Destiny Spares No Beauty

Chapter Five: The Bloodlight Has Faded

A cool stream slid down his throat and flowed through his body, bringing sudden clarity to Lin Yizhi’s dulled senses. His eyelids fluttered open. Through the haze, he saw a young girl in green sitting quietly in front of him.

As his vision cleared, his breath caught.

“Zuo Yanxi?!”

Bathed in moonlight, Zuo Yanxi looked more captivating than ever. She smiled sweetly at the now-conscious Lin Yizhi and asked, “Would you like some more water?”

Only then did he notice the girl had folded a leaf into a makeshift cup, holding it gently to his lips.

“What… what are you doing here?” But even as he asked, it was clear his thoughts were elsewhere—more concerned with the puzzle unraveling inside his own head.

“You don’t think your injury’s a bit more pressing at the moment?” she asked with a teasing smile.

It was then Lin Yizhi remembered—the arrow. He tried to move his arm and was instantly wracked with pain.

“Ugh…”

“If it hurts, just scream. No one’s around to hear you anyway,” Zuo Yanxi said cheerfully, watching him with knowing eyes. She could see just how much pain he was suppressing.

Jaw clenched, Lin Yizhi refused to make a sound. He had to endure this, no matter what.

“You really are stubborn,” she muttered with a glint of amusement—and promptly smacked him on the shoulder.

“AAHH!!” he cried out, pain exploding through him. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Oh my, how scary you sound.” Yanxi giggled. “But listen, you'd better get used to crying out. If you hold it in now, you might pass out later—when I pull the arrow out.”

She wasn’t joking. Keeping someone conscious during an extraction was crucial—any lapse could mean shock and death. Lin Yizhi, already drenched in sweat, looked pale as bone. “You… you’re going to pull it out?”

“Of course.” She blinked innocently. “Do you not realize how much blood you’re losing? How much more do you think you’ve got to spare?”

Cold sweat rolled down his forehead. He was weak—so weak.

“You would do that… for me?” he whispered, disbelieving.

“Talking’s getting harder, huh? Then I’d better get on with it.” Without waiting, she tore a strip of cloth from her sleeve and quickly wrapped it tightly around his upper arm to slow the bleeding. Her voice turned gentle, almost like coaxing a child. “If it hurts, scream all you want.”

“…Alright,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

Well, at least he’s obedient, she thought with a smirk.

Zuo Yanxi gripped the arrow firmly. Best to do it in one go—clean and swift.

With a sickening scrape of metal through flesh, the arrow came free. Blood spurted instantly, vivid and violent, staining her pale blue sleeve a brilliant crimson. In the moonlight, she looked almost ghostlike—but utterly calm. She tore off another strip of cloth and pressed it firmly over the wound.

Lin Yizhi had gone rigid, face colorless, sweat pouring down his face. She gently wiped his brow and murmured, “You didn’t even cry out… Don’t you know that could’ve killed you?”

He panted shallowly and gave the faintest shake of his head, his body heavy as stone.

Then he noticed her hand—raised, pale, delicate. In the other, she held a dagger. Alarmed, he rasped, “What are you doing?”

But Zuo Yanxi only smiled.

With a quick motion, she sliced into her arm. Blood welled up immediately. She let it drip into the leaf-cup, and said calmly, “The arrow was made of spirit-tempered silver—its wounds don’t heal, they just keep bleeding until the victim dies.”

When the leaf was nearly full, she bound her own wound, then turned to him with a light smile. “So you have to drink mine.”

His eyes widened in shock. “Why would you…?”

“To keep you alive.” Still smiling, she caught his jaw in one hand and tilted it up, forcing the warm blood past his lips.

He swallowed instinctively—and the world spun. Moments later, everything faded to black.

“Sleep well,” she whispered, watching him with a smile that flickered with mischief—and something else.

The blood of a spirit fox was the most potent healing medicine known in the mortal realm. And Zuo Yanxi—she was no mere mortal.

She was half-fox by blood.

But even as she watched him sleep, a doubt stirred in her heart.

Is this man truly worth the price of my blood?

Time passed differently for her—one year in the world was a century in the valley. Ever since the old sage at the valley’s bottom took her in, she’d lived through a thousand years. And yet she could never forget her mother’s final words:

“Xier, promise me—don’t become a demon…”

The memory stung. She had wanted so badly to be human. But human flesh was fragile—mortal bodies eroded too easily with time. Her old form had long been lost. What remained now was her true, immortal shape. But fate, in its strange design, had given her a second chance—a new body, a strange bond with this man.

It made her feel… unsure.

“Grandpa said you’re my destined calamity,” she whispered, watching his unconscious face. “You’d better behave. If you annoy me again, I’ll swallow you whole. Let’s see how you live out your ‘calamity’ then.”

She burst into laughter.

—

When Lin Yizhi woke again, he was lying in the military camp’s grand tent. General Tu Long and Physician Luo Xian stood vigil at his bedside.

The scent of healing herbs lingered in the air.

As he stirred, pain flared in his shoulder.

“Don’t move, my lord!” Luo Xian warned him quickly. “The wound may reopen!”

Reopen? Was it already healing?

“How long… have I been asleep?” Lin Yizhi asked hoarsely.

“Two days, my lord,” Tu Long answered.

Two days? And already healing?

He frowned. “Any movements from the Xi Lan forces?”

“Our reinforcements arrived steadily, and the Xi Lan army has retreated deep into the forest,” Tu Long replied.

A pause. Then: “Where’s the Princess Consort?”

“She prepared this incense to help your recovery, then returned to rest at the farmhouse,” Luo Xian said. “Who would’ve thought the lady has such knowledge of medicine? This incense has worked wonders.”

Of course she does. She even pulled the arrow out with her own hands. Lin Yizhi gave a bitter smile at the memory.

Just then, the tent’s flap was thrown open, flooding the space with golden sunlight. He squinted against it.

The booming laugh that followed was unmistakable—General Zhao Xun had arrived.

“Feeling any discomfort, my lord?” Zhao Xun asked, clearly overjoyed to see him awake.

“Nothing serious—just some aching in the shoulder,” Lin Yizhi replied.

“Oh?” Zhao Xun turned to Luo Xian. “Can anything be done to ease the pain?”

“It’s simply the skin and muscle regrowing, General,” Luo Xian said with a smile. “Quite a good sign.”

“Such a miraculous recovery—how could it happen so quickly?” Zhao Xun looked amazed.

“I’m afraid only the Princess Consort knows the secret,” Luo Xian said modestly.

“She truly is remarkable. You’re a fortunate man, my lord!” Zhao Xun declared with a hearty laugh.

Lin Yizhi could only respond with a wry smile.

Then Luo Xian stepped closer and asked, “My lord, if I may—what method did the Princess Consort use? I’ve practiced medicine for years but have never seen such rapid healing.”

Lin Yizhi thought for a moment. “It’s strange… I was barely conscious. And then she…”

Zhao Xun and Tu Long leaned in.

“She… cut her own arm, and gave me her blood to drink.”

Gasps echoed through the tent.

“She did what?!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” a voice rang out from outside.

Zuo Yanxi stepped into the tent, two handmaidens trailing behind her. Dressed again in pale blue, her long hair unbound and tied simply with a ribbon, she looked calm, sweet—yet utterly composed.

“I heard the Prince was awake, so I brought Ping’er along to visit. Of course, even with Fudi attending him, there’s no substitute for a woman’s gentle touch,” she said, voice soft as she approached his bedside.

“Thank you, Princess Consort,” Lin Yizhi replied coolly, his expression unreadable.

Physician Luo Xian couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Forgive me, Princess, but—what exactly did you do to…”

“The Prince just told you, didn’t he?” she interrupted cheerfully, settling down at the bedside. “Blood. That’s all.”

Luo Xian blinked. “All my years of practice… I never knew human blood had such power…”

“Oh no, no—it’s not just any blood.” She laughed softly.

Everyone stared.

“That blood was infused with deep affection for the Prince, of course.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she covered her mouth with her sleeve and chuckled.

Laughter spread around the room.

“Truly miraculous—miraculous indeed!” Zhao Xun roared, followed by Tu Long, then even Luo Xian, who finally caught the joke and joined in.

“Then may I ask,” Zhao Xun continued, still grinning, “did your love and devotion also lead you to find the Prince when he was wounded?”

Zuo Yanxi giggled again. “Why, General, you’re too clever. Yes, it was my deep, guiding love that led the heavens to show me the way.”

Lin Yizhi’s face turned red, then white.

Love? Heaven’s guidance?

As the others filed out, offering them privacy, something in Lin Yizhi’s heart twisted.

Just now—Tu Long had called her “Your Grace.” He had bowed.

Tu Long had once challenged me thrice before he’d bow to anyone… and now… this woman?

Lin Yizhi stared at her closely.

This woman before him—this poised, teasing, enigmatic creature—was nothing like the Zuo Yanxi he’d once married.

Back then, she’d been quiet, almost invisible. Head bowed, voice soft, eyes averted. She had wept at the slightest frown from him, and they had barely exchanged more than polite greetings.

Now…

The woman sitting beside him was like a completely different person.

And for the first time—he didn’t know whether that terrified him, or intrigued him more.