaze flickering with worry as dark, clotted blood surged out with the pull of the iron tongs. Physician Chen moved with practiced calm until the arrowhead finally fell with a sharp clink into a wooden tray.
"It's out!" The physician wiped his brow and quickly applied a powder to stem the bleeding and neutralize the remaining toxins. "Long'er, I've managed the wound, but she needs to rest for at least two or three days for the poison in her blood to dissipate."
After washing his hands, Physician Chen looked at Zhao Long and the Grandfather with a serious expression.
"I'm not worried about the fee—Long'er can help me split wood in the back forest to settle that. What I am worried about is... how will this woman stay in your hut? Two bachelors tending to her, changing her clothes, and washing her... it is unseemly. The village gossips will tear her reputation to shreds."
Grandfather Zhao nodded solemnly. "I agree. We can only watch over her from a distance... Long'er, go and find Auntie Liu from the neighboring house. Tell her I'm requesting her help to care for the patient. Let her handle the washing and the changing of clothes so that we remain within the bounds of propriety."
Zhao Long looked at Lin Ying, whose arm was now neatly bandaged. He felt a wave of relief that she was out of danger, but a new weight of social complication settled on him.
"I understand, Grandfather. I'll go find Auntie Liu immediately... Physician Chen, thank you for saving her life."
"Go on then," Physician Chen laughed softly, packing his tools. "Before the news of the 'handsome lad carrying a beauty home' spreads to every wagging tongue in the village."
Instincts and a Hidden Name
The morning sun filtered through the bamboo slats, casting light upon Lin Ying's closed eyelids. She felt a heavy ache in her left arm and a warmth flowing through her veins as her circulation returned to normal. Instantly, her assassin instincts triggered an automatic response.
Snap!
Lin Ying's eyes flew open. Her right hand immediately sought the hidden dagger beneath her sleeve, only to find emptiness and a body so weakened it could barely move.
"Oh! You're awake, dear! Don't move just yet, your wound hasn't closed properly!" A shrill but kind voice chirped from beside the bed.
Lin Ying turned her head toward the sound. She saw a plump, middle-aged woman in clean hemp robes holding a damp cloth. This was Auntie Liu, the widow from next door who had been tasked with her care.
"Where... am I?" Lin Ying asked, her voice a raspy whisper. Her wary eyes scanned the small hall, which smelled of dried herbs and woodsmoke.
"Grandfather Zhao's hut, at the edge of the Cloud-Mist Village," Auntie Liu replied, wringing out the cloth. "His grandson, Long'er, carried you through the bandits and back here. You've been out for a whole day! If it weren't for Physician Chen and this family, you'd be meeting the Yama King by now."
At that moment, the steady, rhythmic thud-thud of an axe echoed from the front yard. Lin Ying looked through the window and saw a tall, powerful young man in rough hemp clothes. His broad back, glistening with sweat under the sun, rippled as he split wood with effortless precision. His movements were simple, yet they held the stability of a mountain.
Before long, Zhao Long set down his axe, wiped his brow, and entered the house. Grandfather Zhao followed behind him, carrying a steaming bowl of medicine. Seeing that their guest was awake, both men looked visibly relieved.
"You've returned to us, My Lady," Zhao Long said in a deep, sincere voice. His eyes held no malice, only an honesty that made Lin Ying feel strangely out of place. "Drink this. Physician Chen insisted this bowl would clear the remaining poison."
Lin Ying took the bowl, her eyes weighing the three people before her. "Thank you for saving my life... I will not forget this debt."
"Debt? Nonsense. When someone in distress reaches our door, we help," Grandfather Zhao said, taking a seat on a wooden stool. "But My Lady... who are you? How did you come to be hunted by those Black Tiger thugs? And do you have a name we might call you?"
Lin Ying went silent for a moment. The secrets she carried meant she could never reveal her true identity. She avoided Zhao Long's keen gaze and answered softly.
"My name is... Ye Nian," she chose her assassin alias. "I am merely a traveler heading across the valley. My caravan was ambushed by bandits, and I was separated in the chaos... I apologize for the trouble I have brought to your home."
Zhao Long looked at the woman who called herself Ye Nian. Though the name sounded strange and her manner was shrouded in mystery, the sorrow in her eyes and the severity of her wounds made him reluctant to pry further.
"Rest easy then, Ye Nian. You are safe here. Our village may be humble, but it is secure," Zhao Long gave her a small, lonesome smile. "Focus on healing. We can worry about the rest later."
Lin Ying—or 'Ye Nian'—watched his back as he returned to his work. The warmth of this hut was beginning to erode her icy mask, bit by bit, without her even realizing it.
The Nameless Man and the Warm Sun
Another day passed, and Ye Nian's condition improved significantly. Though she still couldn't move her left arm freely, the frost-venom had faded enough for her to sit at the wooden table outside the hut. Auntie Liu sat nearby, fussing over her like a long-lost daughter.
"Eat up, Lady Ye Nian. This porridge is filled with blood-nourishing herbs that Master Zhao found specifically for you," Auntie Liu said with a wide grin, sweeping the floor as she spoke.
The atmosphere around the hut was strangely lively. Villagers passing by to the forest or the stream slowed their pace to offer greetings and steal a glance at the newcomer. Some brought wild vegetables as gifts; others offered genuine smiles. It was a sight Lin Ying had never seen in Chang'an, where people always wore masks of deception.
Zhao Long returned from the wood-splitting area, wiped his stained hands, and sat across from her. The afternoon sun, filtered through the leaves, softened his rugged features.
"Is the food to your liking?" he asked simply.
Lin Ying nodded. Using her right hand, she handled her chopsticks with practiced grace. She looked at him with a curiosity she could no longer suppress. "You saved my life and tended to me, yet I still haven't properly learned your family name... Grandfather calls you Long'er. But what is your full name?"
The young man went still. He looked away, toward the distant treetops. "I don't have a surname... Grandfather raised me in these mountains. I am just an orphan with no lineage." He turned back to meet her eyes and offered a faint smile. "You can call me Zhao Long like the others, or just Ah Long. I care little for formal titles."
"Ah Long..." Lin Ying repeated softly, setting her chopsticks down. Her heart wavered. This man, who possessed such raw power and a crushing presence, was merely a nameless youth living a simple life. "Have you lived here all your life?"
"I live with the forest, and I live with the mountains. My life is but one axe and one grandfather," Zhao Long replied, waving at a villager in the distance. "For me, happiness isn't about titles or rank. It's about seeing the smoke rise from the huts at evening... and seeing the person I saved... able to smile again."
His blunt, honest words struck a chord deep within her. She knew the truth—that he was the noble heir of the Great Zhao Clan. Yet, she found herself liking this woodsman, "Ah Long," far more than any high-born lord. A peaceful silence settled over them, broken only by the song of forest birds. It was a brief moment that Lin Ying wished she could freeze forever... before everything changed in two days' time.