Chapter 18 — Praying for Tham Yen Tri Binh A

But the stitches are still there, just looking at them hurts. He leaned against the head of the bed and said "yeah", letting her scold him. "After more than ten stitches, I will be obedient. Let's see if you still dare to block for me in the future." So Lang Yen took the ointment and applied it to the tip of his finger, gently applying it to the newly grown pink skin: "Next time you block, I will take you back to De Kinh. I said I can do it." "Next time, still dare." He said. She raised her eyes and glared at him. Tham Yen Tri leaned against the head of the bed, her lips still white. But his eyes did not avoid, just looked straight at her. He moved his eyes, the corners of his lips moved slightly. So Lang Yen pretended not to see and continued to wrap the bandage. The tip of the ear is slightly red. At night, she dreamed again. This time it wasn't fragments, but a complete scene. She dreamed that she was standing in the middle of a thick fog, hearing someone crying in the distance. So Lang Yen followed the crying sound and walked forward, the mist became thinner and thinner. She saw Tham Yen Tri kneeling in front of a coffin, her forehead resting on the lid. She leaned closer to look at the name on the coffin. This time it was clearer than any time before. She saw the entire word "So", next to it was the word "Lang", the next word was obscured by his fingers. She wanted to see clearly, but the scene suddenly changed. She floats in the sky of Imperial Palace. Throughout the red silk city, the sound of fireworks echoed in the sky. Tham Yen Tri wore a wedding robe, stood in the wedding hall, held other people's hands and worshiped heaven and earth. He turned his head to look at the door once, just once. She followed his eyes. A small messenger soldier knelt outside the doorway, the military report in hand was stopped by the person next to him. So Lang Yen suddenly opened his eyes. In the dim tent, the oil lamp was turned off. She turned around and sat up, her whole body covered in cold sweat, her heart beating like a drum. She held the corner of the blanket and sat for a long time, then lifted the blanket, walked barefoot to the tent door, lifted the curtain and looked out. Tham Yen Tri sat in front of the tent door, his back leaning against the column, in his hand holding a rabbit lamp with one ear missing. He was sleeping, his eyebrows were still frowning. The firelight illuminates the profile of the face in light and dark. So Lang Yen stood behind the curtain and looked at him for a long time. Without waking him, he turned back to bed. She pieced together each broken piece in her heart. Coffins, white flags, funerals, and military reports were blocked. It's not that he didn't come, it's that he didn't know. That military report was blocked on the street. Three days later he found out she was dead. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her knees. While changing the medicine for him, So Lang Yen suddenly asked, "In your previous life, you married the daughter of Tran Bac Hau, To Uyen, right?" The bowl of medicine in Tham Yen Tri's hand almost fell. The medicinal liquid shook, a few drops spilled on the table. He was silent for a long time, so long that she thought he wouldn't answer. Then he looked up at her and placed the bowl of medicine on the table. His voice was very light but not evasive, each word seemed to be confessing a long-hidden crime. "Yes. After you left, I married her." So Lang Yen nodded. She bowed her head and continued to wrap him in bandages, round after round, her movements very steady. So Lang Yen did not ask further, but her hands trembled slightly. After wrapping, she tied the knot, stood up, picked up the empty medicine bowl, walked to the tent door and stopped, without turning around. "I believe what you told me about your past life. When you get well, tell me everything." Tham Yen Tri had her stitches removed. The military doctor said the wound healed quite well, but the tendons in the left shoulder were damaged. For three months, he was not allowed to use weight, and the medicine had to be changed on time every day. So Lang Yen, standing next to him, added: "If he secretly practices swordsmanship, you tell me and I will teach him." Tham Yen Tri looked at her. Her face didn't change color, she took the old bandage he had just taken off and threw it away. In the evening, after returning from the patrol, she stopped in front of the cliff. There are several rows of new engravings on the wall. She squatted down and ran her hand across the words "Fight with you". When the tip of the finger touches the indentation

down, a sudden dizziness struck. Instinctively, she placed her hands on the cliff. Ice cold on the palm of your hand. After that, countless images looked like floodwaters breaking a dike and rushing in. So Lang Yen slowly opened his eyes. The north wind rushed through the apricot hole, blowing her sideburns across her cheeks. Her hand was still resting on the cliff, her nails were slightly white from the force. She remembered her death, remembered him kneeling in front of the coffin and cried, remembered the moment she completely disappeared when he finished calling the word "Yen". But what happened after it disappeared, she didn't know. So Lang Yen stood up and turned around. Tham Yen Tri was standing three steps away from her. He was wearing moonlight white clothes, the bandage had been removed, the wound on his left shoulder was hidden under the cloth. In his hand he held the bowl of medicine he had just prepared, and he stood there for who knows how long. The sunset light spread from the Bac Canh mountain range, illuminating his face half in light and half in darkness. He looked at her as if waiting for her to speak. She walked up to him and raised her head to look at his face. He had lost too much weight, his cheekbones were prominent, and the dark circles under his eyes had never disappeared since coming to Bac Canh. "I remember." She opened her mouth, her voice trembling but each word was steady, "I remember how I died, I remember you becoming my family, I remember you kneeling in front of the coffin and calling my name."