Taking just two steps forward, she saw Duan Yunhe lying on the bed. Miss Duan must have been utterly exhausted; she had fallen asleep with the bed curtains still drawn. Presumably, the homeowner had slipped back into her room under cover of night and hadn’t even locked the courtyard gate—likely intending to retrieve something. But instead, she found such a stunning beauty sleeping in her own bed, which must have come as quite a shock. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have stood there in such a daze, making it all too easy for Qiu Huan to knock her unconscious.

Qiu Huan herself was feeling much better now; the pain wasn’t nearly as severe as before. When the pain had been at its worst, she’d been mainly stunned that Duan Yunhe would actually take an arrow meant for her. Now that she had the energy to think things through more carefully, besides being puzzled, she couldn’t help but feel deeply moved. Although Qiu Huan hated owing anyone a debt most of all, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t appreciate someone’s kindness—it was just that she wasn’t sure how to repay it.

She sat down by the bedside and, for the first time, took a really close look at Duan Yunhe’s features. Her eyes were closed, so she couldn’t see them, but her nose was round and dainty, her lips were rosy and plump, her skin was as white as snow and perfectly translucent, and her breathing was steady and deep… Qiu Huan’s heart skipped a beat.

Normally, people with little martial skill breathe unevenly during the day, only settling into a steady rhythm when they fall asleep. And except for those who sleep extremely soundly, even ordinary folks will change their breathing pattern in their sleep if there’s something unusual nearby—even if they’re not fully awakened. Duan Yunhe’s cultivation was far from profound; she was pretty much like any other person. Yet after Qiu Huan entered the room and knocked someone out, sending them crashing to the floor, the resulting commotion should have been enough to wake her up. There was no way she could still be sleeping so peacefully. Qiu Huan worried that Duan Yunhe might not be asleep at all—she could be in a deep coma.

Qiu Huan gently tapped her cheek, but there was no response at all.

She pressed a bit harder this time. This time, Duan Yunhe did stir—but not in a good way. A tiny streak of dark blood trickled down the corner of her mouth, clearly indicating a severe poisoning.

Qiu Huan cursed herself for being careless. Many assassins have a habit of coating their weapons with poison, and some even prefer poisons that take effect slowly. She had let her guard down because Duan Yunhe seemed fine earlier and hadn’t bothered to carefully examine her wounds—otherwise, she surely would have spotted the telltale signs.

Although Qiu Huan felt a bit guilty, she couldn’t really blame herself. First, she’d been injured herself, so it was only natural that she hadn’t had the bandwidth to attend to others. Second… well, I’ll save that for another time.

Ming Zhen was the suspect, so obviously he couldn’t treat Duan Yunhe. Qiu Huan herself felt the comatose young lady’s pulse and found it chaotic, as if she’d been poisoned by several different toxins at once. Besides the poison Wang Laohu had coated on his weapon, there seemed to be some kind of chronic poison that had been festering inside her body for a long time. At the moment, she had no clue what to do, let alone how to counteract the poison. Qiu Huan did know a bit about medicine, especially trauma and poisons—she’d put in some effort in those areas—but overall she wasn’t exactly an expert. Still, she could pass herself off as a healer and fool people. So she figured that a poison this baffling was beyond the reach of ordinary clinics; she’d have to find a highly skilled physician, preferably one who specialized in antidotes.

However, doctors here in Wusu enjoyed a very high status, after all, everyone gets minor ailments now and then, and people always held doctors in a certain degree of awe and gratitude. Especially the so-called “famous doctors”—many of them were full of themselves—and getting them to treat you was incredibly difficult. On top of that, neither Qiu Huan nor Yuan Mo were the type to grovel or beg, so this avenue was simply out of the question.

After thinking it over, Qiu Huan decided she’d have to contact Cheng Jingtian, the master of Xinggu Valley. Although he had a quirky personality, his top-notch medical skills were beyond doubt. Plus, having him around would also help balance Ming Zhen’s pressure on her. So she activated the蛊 insects within her body, waiting for him to send a signal and get in touch.

An hour later, the sky was starting to lighten, and Yuan Mo, who’d made a few adjustments, looked much more alert. Just then, Cheng Jingtian sent a message: he happened to be in Wusu these days and invited Qiu Huan to meet him at Shuanglin Garden in two days, saying he’d love to try her fruit wine, among other things.

The two exchanged a glance. They both knew that right now, Xinxiang was a den of thieves and tigers, but they had no choice but to go anyway.

On the way back, Qiu Huan, worried about Duan Yunhe, asked Yuan Mo to arrange a carriage for them. After all, they were traveling along a busy, well-lit main road, so there was no real danger. In fact, if an assassin missed the first strike, they’d usually wait for a safer opportunity to make a second attempt. With the skirmish at the inn now over, the situation for Qiu Huan and the others wasn’t particularly urgent; most of their precautions were simply due to Yuan Mo’s cautious nature.

All three of them sat inside the carriage, driven by one of Yuan Mo’s men.

—After all, Yuan Mo was one of the six leaders of the Tonglou Sect; not only was he a Flying Falcon, but he also acted as the master’s deputy. Don’t underestimate him just because he’s a bodyguard.

“Ah Mo, what exactly happened to you last night?” Qiu Huan kept an eye on the still-unconscious Duan Yunhe, recalling the hair-raising moments of the previous night—not so much fear as concern about inadvertently dragging others into trouble.

It might sound a bit sentimental, but Qiu Huan always took whatever happened to her in stride; even if something truly went wrong, she wouldn’t hold a grudge. On the other hand, though, whenever someone hurt someone close to her, her reaction was always extremely intense.

When Yuan Mo was asked about this, his expression turned cold: “Last night, after I caught up with that rogue, I realized she was Dong Qing from Caitan Tower, which meant things had taken a turn. But her weapon happened to be colorful silk, and we got tangled up—there was no way I could break free right away, so I ended up coming back late.” Because of his own lack of strength, he’d almost caused Qiu Huan harm. While she was suffering from the backlash of internal energy, the pain in his heart was no less than hers.

End of Chapter 16: Perched atop the Charcoal Stove