Chapter Fifty-Four: Awakening

Mo Nianian had watched over Jiang Hu for an entire night, yet there was not the slightest sign of improvement. Rising to her feet, she gazed at him for a long, silent moment.

In a detached tone, she murmured, “Mission failed. Let’s move on to the next world.”

Yet before her words had fully faded, the man before her suddenly opened his eyes and seized her hand. “Master, don’t abandon me!”

“You… you’re awake?” For a brief instant, Mo Nianian could hardly believe what she was witnessing.

She had already braced herself for the mission’s failure.

She never expected him to wake, but she had to admit—a wave of relief flooded through her the very moment Jiang Hu regained consciousness.

Jiang Hu’s expression was desperate as he gripped her hand with all his feeble strength. He was so weak that he couldn’t utter a single word before slipping back into unconsciousness.

“Someone! Hurry, fetch the physician!” Mo Nianian shouted toward the door.

Chaos erupted once more in the Regent's Manor.

Jiang Hu became a living miracle. None of the imperial physicians, not even in their wildest imagination, had believed he would wake.

But as long as he was awake, that was enough.

The physicians prescribed medicine for Jiang Hu and instructed him to take it on time.

Jiang Hu refused to let go of Mo Nianian’s hand, so she had no choice but to stay by his bedside.

Baishao brought in the decoction, but no matter how she tried, Jiang Hu stubbornly refused to open his mouth. The medicine spilled everywhere.

Baishao grew anxious. “Why won’t he drink? The doctor said he must take his medicine!”

She tried again to pour a spoonful into his mouth, but he pressed his thin lips together, and the medicine splashed out once more.

Mo Nianian’s brow furrowed tightly.

Baishao, sweating in frustration, turned to her. “Miss, what should we do?”

“Give me the medicine. I’ll try,” Mo Nianian replied.

Baishao hesitated. “How can Miss do this herself?”

She was the precious daughter of the house, and she had watched over this slave for so long—allowing him to hold her hand was already the greatest of favors.

What more could he possibly want?

“Step aside. Let me.” Mo Nianian repeated, and Baishao, still reluctant, handed her the spoon.

Thanks to time spent caring for a sick Jiang Hu in the last world, Mo Nianian was now quite adept at tending to others.

She blew gently on the spoon and brought it toward Jiang Hu.

He made no reaction, so Mo Nianian gave his hand a little squeeze and spoke softly, “You have to take your medicine if you want to get well quickly.”

“Be good, let’s finish the medicine.”

Her tone was coaxing, as if comforting a child.

To her surprise, Jiang Hu actually parted his lips ever so slightly.

Baishao was beside herself with frustration. What, did Miss’s medicine somehow taste less bitter? Would he only drink if she fed him?

“That’s enough, help me take the bowl away, and send for the physician again,” Mo Nianian instructed.

Baishao shot a glare at the still-unconscious Jiang Hu before leaving the room with great reluctance.

The physician had been waiting in the corridor. At her summons, he entered quickly, examined Jiang Hu, and hesitated.

“Speak frankly. What is his true condition?” Mo Nianian pressed.

The physician finally replied, “Though the young master is awake and his life is no longer in danger, all the meridians in his body have been destroyed. Hereafter, I fear—”

He is ruined.

Mo Nianian tapped the table with her fingertip. “And?”

“He is gravely injured, the damage goes to his very core. I fear his life will not be—”

The physician didn’t finish, but everyone knew what he meant.

Mo Nianian fell silent for a moment. “I understand. Please prescribe some medicine to help him recover.”

“It is my duty as your servant.”

After the physician left, Mo Nianian glanced several times at Jiang Hu’s unconscious form.

“Tsk, this is troublesome,” she muttered.

She hated owing favors, and now she owed a life.

Her last debt was still unpaid.

Well, what could she do? She could only tend to him as best she could.

Jiang Hu awoke from darkness, unsure whether he was dreaming or awake. He stared at Mo Nianian for a long time, his eyes burning with devout fervor.

Mo Nianian cleared her throat. “Now that you’re awake, you should eat something.”

“Master…” he called softly, a faint light in his eyes.

He hadn’t died. He was still alive. His master was still at his side.

Jiang Hu’s gaze grew ever more intense, making Mo Nianian uncomfortable.

“So… could you let go of my hand now?”

She tried to pull away, but Jiang Hu reflexively gripped her even tighter.

Soon, he realized what he was doing and, as if burned, released her hand at once.

“Master… this… it was all my fault.”

How did he dare?

Mo Nianian nonchalantly withdrew her hand. “Are you hungry? What would you like to eat?”

“Anything… whatever you wish.” Jiang Hu was dizzy, overwhelmed by this sudden joy.

Mo Nianian went to the kitchen herself to oversee the servants as they prepared a bowl of congee, which she brought to Jiang Hu.

“Careful, it’s still a bit hot.”

Jiang Hu reached out, intending to take the bowl from her, but he’d forgotten how weak he was. He had no strength at all.

His arms were covered in wounds; he couldn’t even lift a bowl.

Quickly, Mo Nianian withdrew it from his grasp. “Never mind, let me do it.”

She scooped up a spoonful and brought it to his lips. “Eat up.”

Jiang Hu was dazed, the scene before him so unreal that he couldn’t be sure whether it was dream or reality.

Mo Nianian, after much effort to restrain her impatience, tried to feed him, but he sat there dumbly, unmoving.

“Eat. Why aren’t you eating?”

His goddess was so close, so close that he was at a loss. Panicked, he looked at Mo Nianian. “I… I can feed myself…”

His heart pounded furiously, as if it might burst; he was utterly undone.

Mo Nianian rolled her eyes. If she didn’t owe him such a great debt, she would never have bothered with all this.

“You? Nonsense! Eat!”

Only then did Jiang Hu seem to wake from a dream. Lowering his head, he tasted the food bit by bit, savoring the simple congee as if it were a rare delicacy.

He ate with such care, as if counting every single grain of rice.

Mo Nianian had never been a patient person. Had it been anyone else eating so slowly, she might have dumped the bowl over their head.

But with Jiang Hu, no matter how annoyed she felt, she could only endure.

Besides, who else could ever enjoy such privilege?

Look at this poor soul—who knows how much he’s suffered before, that even a bowl of congee could bring such bliss?

Mo Nianian found herself feeling just a bit more tender toward him.

Jiang Hu savored every bite, wishing time would stretch on forever. His master was so close—just a little more, and he could gather her into his arms.

He remembered the feeling of holding Mo Nianian’s hand when he awoke. Suddenly, his neck flushed scarlet.

“Is the congee too hot? Why is your neck so red?” Mo Nianian, concerned he might be unwell, reached out to touch his neck.

At this, Jiang Hu’s whole face turned as red as a cooked shrimp, and he sat there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

His eyes brimmed with mist as he stared straight at Mo Nianian, every drop of blood in his body surging and roiling. He was on the verge of losing control of this strange new sensation.

“Are you really ill?” Mo Nianian, growing anxious, turned to summon the physician.

“Master, I’m fine.” Jiang Hu reached out, stopping her.