Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

A chill wind whipped up gravel, stained the area in front of the Mi Cang Mountain formation in a hazy yellow. Yan Yan, clad in silver-scale armor and seated upright on his auburn horse, swept his hawk-like gaze across Zhang Lu's formation. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. "Zhang Lu! Now that Ma Chao has surrendered and Sun Ce has been executed, you're still fighting like a trapped beast. Why don't you surrender immediately?"

Zhang Lu's knuckles turned white as he gripped his whip. Just as he was about to retort, Yan Yan whipped out his long sword from his waist, its flash slicing through the air. "Since you won't surrender, who dares to fight me?" As soon as he finished speaking, a hushed silence fell across the battlefield. Zhang Lu glanced to his side. Yang Ang's hand trembled slightly as he gripped his spear, and Yang Ren's grip on his sword rattled through his teeth, yet no one dared to move forward.

"Hahaha!" Yan Yan's laughter shook the army flags. "Hanzhong is empty! Huang Quan and Wu Yi, listen!" With a command, two great generals rode out from behind him, their swords and spears flashing with a cold gleam, charging directly into Zhang Lu's formation. Yang Ang and Yang Ren exchanged a glance, then steeled themselves and charged forward. Amid the clanging of weapons, Huang Quan's broadsword cleaved a half-foot-long gash in Yang Ang's spear shaft, while Wu Yi's spear forced Yang Ren back repeatedly.

Zhang Lu stared at the crumbling defenses, a vein bulging in his forehead. He yanked open his cloak, revealing the runes of the Heavenly Master Dao on his inner armor, and shouted, "Defend the gates! Unleash the rolling logs and rocks!" Shouts echoed from the towers, and heavy rocks rained down, but they were no match for the Yizhou army's overwhelming attack. Yan Yan, standing behind the battle formation, sneered and waved his flag, issuing another command: "Set up the ladders! We must take Micang Mountain today!"

The dusk was blood-red, tinting the walls of Micang Mountain a dark crimson. Yang Ang, shot in the left shoulder, his robe stained with blood, still held on to his spear with all his might. Yang Ren's sword was riddled with holes, his knuckles bruised and bleeding. The two men struggled to push the Yizhou army back to the foot of the mountain. Hearing the distant blast of the enemy's rallying horns, their legs gave way, nearly causing them to fall from their horses.

"Send an order!" Zhang Lu tore off his blood-stained cloak and shouted, startling the crows from the city walls. "Dispatch 3,000 elite soldiers from the Nanzheng Camp to quickly support the front line!" He looked at the flickering lights in Yan Yan's tent in the distance, his nails digging deep into his palms. "Tell Yang Bai and Yang Chou again, bring kerosene and sulfur to ambush in the pine forest on the west side. If the enemy attacks at night..." Before he finished speaking, a scout covered in blood dismounted: "Report! The Yizhou army has set up an ambush on all sides at the foot of the mountain, and it seems they want to trap our army!"

Zhang Lu turned abruptly, his dark Taoist robe sweeping off the military manuals on his desk. The faint sound of drums pounded in the distance, like a death warrant, hammering at everyone's eardrums. He grabbed the tiger talisman on the desk and threw it at his deputy general: "Send it immediately to Yangping Pass, and dispatch Zhang Wei with 5,000 cavalry for reinforcement."

War drums thundered across Micang Mountain, but within Hua Tuo's apothecary, silence reigned, save for the gurgling of the medicine cauldron. The commanders and guards, clad in heavy armor, stood in the corridor, their swords gleaming coldly at their waists. They could only stare in amazement as Zhang Fubao dashed back and forth with the medicine jar in hand. Though they could shoot arrows through the air at a hundred paces, slay generals and seize flags, they were helpless against the bubbling medicinal fluids within the cauldron.

"Mr. Hua, is it really possible to boil this 'Nine-Aperture Linglongzhi' together with the thousand-year-old Polygonum multiflorum?" Zhang Fubao's fingers turned slightly white as he gripped the brocade box. The Ganoderma lucidum in the box, radiating a faint fluorescent light, was the most precious treasure in the Zhang family's secret vault, even rarer than ginseng and Ganoderma lucidum. Hua Tuo twirled his white beard and leaned in to examine it. A glimmer of light flashed in his cloudy eyes: "This ganoderma grows in the ice cracks at the top of Kunlun Mountain. It takes a thousand years to develop nine orifices. If it is combined with Polygonum multiflorum..." He suddenly slammed the medicine case, "Wonderful! Such a tonic effect may even awaken a chronic illness!"

The aroma of medicine mixed with steaming white mist filled the entire room. When the amber-colored medicine was fed to the young man for the third time, Zhen Mi stayed by the bedside, having hardly slept all night. The moment the morning light pierced the window paper, she suddenly cried out in surprise - the two piercing white hairs on the young man's temples faded at a speed visible to the naked eye, turning into a warm black, and a faint trace of blood color appeared on his pale face. Hua Tuo trembled as he took the young man's pulse, and his old voice was filled with disbelief: "Strange! Strange! This medicine... actually rebuilds the foundation of qi and blood!"

The midday sun slanted into the side room, casting dappled shadows on the medicine cauldron. Zhen Mi's hand, holding the medicine bowl, suddenly trembled violently, and the amber liquid splattered over the edge. The young man on the sickbed's Adam's apple rolled slightly, and his once bloodless fingertips curled gently like dead leaves in the breeze.

"He moved!" He moved! The "medicine bowl" fell to the ground with a clang. Zhang Fubao rushed to the bed upon hearing this, almost squeezing the young man's wrist until it bled. Hua Tuo stumbled and squeezed through the crowd. His skinny fingers touched his pulse, and his cloudy eyes suddenly lit up: "The pulse is surging like a spring! Quick! Boil another dose of medicine!"

The aroma of medicine, wrapped in steaming white mist, filled the room. Zhen Mi knelt beside the couch, her fingertips trembling slightly as she held the medicine bowl. After days of recuperation, Ma Chao's breathing had become longer and deeper. She took a sip of the medicine, and as she leaned forward, the broken jade hairpins in her hair swayed gently with her movements, slowly transferring the warm medicine into his mouth. As her swallowing became more powerful, her nerves, which had been tense for many days, finally relaxed a little, and a smile of relief curled at the corner of her lips.

"Hmm!" A muffled groan erupted from her throat, and a bony hand suddenly thrust forward, gripping her wrist like an iron clamp. Zhen Mi, caught off guard, fell onto the couch, spilling the medicine bowl onto the mattress. The amber liquid trickled down Ma Chao's pale hand. Those eyes, once tightly shut, slowly opened, the lingering mist of nightmare still lingering within their dark pupils, firmly fixed on her panicked face.

Zhen Mi's wrist was sore from being gripped, and her heart was pounding. Ma Chao's voice was hoarse, and he struggled to utter the words "Who are you?", his eyes full of vigilance and confusion.

Zhen Mi looked at him, her eyes instantly reddening, her lips trembling slightly, and it took her a long time to find her voice. She whispered softly, "I'm Zhen Mi. Zhang Fubao and I saved you. Don't you remember?" The wind outside the medicine house gently rustled the window lattice, and the aroma of medicine inside became even stronger. Zhen Mi tried to free her wrist, but she was afraid of hurting him. She could only look at Ma Chao helplessly, tears welling in her eyes.

"You were seriously injured and unconscious. Thanks to Mr. Hua's medical skills and precious herbs, you were able to save your life." Zhen Mi tried to calm herself and explained carefully, her eyes fixed on Ma Chao, afraid that he would fall into a coma again. She hoped that the worry, fear, and meticulous care she had taken over the past few days would help Ma Chao remember something, but the Ma Chao before her seemed like a different person, so unfamiliar that she felt uneasy.

Zhang Fubao's eyebrows arched, her eyes wide as she watched the young man clutching Zhen Mi's hand. She was furious. She placed her hands on her hips, stamped her feet, and said coquettishly, "You're such a scoundrel! Sister Mi has been running around for you, running around for days and nights without a wink. When you were seriously injured and couldn't eat or take medicine, it was Sister Mi who fed you mouth-to-mouth. Now that you've just woken up, how can you be so ruthless!"

As she spoke, Zhang Fubao walked quickly to the front of the couch and forcibly pried the young man's hand that was holding Zhen Mi's hand, muttering, "Let go quickly, Sister Mi's hand is about to be hurt by you. But you don't recognize me when you wake up, you have no conscience!" While prying her hand, she looked at Zhen Mi with heartache, her eyes red, as if she was the one who was wronged.

Zhen Mi shook her head slightly, gently broke free from the young man's hand, and said softly: "Fu Bao, don't blame him. Maybe he just woke up and is not conscious yet." But Zhang Fu Bao would not give up. He still glared at the young man angrily and said: "Even if he is not conscious, you can't treat Sister Mi like this!" The atmosphere in the room was tense, with only the smell of medicine filling the air, as if telling of the hardships Zhen Mi had experienced these days.

The young man's Adam's apple rolled, his knuckles white as he slowly loosened his grip. He barely pulled himself up and bowed, "I'm Ma Chao of Xiliang. Thank you, young lady, for saving my life." Before he finished speaking, the room suddenly fell into a dead silence. Zhang Fubao's fingertips still hovered in mid-air, and Zhen Mi's handkerchief, still in her grasp, trembled slightly. The two stared at each other, their eyes wide with shock and bewilderment. After all, they each had a different connection to this so-called Ma Chao.

"Your name is Ma Chao?" Zhang Fubao's voice suddenly trembled. She stared at the young man on the couch, her ears resounding with the rumor that "Ma Chao was murdered by the emperor in Chang'an." Although she had never met this man, she knew him all too well—he was the beloved son of Uncle Ma and Aunt Ma, who guarded Xiliang. He was also the old friend that Sister Bai missed with tears, and the name that Sister Wenji would repeatedly mention as she stroked old letters, her eyes reddening.

"You're actually Ma Chao!" Zhen Mi's fingertips gripped the edge of the medicine cabinet, the sandalwood grain practically digging into her palm. She stumbled forward half a step, her messy hair cascading down her pale face. Her voice was thick with disbelief. "You're not dead! Oh my God! Xiliang is now locked in a fierce battle with Chang'an to avenge you!"

Before he could finish his words, Ma Chao suddenly thrust himself up from the couch, veins bulging in his neck. "What?!" A hoarse roar ripped through the silence. He staggered, trying to get out of bed, but his legs felt heavy as lead. The world spun around, and Ma Chao's vision went black, and he fell straight down. Zhang Fubao and Zhen Mi cried out in alarm, rushing forward, one holding his shaky shoulders, the other supporting his limp lower back.

There were hurried footsteps outside, and a dozen burly men burst open the door. The cold gleam of unsheathed swords instantly filled the room. Guards formed a semi-circle around the three men in front of the couch, their blades gleaming coldly as they pointed directly at Ma Chao. Zhang Fubao trembled with rage, clutching the Heavenly Master's banner at his waist and shouting, "All of you, retreat! Who told you to trespass?!"

The chief guard did not retreat even a step, his eyes icy cold beneath his iron mask: "The Heavenly Master has ordered that this man's behavior is suspicious. When he wakes up, he must be apprehended immediately." He raised his hand to signal everyone to stay alert, his blade not deviating at all.

"Can't you see he's so weak he can't even stand up?!" Zhang Fubao pointed at Ma Chao's sickly body, his eyes red. "How could he be in any danger?! Can't you all just stay outside? Why do you have to come in and cause trouble?"

As the clashing of armor faded away, Zhang Fubao glared at Ma Chao with her hands on her hips, her almond-shaped eyes wide. "You've been comatose for months now. You're so weak you'll fall over if the wind blows. You can't even stand steadily. What do you want to do?" She reached out and poked Ma Chao's limp shoulder. "The most urgent thing is to strengthen your body. Otherwise, how can you be worthy of Sister Mi, who has been serving you and taking care of you day and night? How can you be worthy of Mr. Hua's prescriptions? How can you be worthy of those precious medicinal herbs in my Zhang family!"

Zhen Mi's fingertips gently stroked Ma Chao's trembling back, her eyes tender enough to bring tears to her eyes. She half-knelt beside the couch and tucked the cushion back behind his waist. "Yes, get some rest first. Things in Xiliang can't be rushed. You've been through these days in a coma, so a moment of this can't hurt." Her voice was extremely soft, the scent of jasmine from her hair, mixed with the scent of medicine, lingering on Ma Chao's nose. "When you recover, we'll... make further plans."