Chapter 5 — When I was born again, I was content to keep my hands to myself, but that cold and powerful God was frantic again

He stood on the stone bridge, wearing jet black civilian clothes, his body seemed a bit thinner than in memory, and the darkness under his brow bone was even deeper. The water under the bridge reflected his silhouette, torn apart by the waves and then slowly gathered again.

Bich Dao carried a basin of washed clothes and walked over. As soon as she saw the person on the bridge, the basin in her hand immediately slid down, clothes splashing all over the ground.

“Bui… Lord Bui?”

Bui Dien Chi stepped down from the stone bridge, his footsteps still neither fast nor slow like before. He stopped in front of me, his eyes stayed on my face for a long moment.

“She has become thinner.”

In my previous life, I would have considered this statement as painful and merciful. I will speculate time and time again to see if he misses me, if he regrets it. But right now I just feel this statement is redundant. Whether I'm skinny or fat, it has nothing to do with him.

“Is Lord Bui coming to Suzhou for official business?”

I wringed the clothes in my hand, each drop of water dripped onto the river surface, creating ripples and waves.

“I came to find her.”

When he said those words, his tone was extremely calm, as if he was saying something that should have been like that. In his previous life, he never said anything like this to me. He has always been the one sought out by others, and has never had to look for anyone before.

“Master Marquis was joking.”

I put the washed clothes in the wooden basin and stood up.

“The common woman and the Marquis have nothing to do with anything.”

His jaw line tightened slightly. That was a sign before he got angry. I've seen it countless times in my past life, and every time it makes me scared and uneasy. But in this life we are no longer afraid. Because I no longer care.

“Tham Chi Y.”

He called my name, his voice was forced down very low.

“What does she want anyway?”

I looked at the man in front of me, the person I loved for seven years in my previous life, waited for seven years, and finally died outside his hospital door. There was an emotion in his eyes that I had never seen before. Not angry. Not cold either. It was a kind of confusion and impatience that was almost blurred. Like a person who is used to holding everything in his hand, suddenly finds his palm empty.

“Lord Bui.”

I hold the wooden pot to my side.

“I don't want anything anymore.”

I turned around and walked towards the hospital. Bich Dao frantically picked up her clothes from the ground and quickly followed behind me. The river behind was still flowing slowly, the scent of cinnamon flowers in the air was so strong that it was a bit sick. Bui Dien Chi did not chase. But the next day, he appeared again at the gate of my hospital. The third day was the same. The fourth day was still the same. He didn't speak, nor did he step inside, he just stood under the old eucalyptus tree across the alley, just standing for half a day. Bich Dao peeked through the door a few times, then turned back and whispered to me:

“Master Bui is still standing out there.”

I don't pay attention. Should embroider flowers, still embroider flowers. Should you cook rice, still cook rice. On the fifth day, he fell down right in the alley. Bich Dao discovered it first. She went out to buy food and saw Bui Dien Chi leaning against a tree, his face as white as paper, his lips pale and purple. She let out a loud scream. I ran out and saw him holding my hand His stomach and between his fingers were constantly leaking blood. He's injured. We don't know when he was injured. I don't know why he was injured and didn't return to the capital for treatment, but instead stubbornly stood in front of my hospital door. Bich Dao and I helped him into the yard and let him lie down on the couch in the room. Bich Dao brought hot water, I used scissors to cut open his clothes, and saw that under his right rib there was a knife wound that had begun to ulcerate and become infected, the flesh at the edge of the wound had turned out, turning red and dark. He had a very high fever, his forehead was covered in sweat, and his lips were so dry that the skin peeled off. While I was helping him clean his wound, he suddenly grabbed my wrist. He was feverish and confused, his eyes were slightly open, his pupils were no longer focused. The movement in my hand stopped. In his previous life, he also had a high fever once. That year, he led soldiers to calm the chaos, was shot by an arrow on the battlefield, and when he was brought back, he was in a coma for three days. I stayed up next to his bed for three days and three nights, wiping his body with alcohol to help cool him down. He was so feverish that he was delirious, but he called his mother's name. After waking up and seeing me, the first thing he said was:

“Why are you here?”