Maomao
She was tottering along, trying to make her way back from Sparrow's quarters to the medical office.
(I'm... so tired...)
She had already reached her utter limit of exhaustion.
Chishō
After helping Chishō, nothing but troublesome things had happened.
She was imprisoned, escaped without even understanding why, was captured by bandits, forced into labor, and then attacked on the way back.
Sparrow
The surgery had been grueling. The ribs were cracked but hadn't completely separated, which was fortunate. There was no damage to the internal organs either, but the bruising was severe, so she was firmly stabilized. As long as the injuries to her torso weren't too serious, her life was not in danger.
But the problem was her right arm.
There was no way to describe it except as a horrifying sight. It barely retained the shape of an arm. The bones from the elbow down had shattered into a complex web of fractures, and half the flesh had been gouged away.
She had thought Sparrow was capable as a bodyguard, but she had been outmatched. The bear of a man had been so consumed by rage that he couldn't feel pain or think about anything, and he hadn't gone down—with a tenacity almost like a snake's. She had been up against a wounded beast.
Maomao set the bones back into their original shape. She reconnected the torn tendons and stitched the skin closed.
There was no anesthetic, so she had Sparrow bite down on a cloth. She had someone hold Sparrow's limbs to keep her from moving, but Sparrow must have been incredibly tough—she barely moved at all.
Ideally, she would have wanted Sparrow to rest, but they couldn't very well keep camping, so they decided to rush back to the western capital instead.
That had happened just moments ago.
In Maomao's assessment, Sparrow's right arm would likely be useless from now on. The sensation from the elbow down was practically gone, to say the least. All Maomao could do going forward was watch over the reconnected arm and make sure it didn't rot away.
(Will the tendons reconnect properly?)
She had reconnected everything she could. She believed that if the connections healed well, the sensation in Sparrow's hand would return—but this was nothing more than an imitation of the treatments her foster father
Luomen
used to perform. This was not something she had learned in the dissection exercises with the medical officers.
She had done everything she could. Even Maomao could be of no further use staying by Sparrow's side.
She left it to Ma Liang,
but if anything happened, he would come to get her.
(Ugh, so sleepy, so awful.)
She ended up not sleeping a single wink. It was rough, but knowing there were people having an even rougher time of it, she couldn't bring herself to rest.
Working in that state would only defeat the purpose entirely.
(Sleep! I'm absolutely going to sleep!)
Maomao had been heading for the medical office. She tried to, anyway—but somehow, her feet carried her in the opposite direction.
Why was that?
(It's Suzume's fault.)
For saying something that sounded so much like a final request.
Here she'd been going on about conserving energy being the most important thing.
Maomao was heading toward Jinshi's office.
It was a room she wouldn't normally visit unless someone like Suzume called her there. For some reason, she felt oddly hesitant to knock on the door.
She took a slow breath in, let it out, and knocked.
"..."
No answer.
Maomao tilted her head, wondering if perhaps no one was inside. At the same time, feeling as though she'd been completely let down, she turned to head back to the medical office—
When the door was wrenched open. Startled, Maomao turned around, and there stood—
Jinshi.
He was there.
He looked haggard. Had he pulled another all-nighter, overconfident in his own stamina as usual? How many days had he gone without sleep? To some people, his expression might have looked pensive. But to Maomao, it was nothing more than overwork.
Puffy eyes, dull skin, hair without its usual sheen, and lips chapped dry.
"Just what exactly have you been pulling all-nighters for?"
"I was going to throw those very words right back at you."
Jinshi had been reaching out, as though he wanted to say something. His hand seized Maomao's, pulling her from outside into the office. The momentum was so forceful that she nearly toppled onto the floor, but before she could fall, he pulled her into his arms.
(Ah—)
The two of them lay on the floor, Maomao on top, Jinshi on the bottom. A thick, long-piled carpet covered the ground, but Maomao couldn't help wondering if hitting the floor like that actually didn't hurt.
"…Don't go doing whatever you please."
"I'm terribly sorry."
"Think before you act."
"…This is the result of thinking."
A warm sigh, unmistakably a sigh, fell over Maomao's head.
She couldn't move. She tried to lift her face, but Jinshi's chin seemed to be pressing her head down.
"I brought you here thinking it would be safe, so why does everything always backfire?"
"That's just how the world works. Even if you'd stayed in the Central District, you probably would have run into similar troubles."
"That's true too."
Why were the two of them lying flat on the floor, making small talk?
(Shut the door.)
It would be a problem if someone saw them.
(Stand up quickly.)
How long were they going to stay locked in this embrace?
Honestly, how many days did he think it had been since she'd had a bath? She hadn't even changed properly. Wouldn't it smell, holding a filthy woman covered in sweat and grime?
(And worse, he was sniffing her.)
"Lord Jinshi."
"What is it?"
"Could you let me go soon?"
"You could just push me off yourself."
Maomao grabbed Jinshi's hands. They were heavy, but he didn't seem to be restraining her.
However—
(Sleepy.)
Maomao's mind was growing hazy.
Whether it was the tension finally releasing or something else, her body felt oddly at ease. Was it because the long-pile carpet felt so good? Or was it because the warmth of their pressed-together bodies was just right?
「……Yes, I suppose so.」
Even if she tried to shake free, she couldn't break away.
Maomao's breathing slowly settled into a steady rhythm. Jinshi's breathing gradually fell into step with hers.
Before long, it softened into the sound of sleep, and Maomao drifted into a peaceful slumber — the likes of which she hadn't known for how many days.