Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

There was a sound of hurried footsteps outside the door, mixed with heavy breathing. Hua Tuo, his white hair disheveled and his robe dusty, trotted into the room. He didn't bother wiping the sweat from his forehead. He walked straight to the bed, his eyes anxiously scanning Ma Chao's face, and then stretched out his bony fingers to feel his pulse.

Zhen Mi half-knelt beside the couch, her palms still warm from having helped Ma Chao up. Everyone's eyes were fixed on Hua Tuo's slightly furrowed brows and the gentle twirling of his fingertips. Only the boiling medicine in the cauldron continued to gurgle, and white mist curled upwards.

"Although the pulse is still weak, there are signs of life." Hua Tuo's aged voice broke the silence, a relieved smile glittering in his cloudy eyes. He turned to look at Zhen Mi and Zhang Fubao, his gaze filled with admiration. "Thanks to Miss Zhang's secret vault of Nine-Aperture Linglongzhi, this miraculous medicine has such a resuscitation effect." He then turned to look at Ma Chao, twirling his beard and sighing softly, "It's no wonder Miss Zhen Mi has taken such meticulous care of me these days, staying by my bedside day and night, not even daring to blink."

Ma Chao struggled to stand and salute, but was too weak to fall back onto the cushions. His pale lips trembled slightly, and his voice was hoarse but full of sincerity: "Thank you, Mr. Hua, for your miraculous healing and life-saving grace. Ma Chao will never forget it." He looked at Zhen Mi and Zhang Fubao, a trace of guilt in his eyes. "I also want to thank you two ladies for your hard work and efforts on my behalf."

Zhang Fubao crossed her arms across her chest. Although she was still angry, a hint of pride unconsciously rose at the corners of her lips: "You still have a conscience, Sister Mi. I have been serving you soup and feeding you medicine, and I can't even sleep well..." She kept talking, but Zhen Mi blushed and gently pulled her sleeve, signaling her not to say anything more.

Hua Tuo raised his hand to interrupt Zhang Fubao and looked at Ma Chao sternly. "You've just woken up, and your vitality is greatly damaged. You must not get too excited." He pointed at Ma Chao's face, which was slightly flushed with excitement. "If you get angry again, it will harm your body, and the medicine you used will be wasted." After that, he pulled a scroll of prescription from his sleeve and handed it to Zhen Mi. "Follow this recipe and boil it for another seven days. Remember to simmer it slowly over a low heat. Don't be impatient."

Hua Tuo raised his hand and gently waved, signaling silence. His aged face was filled with solemnity. "The patient has just woken up, and we must not overexert ourselves. You should all withdraw for now." He glanced at the guards in the room, who were tense and tense, and then at Zhen Mi and Zhang Fubao, who looked concerned. "For now, we should focus on nursing him. Don't disturb his peace."

Zhen Mi looked at the guards standing outside the room, swords drawn, feeling a surge of worry. She bit her lip and said softly, "Generals, Master Ma has just woken up and should not be disturbed. Please step outside for now so he can rest and recuperate."

The chief guard saluted with his fists clasped, his expression firm: "I hope Miss Zhen will not blame me. The Heavenly Master has ordered that you must stay here. We will definitely not make a sound to disturb you, but we dare not leave without permission." The other guards all had solemn expressions, holding their long swords tightly in their hands, standing still like statues.

Zhang Fubao put her hands on her hips, her eyes wide open: "You stupid guys! Can't you see that he is so weak? And you are still standing here to scare people!" She was so angry that her face turned red, but she could do nothing.

Seeing that it was getting dark and the afterglow of the setting sun was shining into the house through the window lattice, Zhang Fubao stamped her feet and finally compromised: "Forget it, it's getting late, I'll come again tomorrow. Sister Mi, don't tire yourself out." After that, she left the medicine house, looking back every few steps.

Zhen Mi sighed softly, turned around and looked at Ma Chao on the couch, her eyes gentle: "You should have a good rest, I will go to boil medicine for you." Her voice was soft, with a hint of concern, then she slowly turned around and walked towards the medicine furnace with light steps.

The room gradually fell silent, save for the gurgling of the medicine in the cauldron. Ma Chao gazed at the rooftop, his gaze growing penetrating. The tragic events of the Chang'an Incident flashed through his mind. That event, like a thunderbolt, had completely altered the trajectory of his life. The Western Liang rebels had risen in vengeance for him, the flames of war raged, and countless lives were lost. Was this really what he wanted?

The bizarre dreams he'd had while unconscious, the earnest teachings of his master, and the earnest hopes of Master Dong, all tangled in his mind. Once, he was single-mindedly devoted to his country and the world, filled with passion, wanting only to quell the chaos and save the people. But now, after experiencing life and death, his mindset had quietly shifted. He began to wonder: what was the right path in this chaotic world? Could endless war and slaughter truly bring peace?

During that dark, gloomy period, Ma Chao's consciousness seemed to have fallen into a chaotic abyss. He was clearly awake, but it felt like he was trapped in a nightmare spiderweb. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not break free from the shackles of darkness and open his eyes.

In his mind, past memories and the impact of reality constantly intertwined and collided. The loyalty and patriotism he'd learned since childhood had been a constant tenet throughout his life, unshakable like a towering mountain. He had once believed that as long as he upheld this belief, he could bring peace to the people of the world, assist a wise ruler, and achieve great things.

However, the emperor's actions were like a sledgehammer, hammering down the mountain of faith within him. The dark machinations and cold calculations revealed to him the corruption and ugliness of the court. His once unbreakable faith collapsed in this moment, scattering debris and stinging his heart.

At the same time, in the fog of consciousness, he gradually came to understand Mr. Dong's actions. Though ruthless, Mr. Dong's methods seemed to be driven by a sense of helplessness and perseverance, a means of survival in troubled times and the pursuit of his ideals. He was torn between two opposing ideals: loyalty to the emperor and patriotism, and his understanding of Mr. Dong's actions, like two mutually tugging ropes, constantly tearing his consciousness apart.

Countless times, he questioned himself: what exactly is justice? Is it to uphold the traditional way of loyalty to the emperor, remaining loyal to the end even in the face of a tyrannical and incompetent ruler? Or, like Mr. Dong, to break the old order in his own way, even if the means were less than honorable? These two voices fiercely debated in his mind, neither winning nor losing, sinking him deeper and deeper into the quagmire of consciousness, wavering between the two, unsure of where to go. Each struggle felt like a tearing apart of his soul, excruciating pain, yet unable to find a way out.

Ma Chao's thoughts drifted further and further away, the confusion and bewilderment in his heart like a tangled mess, unable to be cut or sorted out. Outside the window, the night deepened, and only the aroma of medicinal herbs filled the room, accompanying him as he fell into deep thought.

When Zhen Mi returned to the bed with the medicine bowl, Ma Chao was already half-leaning on the cushions. The shattered jade hairpins in her hair swayed gently in the steaming mist, reflecting the warm yellow candlelight like scattered stars. As usual, she scooped up the liquid medicine with a silver spoon, blew gently to cool it, and then placed the edge of the spoon against her wrist to test the temperature. This movement was so natural, as if she had repeated it a thousand times.

"Be careful, it's hot." Zhen Mi's voice brushed against his ears like a spring breeze. As the spoon reached his lips, Ma Chao suddenly remembered the fleeting gentle touch he'd felt while unconscious—those long, interminable darkness where a pair of hands would gently wipe the sweat from his forehead, and a faint scent of jasmine would linger at his nose. The moment the medicine entered his mouth, a hint of sweetness lingered amidst the bitterness. He felt as if he had returned to the depths of his chaotic consciousness, feeling the warmth carefully seeping into every inch of his being.

"Is the temperature comfortable?" Zhen Mi asked softly, noticing his absent-mindedness. As she lowered her gaze, her eyelashes cast a fine shadow beneath her eyes, and the end of her hair brushed the back of his hand. Ma Chao then realized with a start that the tingling sensation he'd felt on his fingertips while unconscious wasn't an illusion; the warmth against his skin was actually even softer than he'd remembered.

He gazed at the woman's focused expression, his throat suddenly tightening. The confusion and struggle that had been nagging at the depths of his consciousness, in the warmth of this bowl of medicine, quietly faded away. Amidst the lingering aroma of the medicine, he suddenly realized that in this chaotic world, beyond the passion of battle, there was also this gentle power that could quietly melt the ice in one's heart.

Ma Chao watched Zhen Mi intently feeding him the medicine. He saw the tips of her ears flushed slightly from leaning in close, and the scent of jasmine in her hair, mixed with the aroma of medicine, lingered in his nose. His throat twitched twice, and he broke the silence with a hoarse voice, "Young lady, you take such good care of me. I truly don't know how to repay you."

Zhen Mi paused for a moment, then raised her eyes, her expression shifting: "Mr. Ma, you are too kind. Saving the dying and healing the wounded is our duty."

"But the young lady..." Ma Chao paused before he finished speaking, his eyes sweeping over the skin on her wrist, which was reddened by the heat from the medicine bowl. He remembered the gentleness he had felt in the hazy perception when he was unconscious, and a strange ripple appeared in his heart. "I haven't asked for your name yet, young lady, and where are you from?"

The moment these words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room suddenly became tense. Zhen Mi's fingertips trembled slightly, and the spoon made a soft sound against the edge of the bowl. Her hair obscured her flushed cheeks as she lowered her eyes. "My last name is Zhen, my given name is Mi, and my ancestral home is Wuji, Zhongshan."

Ma Chao memorized the name, suddenly feeling it was more beautiful than any poem he had ever heard. He was about to ask again when she hurriedly set down her medicine bowl and stood up. "Young Master has just woken up, so it's best not to talk too much. I...I'll go check on the medicine furnace." As she turned, her skirt blew a breeze, causing the candlelight on the table to sway slightly.

Watching her fleeing figure, Ma Chao clutched the blankets tightly beneath him. He swallowed back the words that nearly came out of his mouth: "I wonder if the young lady has promised herself to anyone?"

Ma Chao watched Zhen Mi's retreating figure, his heart awash with mixed emotions. Her shy demeanor and meticulous care warmed his heart. But she hurried away, not even addressing the crucial question of marriage. He was both annoyed at his abruptness and secretly grateful for the opportunity to ask. The thought of this woman, disregarding her reputation for caring for him, sealed his resolve—no matter what, he would never betray her affection.

However, the tenderness that had just emerged was quickly overshadowed by the dark clouds of reality. He looked toward the closed door and faintly heard the clinking of armor from the guards outside. Those seemingly respectful guards were, in reality, invisible shackles that bound him. The sporadic sound of a clapper came from outside the window. The night was as dark as indissoluble ink, and he had no idea where he was.

The flames of war in Xiliang raged in his mind. He could almost see smoke rising from his homeland, hear the wails of the people, and the neighing of war horses. His people had risen up in arms to avenge him, how many lives had been lost? And he was trapped here, his martial arts skills in vain, unable to join the battle. Even more unsettling was the question of who these guards outside the gates obeyed. Were they friend or foe? If he fell into the hands of someone with ulterior motives, not only would his own life be in danger, but the entire Xiliang army could also be imperiled.

Ma Chao clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the strain. He desperately wanted to understand the outside world, to break free from the numerous obstacles, but his physical weakness was like an iron chain, firmly imprisoning him in this small space. Thinking of this, he sighed deeply and turned to look at the medicine bowl left by Zhen Mi. The aroma of the medicine was still lingering, but he could not detect any warmth, only worry and anxiety.