Chapter 149: Terminally Ill

Deep within the Foggy Forest, the black sky radiated an eerie aura, and the air was thick with a suffocating sense of oppression.

The roars of wild beasts drifted faintly on the cold night wind, rising and falling, near and far. Entwined with the low, mournful gusts, the sounds resembled the whimpers of lost ghosts, making one’s entire body tremble.

Surrounded by dense thickets, two figures sat huddled beneath a towering tree, blending into the darkness. One of them kept inching closer to the other.

"For heaven's sake, stop crowding me!" Fu Wenzhou snapped, his voice icy and beyond the limit of his patience. "Get away from me!"

Yun Nian rubbed his nose and looked at him innocently. "But I’m afraid of the dark."

The veins on Fu Wenzhou’s arm bulged, his restraint clearly pushed to the brink. "You’ve lived out here alone for years, and you’re telling me you’re afraid of the dark?"

Yun Nian blinked. "I don’t go out at night, you see."

Fu Wenzhou fell silent. He closed his eyes, feeling utterly exhausted. He decided that when he and Youyou had children, they would never be like this; raising a child was far too draining. It would be better for just the two of them.

Thinking he had fallen asleep, Yun Nian leaned against him again.

Fu Wenzhou’s eyes snapped open, and he gritted his teeth. "You had better cure my wife’s illness, or I’ll make sure you end up returning to the earth alongside your master!"

Yun Nian stiffened and shrank back. "If it’s a terminal illness, there’s nothing I can do."

Fu Wenzhou truly wanted to kick him. The only reason his temper had allowed him to tolerate this person for so long was that he was the disciple of Yun Fang. He took a slow breath, trying to make his voice sound less volatile. "Yun Nian, come, repeat after me."

"Repeat what?" Yun Nian asked, puzzled.

"Say: 'I will definitely be able to cure Fu Wenzhou’s wife’s illness.'"

"Monks do not speak falsehoods. What if your wife has a terminal..." A flash of light cut through the air, and a cold sensation touched Yun Nian’s throat. He swallowed hard and quickly changed his tone: "I will definitely be able to cure Fu Wenzhou’s wife’s illness."

Fu Wenzhou narrowed his long, narrow eyes dangerously. He withdrew the short blade with deliberate slowness and wiped the edge with his clothes. "Remember your words. If you can’t cure her, you can go down and keep your master company."

Yun Nian pursed his lips. "How is this any different from a feudal emperor in ancient times ordering an imperial physician to save his concubine? It’s completely unreasonable."

Fu Wenzhou frowned immediately and let out a cold snort. "Of course it’s different. The difference is that my Youyou can only be the Empress, and I won’t take any concubines."

Yun Nian was left speechless.

Although most of the man’s words were likely just threats and he wouldn't actually kill him, Yun Nian still felt that this person’s brain wasn't quite right. His entire world seemed to revolve around the person named Song Qingyou. How could a normal person’s life revolve entirely around someone else?

So, Yun Nian kindly suggested, "How about I check your pulse? I suspect you might have some blood clots in your brain."

"Blood clots?"

"Yes," Yun Nian said. "If the cerebral blood vessels are blocked, it can cause the symptoms you’re showing—like having a brain circuit different from normal people, emotional instability, irritability, and most importantly, a tendency toward paranoia."

Fu Wenzhou was silent for a full three seconds. Yun Nian expected him to fly into a rage and press the blade against his throat again. Instead, to his surprise, the man just asked in a low voice, "If the condition is serious, will it hurt my wife?"

Yun Nian was stunned.

Then, he saw the man look up at the moonlight and say with a lazy tone, "I am quite paranoid, it’s true. My wife often says I’m sick. I never expected that my brain might actually be sick."

"..."

Suddenly, as if thinking of something, the man’s face turned ugly. "If I need surgery to remove the blood clot, wouldn't I have to shave my head? That won't do! My wife loves this hairstyle; she specifically told me to get a wolf cut! What if I shave it all off and my wife stops loving me?" He grabbed Yun Nian’s arm. "Is there any way to remove the thing in my brain without opening my skull?"

Yun Nian: ...

"Speak! Are you mute?" Fu Wenzhou said impatiently.

Yun Nian hesitated for a long time before saying tactfully, "Maybe just forget it. I think you're already beyond saving."

Fu Wenzhou: "...It can't be that bad? Is the illness that severe?"

Yun Nian nodded and then shook his head, finally choosing to shift the topic. "How much longer until we can walk out of here?"

Fu Wenzhou lifted his eyelids to look above. Dark clouds obscured the moon, and the trees were so towering that not a sliver of the sky could be seen. He said faintly, "Three and a half days."

"Oh," Yun Nian said thoughtfully. "Didn't you say your wife only gave you seven days?"

Fu Wenzhou’s heart constricted. "Damn it!"

Yun Nian: "Please don't swear."

"Don't poke at a sore spot," Fu Wenzhou sneered.

Yun Nian stopped talking, took a bottle of medicine from his person, and handed it to him. "Take this."

Fu Wenzhou took it, poured out a pill, and swallowed it in one gulp.

Yun Nian said, "Take one every day; it will accelerate the healing of your wounds."

"Thanks."

Hearing him offer thanks, Yun Nian felt a chill of terror.

For the next while, neither of them spoke, both closing their eyes to rest. Two hours later, Fu Wenzhou woke Yun Nian up. "Let's go."

Yun Nian rubbed his eyes, and just as he was about to get up, he saw Fu Wenzhou’s expression change drastically.

He asked curiously, "What’s wrong?"

Fu Wenzhou’s eyes were fixed on the space behind Yun Nian, his voice very deep. "Don't move."

Yun Nian gradually felt a chill creeping up his back—a primal fear of impending death rising from his instincts. He kept swallowing, watching as Fu Wenzhou swiftly drew the short blade he had been using to threaten him all along.

Yun Nian didn't dare to look back. "Fu Wenzhou, what... what is behind me?"

"A snake," Fu Wenzhou said, a thin sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead, his expression cold and grim. "A green anaconda."