After Reincarnating into Ancient Times, She Bound a Express Delivery System - Chapter 232: Tuberculosis

Chapter 232

Seven-year-old Ximen Ye was enticed.

His wound hurt so much.

But every time he went home injured, his father would only scold him for being useless, telling him to figure it out himself, and even forbidding the doctor from treating him…

Reluctantly, he said, “Fine, apply the medicine.”

“Friend, wait a moment.”

Song Jingche ran to the courtyard and foolishly shouted a few times at the top of his lungs. Soon, a group of even more foolish people came from outside the yard.

The Song family, from beyond the wall, asked him incessantly what was wrong.

For the first time in his life, he lied and obtained some wound medicine.

After he finished applying the medicine to Ximen Ye, he invited him to sleep in his bed, eat his food, read his books, and endlessly shared all sorts of secrets with him.

Though as thin as a little chick and suffering from an incurable disease, he was as optimistic as a fool.

He asked Song Jingche why.

Song Jingche answered, “Because of love.”

“My grandparents, parents, brother, and sister all love me very much.”

“They hope I’ll get better, hope I’m happy every day. But unfortunately, I’m useless. I’ve taken so much medicine, spent so much money, yet still haven’t improved.”

“However, I can stay happy and not let them worry. Aren’t I great?”

“This is the power of love.”

Ximen Ye turned over, his back to him, and grimaced in the dark night: “Tch, so what if you’re loved?”

“…Don’t you have anyone who loves you?”

“…” Ximen Ye ground his back teeth even louder.

Seeing him not answering for a long time, Song Jingche kindly and generously said, “I have so much love, I can share half with you.”

“Grandfather is mine, grandmother is yours. Father is mine, mother is yours. Brother is mine, sister is yours…”

When he said he’d share half, he really meant half.

After he finished, he added, “My grandmother, mother, and sister are the gentlest! I’ll give you my best half!”

“And, I’ll love you very much too!”

“Because we’re friends.”

…

As distant memories flooded his mind one by one, Ximen Ye’s heart swelled with both sourness and fullness.

He raised his crimson eyes, gripping Qi Huan’s chin, his hoarse voice filled with endless regret and despair.

“If you had appeared earlier, Che might not have died.”

Che died in his arms on a cold winter day.

In his final moments, Che’s face was ashen, frail beyond measure, yet he could still cough up so much blood.

Ximen Ye caught it with his hands, wanting to pour it back into him to prevent him from bleeding to death.

Blood smeared all over Song Jingche’s face as he pleaded with his last breath, “Ye, I’ll give you my other half of relatives too, okay?”

“Pretend to be me, pretend I’m still alive, don’t let them be sad.”

“…Take good care of them for me, and… take care of yourself too.”

“…Don’t cry. I’ll tell you a secret, I’m actually in so much pain. If I die, I won’t feel pain anymore… You should be happy for me, shouldn’t you?”

“Ye, stop crying. I want to see you smile…”

Ximen Ye forced what he thought was his best smile, but it looked worse than crying. He nodded, agreeing to everything.

Yet he still couldn’t keep him.

The doctor declared that Song Jingche was only experiencing a temporary improvement before death, and would certainly die soon after. He then retreated like fleeing from a fierce beast, wanting to stay far away from the consumptive, and kindly reminded:

“Young master, why are you still holding him? He has consumption, be careful not to get infected…”

In a flash of inspiration, Ximen Ye suddenly had an idea.

Since childhood, he had eaten poison followed by antidotes as casually as eating candy, and his father had successfully cultivated in him an immunity to all poisons.

Could his blood cure Che’s consumption?

Without hesitation, he bit through the skin and flesh of his wrist. Crimson blood seeped from his fair skin, winding and meandering, seductive and beautiful, like a blooming spider lily.

Ximen Ye pried open Song Jingche’s mouth, making him suck on his wound and drink his blood.

Unexpectedly, Che died even faster.

He had been poisoned to death…

From then on, he could never forgive himself.

*

In Qi Huan’s impression, Ximen Ye was lazy, long-winded, greedy, vindictive, and killed as easily as cutting vegetables, yet he was also very protective and exceptionally good to the Song family.

Ever since he gave up hunting Ashu, Qi Huan had sincerely treated him as an eccentric cousin.

However, it now seemed that “Song Jingche” must have been his false identity, and the Master of the Misty Rain Pavilion was his only true identity.

Qi Huan waved two fingers in front of him, “How many?”

“Three.”

“Great!”

Qi Huan gave him a thumbs up, her face bearing a mischievous smile, and cautiously probed, “What’s your name?”

“Ximen Ye.”

“…But, I’ll allow you to call me by my nickname—Yeye.”

Qi Huan: …

This name was truly awful, calling it once would lower one’s status by two generations.

Seeing her silent, Ximen Ye impatiently clicked his tongue, “Don’t be ungrateful, I’ve only told you my nickname.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“You really don’t have to.”

Quickly ending this topic, Qi Huan changed the subject, asking why he had infiltrated the Song family? Why pretend to be Song Jingche? Being so kind without any blood relation always made people uneasy.

The drunk Ximen Ye, his eyes no longer as clear as usual, stood beside her against the wall, rambling on about his past with Che, recounting every detail of their time together.

He nearly went as far as to describe what color underwear Che preferred.

Qi Huan coughed uncomfortably.

“That’s enough, I understand why you’re good to the Song family now, I’m reassured.”

“…I just didn’t expect you to be so loyal.”

“What’s so special about that?” After being praised, if Ximen Ye had a tail, it would surely be wagging to the sky.

Proudly, he recounted all the good deeds he had done over the years.

“I’ve burned many gold paper money for Che, so he’d want for nothing in the afterlife. I’ve also burned a lot of candy for him, hoping he’d only taste sweetness from now on, no more bitterness…”

Ten years of life and death, two vast expanses, Ximen Ye gradually couldn’t continue. He closed his sore eyes and murmured, “Do you think he received them?”

Qi Huan softly replied, “Mm.”

Hearing him speak again, “Can you sell me the formula for the consumption medicine?”

“…You’re not planning to burn the formula for Che too, are you?”

Ximen Ye shook his head, “I just want to help Che accumulate some merit.”

“After getting the formula, I’ll send people to post it at various branches of the Misty Rain Pavilion.”

“So there will be no more consumption in the world.”

This was the wish Che had repeatedly made on each of his birthdays.

Even if it would be costly and troublesome.

Even if it was face-losing for an assassin organization to do life-saving deeds.

But he still wanted to fulfill all of Che’s wishes.

However, Qi Huan refused him: “I won’t sell the formula.”

Mainly because ancient doctors wouldn’t understand the components of Western medicine.

But…

“I can sell the ready-made pills!”