Chapter 104: Song Shi'an Is Kind of Dead |
Xinyue sensed Song Shi'an's fragility.
The reason he would make such a request was probably because when his mother fed him medicine as a child, she had also said such words—Dalang, drink your medicine.
However, she really had no way to play the role of his mother and speak to him with even more gentle indulgence.
Because that would be... weird.
"How many of our people died?"
While drinking the medicine, even though he was still trembling, Song Shi'an asked.
"Two thousand soldiers died, and four thousand seven hundred civilians died," Xinyue said. "But Your Highness had those clan bandits' able-bodied militia don armor and man the walls, so the army has been replenished back to twelve thousand."
"The losses are still a bit too heavy."
Although there were a total of forty-five thousand people in the city, it was different from Ji Yuan's two hundred thousand plus—his side was purely adult males (fourteen years and above).
Women could count as 0.6 labor power, and children could only count as 0.2.
If they continued fighting like this, by the end, perhaps fewer than one-third of the people would survive.
"Since Ji Yuan definitely also has malaria, will they retreat?" Xinyue asked.
"Impossible," Song Shi'an said with certainty. "Under normal circumstances, when malaria breaks out, the deaths and injuries caused inside versus outside the city cannot be compared."
From Ji Yuan's perspective, one could even say his opportunity had come.
No matter how severe, on his side, the total death rate from malaria would at most be ten percent.
Of course, it wasn't that one out of ten who got malaria would die—generally, when people got this disease, seven out of ten would die, and the remaining three weren't saved by ancient medicine; it was purely because their cases weren't too severe, plus they had strong resistance.
That is, out of two hundred thousand-plus people, twenty thousand would die.
But in the city, normally speaking, at least one-third would die, thirty percent or more.
"But with our advanced preparations and sweet wormwood treatment, we can suppress the death rate to match theirs, or even less than theirs."
Song Shi'an felt it would definitely be less.
From prevention to spread to treatment, he had done everything possible.
This was dimensional superiority.
"It really did turn out as you predicted—a plague appeared."
Xinyue was still somewhat incredulous.
Because not every war would have a malaria outbreak.
"It's because there are too many, far too many people in Shuofeng."
Song Shi'an explained: "And it's the height of summer. Once one case appears, it becomes uncontrollable. Fortunately, summer is short in the north—we just need to endure this hottest month."
"Can you endure it?"
Xinyue, having finished feeding him the medicine, gazed at him.
"I know my own body; I'm still okay right now."
Song Shi'an felt that the chill had subsided considerably, and he revealed a faint smile: "Sure enough, Heaven favors me."
Seeing him like this, Xinyue also relaxed a bit: "That's good then."
But just as she finished speaking, Song Shi'an's complexion changed dramatically.
Visibly wrong.
"What, what's wrong?"
Xinyue panicked a little too.
"Water, get water." Song Shi'an threw off the blanket wrapped around him and said, trembling.
Seeing this, Xinyue hurriedly went out to fetch water.
Hot, scorching hot.
Is this what breaking malaria feels like?
Fuck you, Heaven! Indifferent sky, why are you so cruel to me!
Just now must have been the cold phase.
And once that passed, it was the violent fever phase, fierce as a wild beast.
Inside his body, it was like there was a furnace, burning violently. His skin became scalding hot, his head felt like it was splitting. Song Shi'an felt his current body temperature must be forty degrees Celsius.
No, it has to be over forty!
I'm turning into a human torch!
Song Shi'an anxiously stripped off his stifling clothes.
At this moment, Xinyue came in carrying water and saw Song Shi'an stripping completely naked in front of her. Her face heated up slightly and her heart tightened, but without any hesitation, she poured the water into the wooden tub.
At a time like this, there was no room for any improper thoughts.
All there was, was some sympathy.
He looked like he was kind of dead...
Xinyue continued running out to fetch water.
Song Shi'an also soaked into the wooden tub. He felt—he even heard the "hiss—" of red-hot iron hitting water.
But fortunately, his body felt much better.
Xinyue fetched bucket after bucket of water, filling the wooden tub more than halfway.
"Ahh..."
With both hands gripping the edge of the tub, Song Shi'an's headache had already started causing tinnitus, as if there were planes taking off inside, the pain so intense he was nearly twisted with agony.
"Drink, drink medicine, Dalang?"
Xinyue became flustered and at a loss.
"Yes, keep drinking." Song Shi'an managed to say.
How to extract artemisinin from sweet wormwood—how could Song Shi'an, a liberal arts student, possibly know?
All he could do was max out the dosage.
Besides, he should be constantly drinking hot water anyway.
At a time like this, don't worry about medicine being three parts poison—you can only focus on health preservation if you're alive.
"Okay, right away."
Xinyue continued feeding Song Shi'an medicine.
"Am I a good county magistrate?"
While being fed medicine, extremely weak, Song Shi'an asked in a dazed and powerless voice.
Xinyue's heart leapt to her throat.
He thinks he's about to die and wants someone to eulogize him!
"Drink your medicine quickly." As she fed him medicine, Xinyue said, "You are. Just treating common people as human beings already makes you one."
"I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"
"No, I've personally witnessed everything—you've been worthy of everyone."
"Then am I... a person of high moral character, free from vulgar interests, noble, trustworthy, likable—a good person?"
"You're already this weak, so talk less and drink your medicine quickly."
Xinyue, fuck you.
After doing his utmost to lower his body temperature with water, Song Shi'an slowly exhaled...
"I want to transfer this pain to Ji Yuan." Song Shi'an fantasized. "Or connect him to my pain—might as well die together."
"You've started talking nonsense."
Xinyue soaked a cloth, wrung it out slightly, folded it into a long strip, had Song Shi'an tilt his head back, and placed it on his forehead.
With his eyes closed, Song Shi'an was like a dead dog.
Compared to breaking malaria, even getting COVID wasn't this bad.
"Xinyue, remember to scrub your body with mugwort water, especially since you're by my side right now. Don't let mosquitoes bite you. Malaria is when mosquitoes suck poisoned blood from a patient and then transmit it into a normal person's body. Don't argue with me—arguing with me is useless..."
Song Shi'an was indeed delirious from fever, talking to himself incoherently.
"I understand."
Xinyue answered him, then sat on the ground beside him, just watching the pitiful Song Shi'an, asking with concern: "Since you know it transmits this way, why did you personally go to control the plague? Issuing orders from the command tent would have been the same."
Song Shi'an, lying back with his eyes closed, replied: "I only trust myself."
"But now that you've collapsed, everyone will panic."
"It's fine. You can't get malaria again in the short term. Once I recover, I'll have an invincible golden body."
"What if you die?"
"Oh right." Hearing her say this, Song Shi'an spoke hoarsely: "There's a memorial under the pillow. If I really do die, give it to Little Wei. Everything's written in it—it can guide him all the way back to Sheng'an."
Little Wei...
Xinyue suddenly wanted to complain, but she was more concerned about something else right now: "You're so calm about death?"
"Who's calm? I didn't say I'm dying. Who the hell wants to die..."
"What I mean is, if you're seeking wealth and status, you've already passed as Jieyuan. With your ability, you'll be wealthy and noble no matter which path you take. If you're greedy for money, doesn't your family have money? If you like women, just continue like before—listening to songs at the pleasure houses."
"Why didn't you add 'if' before 'like women'..."
"Why!"
Xinyue persistently wanted to know, so she asked with rare stubbornness: "Why do you want to live, yet put yourself in mortal danger, yet seek life in the midst of death, yet face irresistible death with such equanimity?"
She really wanted to know.
"Seems like you have quite a story, Xinyue..."
Song Shi'an grabbed the towel, lifted his head, slowly handed out the towel, and said weakly: "If I can survive, when we have time, let's drink together and talk about life."
"Mm, let's talk."
Xinyue took the towel, re-soaked and dampened it for him, wrung it half-dry, and placed it on his forehead.
Compared to the burning earlier, Song Shi'an had gradually improved somewhat.
But his body was as weak as a noodle.
"I'm not dead... gonna sleep for a bit."
Lying against the edge of the tub, Song Shi'an was truly a bit tired.
Xinyue leaned close, using her fingers to sense his breath—so hot.
She touched his neck—scalding.
He might die at any moment...
Nervously, she sat beside him keeping watch.
Suddenly, she remembered she hadn't scrubbed herself with mugwort water today, so she boiled a basin of mugwort water.
With her back to the bath tub, she loosened her clothes, sat on a stool, took a cloth, moistened it, and wiped every part of her skin...
When you have malaria, you can't sleep at all, even if you're exhausted.
Song Shi'an hazily opened his eyes.
He saw Xinyue with her back to him, slowly wiping her body.
Her neck was graceful, her shoulders perfectly sculpted.
She wasn't a weak woman. Though she couldn't be called muscular, her beautiful form displayed strength and resilience. The several scars on her back didn't diminish this beauty.
Very beautiful.
Song Shi'an just watched silently like this, completely calm.
It wasn't until she finished wiping and stood up that he closed his eyes again...
...
The next day, all the discomfort had dissipated along with the desperate, painful memories.
Song Shi'an was revived at full health.
Malaria that isn't too severe is just like that.
Although it might be intermittent and could relapse, at least he'd survived the first wave!
At this time, Xinyue was still holding her sword, leaning against the table, sitting on the ground in deep sleep.
She probably watched over him all night.
Unexpectedly, even in a military camp, there would be a girl worried about his death.
A deep revolutionary friendship had been established.
Song Shi'an climbed out of the water that had been "heated" to lukewarm by his own body, and was just about to dry himself and change clothes when Xinyue was awakened by the noise and opened her eyes vigilantly.
The two looked at each other.
Xinyue turned her face to the side.
Damn it, seen several times in one day—I won't be able to get married.
After Song Shi'an changed clothes and arranged his cap, he said easily to Xinyue: "Thanks to Xinyue-daren, I finally survived."
"That's good."
Xinyue turned her head back to look at him.
Suddenly, she covered her mouth and coughed.
Song Shi'an's expression changed immediately: "You didn't catch it too, did you?"
"No, no."
Xinyue quickly turned her head away, but coughed even more violently, her body beginning to tremble.
"Damn it, I told you not to come, not to come, but you insisted on staying here!"
Song Shi'an walked over, reaching out his hand with concern: "Are you okay?"
Suddenly, Xinyue grabbed his arm and smoothly stood up using the momentum.
Then she patted the dust off her butt, picked up her sword, and prepared to leave the tent in front of Song Shi'an, saying lightly: "It's just an act—what could be wrong?"
Song Shi'an: "..."
Are you an idiot?