Chapter 45 — The Golden Bell
劍問蒼天 · Page 4 of 5
Until his steps began to sway, until his strength gave out, until he passed by Bili and his body tottered and he fell, striking the ground heavily, and fainted away.
Bili stared blankly. After a moment's hesitation she went to him, turned him over, and checked him. There was no great harm — only exhaustion, together with hunger and thirst, had made him faint. She was reassured.
But all at once she froze, and asked herself in the depths of her heart: "Why am I reassured? Why should I breathe easier that he's all right?"
The thought flashed through her mind like lightning.
She looked at him deeply. On the youth's still-young face, haggard now from his wounds and from hunger and thirst, even his lips were cracked and dry.
Gently Bili laid him down and gazed at him a long while, then said softly, "Since we're fated to die here together, I don't want to be left alone too soon. At least there's someone to keep me company — that's something, anyway."
She went out to the little pool at the cave mouth, fetched some water, and took out some dry rations, meaning to feed them to Zhang Qingyue with the water.
But Zhang Qingyue, perhaps because he was unconscious, could not swallow the dry food at all. He only drank a little water in his daze from Bili's waterskin and never came to himself.
After fussing over him half the day, Bili was tired herself. When she saw that Zhang Qingyue seemed stable, her eyes slowly closed and she sank into a deep sleep.
She slept she knew not how long. When she woke, her first act was to look at once toward where Zhang Qingyue lay. He was still lying there quietly, motionless, fast asleep, and she was reassured — though she could not help muttering low, "Just like a dead pig!"
As she said it, she smiled to herself. It was as though watching this youth lightened her own heart, and she even forgot for a time the death that would soon come, not far ahead.
But suddenly she felt that although Zhang Qingyue still slept soundly, his face was flushed and something seemed wrong. She quickly reached out to check — and at a touch his skin was burning hot. She started in fright. Of all times, Zhang Qingyue had chosen this moment to come down with a high fever.
As a rule, cultivators of the Way have strong constitutions and are free of common ailments. But Zhang Qingyue had suffered grave wounds over the past days, and his mind and strength were worn out; his body too was badly damaged. In the end, in the Blooddrop Cave, he had searched desperately for a way out without regard for his health, draining his strength utterly. Now that he had fainted, the high fever had broken out.
The illness was no light matter. For a long time the fever would not abate (in the cavern, Bili could not tell how many days had passed). Bili was at her wit's end. She could only fetch more cold water to bring his temperature down, and it was of no use at all.
In time, as the fever would not break, Zhang Qingyue began to rave. Bili was frantic with worry. At the thought of being left alone in this empty, silent cave to wait for death, she was all but terrified out of her wits. Now even a scrap of Zhang Qingyue's raving, even a single gasp, compared with the dreadful days to come, was like music from heaven.
But do what she might — which in truth meant no more than fetching water — in this cave, with no doctor and no medicine, how could she be of any help? Zhang Qingyue's illness grew worse day by day, and his raving more and more frequent.
One day, as Bili kept anxious watch over the unconscious Zhang Qingyue, he suddenly turned over and curled up whole, crying out in his daze, "Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts..." Then all at once he ground his teeth: "You killed my parents, you killed everyone in the village — I'll fight you to the death!"
Bili started and hastily gathered him in her arms. "No, no! There are no ghosts here!"