Chapter 996: Carrying You

"Sure enough, you're here!" the burly man snarled, raising his steel saber, "This time let's see where you run!"

Han Wuxian shielded Yan Xirou behind him and whispered, "Back door, hurry!"

"Don't even think about it!" a black-clad attacker lunged from the side, his long sword thrusting straight at Yan Xirou's heart. Han Wuxian flickered aside, grabbed the blade barehanded, and blood instantly welled from between his fingers. He jerked hard, taking advantage of the man's imbalance to kick him flying.

Yan Xirou wasn't idle either; despite her movements slowed by pain, she accurately flung three silver needles, and two black-clad men collapsed at once.

"Go!" Han Wuxian grabbed Yan Xirou's wrist and rushed toward the back door.

The bearded burly man roared, his steel saber flying from his hand, spinning as it slashed at the two. Han Wuxian shoved Yan Xirou aside, but the saber's back struck his own back heavily; he grunted and fell to his knees.

"Han Wuxian!" Yan Xirou exclaimed, turning back to support him.

"It's fine..." Han Wuxian gritted his teeth and stood up, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, "Keep going!"

The two stumbled out the back door; outside lay a steep slope. The pursuers' footsteps drew nearer, Han Wuxian glanced at the terrain, then suddenly hoisted Yan Xirou into a horizontal carry.

"Hold on tight." He said low, and without waiting for her reply he leapt down the slope.

In the whirl, Yan Xirou only felt Han Wuxian's arms like iron hoops firmly protecting her, her body continually bumping against his chest. Branches and stones scraped her clothes and skin, but Han Wuxian kept her securely shielded.

After who knows how long of rolling, they finally stopped at a gentle riverside. Han Wuxian lay on his back, his chest heaving violently, his face covered in abrasions.

Yan Xirou struggled to prop herself up, her hands trembling as she checked his injuries: "You... you madman!"

Han Wuxian laughed, raising a hand to wipe the moisture on her cheek—whether blood or tears he couldn't tell—"I said... I won't abandon you."

Under the moonlight, Yan Xirou noticed his eyes shining astonishingly, filled with an emotion she couldn't read. Her heartbeat suddenly skipped a rhythm, and for a moment she forgot they were in danger.

From afar came the pursuers' shouts; Han Wuxian forced himself to sit up: "We can't stop yet; they'll find us soon."

Yan Xirou pressed a hand to his shoulder: "This time I'll help you." Without waiting for his consent she hoisted his arm, "The stream will cover our tracks; let's go downstream."

Han Wuxian was surprised by her sudden burst of strength, but quickly matched her pace. The two trudged along the stream, their soaked clothes clinging to their bodies, the night wind biting cold.

"Hang on," Yan Xirou panted, "I remember there's a fishing village downstream..."

Han Wuxian turned his head to look at her, seeing her lower lip bitten until it bled, yet she stubbornly bore their weight. A warm surge rose in his chest, and he whispered softly, "Miss Yan, actually I...."

"Shut up, conserve your strength." Yan Xirou cut him off, but her grip tightened.

The stream murmured, as if masking their presence. Moonlight stretched their shadows long and intertwined, making it impossible to tell them apart.

The stream was icy and bone‑chilling; Han Wuxian and Yan Xirou supported each other as they staggered along. Yan Xirou's fingertips had turned white from the cold, yet she clung tightly to his wrist, fearing he might collapse.

"What were you about to say just now?" she asked, breathless.

Han Wuxian turned his head to look at her; under the moonlight her lashes were wet with droplets, her cheeks flushed from the cold wind. He gave a low chuckle: "Nothing, just that... you're even more stubborn than I imagined."

Yan Xirou gave a soft hum: "Only now you realize?"

"I've known for a long time." Han Wuxian's voice was low, tinged with a helpless smile.

Yan Xirou's mouth twitched up slightly, but a sudden sharp pain jerked her back to reality. Her soul still ached faintly, each step feeling like stepping on a blade's edge. Han Wuxian sensed her stiffness, tightened his arm, and let her lean more securely.

"Hold on a bit longer," he said softly, "the fishing village should be just ahead; maybe they won't search the mortal realm."

Han Wuxian comforted Yan Xirou, but he knew it was unlikely, after all they both bore injuries.

In the distance, a few faint lights flickered in the night. They quickened their pace, finally stumbling to the village entrance. The fishing village was tiny, only a dozen or so households; at this hour most were asleep, only a small tavern still lit.

Han Wuxian supported Yan Xirou as they pushed the door open; warmth and the scent of wine washed over them.

The tavern keeper behind the counter glanced up, saw the two drenched and covered in wounds, furrowed her brow: "What happened to you two..."

"We ran into mountain bandits," Han Wuxian lied, pulling a few copper coins from his bosom: "Landlady, could we borrow a room for the night?"

The landlady sized them up, then sighed: "The innermost room upstairs; hot water and clean clothes will be brought later."

"Thank you."

The room was small, but at least it offered shelter. Han Wuxian helped Yan Xirou sit down, then leaned against the door, alert to outside noises. The landlady soon brought hot water and coarse‑cloth garments; Yan Xirou barely dried the water on her skin, changed clothes, and then collapsed onto the bed, nearly limp.

Han Wuxian approached, reached out to feel her forehead: "You're running a fever."

"It's fine..." Yan Xirou closed her eyes, voice weak, "You should rest too."

Han Wuxian didn't move, merely watched her silently. Her complexion was pallid to the point of near transparency, her hair spread across the pillow like a shattered ink painting.

He reached out, gently brushed aside her bangs, and whispered low: "You're always like this—obviously you can't hold on, yet you insist on being strong."

Yan Xirou opened her eyes, locking gazes with him. Only an inch separated them, their breaths intertwined, the air seeming to freeze.

"Han Wuxian," she asked softly, "why exactly have you been following me all this time?"

Han Wuxian fell silent for a moment, then sighed: "Because... I'm afraid you'll go too far on your own, and when you look back you'll find no one waiting for you."

Yan Xirou's pupils narrowed slightly.

Those words were like a blunt knife, slowly and deeply piercing her heart. She had lived so many years, always alone, never imagining someone would care whether she turned back.

She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly heard a clamor downstairs—someone had kicked the tavern door open.

"Search! They're definitely in here!" came the voice of the bearded burly man.

Han Wuxian's eyes narrowed; he sprang up at once: "They've come after us."

Yan Xirou forced herself to sit up, fingers clutching the blanket: "You go first; I'll hold them off."

"Impossible." Han Wuxian flatly refused, grabbing her and pulling her up: "We'll go out the window."

Footsteps approached downstairs; Han Wuxian shoved the window open—outside lay the village rooftops. He turned to Yan Xirou: "Can you jump?"

Yan Xirou gritted her teeth and nodded: "I can."

They clambered out the window, stepping on tiles to leap onto the neighboring roof. However, Yan Xirou's strength finally gave out; she missed a step and began to fall.

"Xirou!" Han Wuxian lunged, snatching her wrist with one hand while the other gripped the eave like a vise. Yan Xirou hung in midair, looking up at his strained, tensed arm; blood seeped from his wound and trailed down her wrist.

"Let go!" she snarled, "You'll be dragged down with me!"

"Shut up!" Han Wuxian gritted his teeth, his arm muscles bulging, and heaved her up bodily. They tumbled onto the roof, panting as they locked eyes.

Yan Xirou's chest heaved violently, she stared him down: "Are you crazy?"

Han Wuxian laughed: "Yeah, I'm crazy."

Downstairs, the pursuers had spotted their trail, roaring as they charged out. Han Wuxian hauled Yan Xirou up: "Go!"

The two leapt between rooftops, finally jumping into a narrow alley. The fishing village's alleys were a tangled maze; using the cover of night, they finally shook off their pursuers and hid in an abandoned fisherman's warehouse.

The warehouse was piled with fishing nets and wooden crates, the damp air reeking of fish. Yan Xirou slid to sit against a crate, breathing hard. Han Wuxian sat beside her, tore a strip from his clothing, and simply bandaged the wound on his hand.

After a moment of silence, Yan Xirou spoke: "Just now… why didn't you let go?"

Han Wuxian turned his head to look at her; moonlight leaked through the broken window gap and fell on her cheek. He reached out, gently wiping the wet traces on her face that hadn't dried yet, and said in a low voice, "Because I said I wouldn't abandon you."

Yan Xirou's fingertips trembled slightly.

In her life, she had never been chosen so resolutely by anyone.

"Han Wuxian," she asked softly, "If one day… I truly can't walk anymore, what will you do?"

Han Wuxian looked at her, then suddenly laughed: "Then I'll carry you on my back."

Yan Xirou blinked, and a drop of water slid from the corner of her eye—whether it was still‑wet stream water or something else, she didn't know.

"Idiot," she murmured.

Han Wuxian reached out and pulled her into his embrace. Yan Xirou did not resist, resting her forehead against his shoulder, listening to his steady heartbeat.

"Get some rest," he said softly, "I'll keep watch over you."

Yan Xirou closed her eyes, finally allowing herself to briefly let down her guard.

Moonlight spilled over the two of them, casting overlapping shadows.

In the distance, the reeds swayed in the night wind, rustling softly as if telling a story unknown to anyone.