Be Gentle, Immortal Master

Chapter 191 - How Would You Like It?

Chapter 191 – How Would You Like It?

The next two hours were excruciating. My heart ached at what he had to endure, and I wished more than ever that I could be the one doing this on his behalf. But I couldn't, and I couldn't even show any of my worries. The only thing I could do was to keep talking softly, reminiscing over my brightest and funniest memories that I never shared with him, and I hoped that the mood could at least help the time pass a little faster for him.

My eyes were almost glued to the clock the entire time. But the more I stared at it, the slower it seemed to move, and I wondered more than once if the clock might have broken. When the pointer finally crawled to the end of the third hour, I all but jumped out of my seat, and I rushed so much to help him dry off that I almost splashed the poisonous water all over myself.

He smiled at my obvious haste. "Told you I'd be fine."

"I knew you would be," I replied, letting myself smile as well and ignore the fact that he looked like he might faint any moment. At least it was all over now.

Deciding that getting him back into his clothes would be too burdensome given his weakened state, I bundled him up in towels instead and led him carefully out of the bath chamber. The closest room to us was mine, which I had already cleaned and warmed up with a low fire ahead of time. Supporting his swaying body, I guided him into the bed and tucked him under a thick layer of blankets.

The night passed excruciatingly slowly as well. I lay next to him, but I didn't dare sleep at all, as I knew that the effect of the bath was still working its way through him gradually. I checked every half an hour if he had a fever, or if his spiritual power fluctuated abnormally, and when the morning light started glowing through the window, I was finally relieved that his condition remained stable. Exhaustion hit me at last, and I dozed off.

I slept lightly though, and it wasn't long before I woke up from him turning in bed. "Bai Ye?" I ventured nervously. This was a bit late for still feeling the discomfort from the bath. "Are you—"

He turned towards me, and he opened his eyes.

All sounds froze in my throat the moment I stared into his pupils. The white haze that covered them for the past month had disappeared, leaving only a twinkle of light glimmering from the depth of that familiar darkness. He was smiling, not only with the curl of his lips but also with his eyes, as I saw that unmistakable delight and peace in his unwavering gaze, along with endless love.

Was this really happening? Or had I dreamed of it so much lately that I started confusing it with reality? Almost hesitantly, I touched his cheeks, and when the warmth beneath my fingertips told me that this wasn't a dream, my own vision blurred. "This is real," I whispered, though I didn't know if I was telling it to him or to myself. "This is real … It worked … You've recovered …"

"Yes," he said softly, his smile even more bright and tender. "It is real, Qing-er. You saved me. I'm sorry I—"

I didn't let him finish before I wrapped my arms around him and started crying out loud.

I wasn't sure why I was crying at all. This was a moment that deserved celebration, and I should be smiling, laughing, saying words full of comfort and cheerfulness—at last, all the pain that he had to endure wasn't in vain; at last, I didn't disappoint him, and he didn't disappoint me. But I couldn't help it, and I couldn't help the words coming out of me either. "You'd better be sorry!" I cried as I pounded a fist on his back, though at least I remembered not to hit him with too much force. "Do you know how much you scared me? Do you know how hard you made everything for me and for yourself? Do you know how close you were to making sure that today could never happen?"

He held me tighter. "I'm sorry …" he repeated. But I only cried harder at his apology, as if the tears I had been holding for the past months finally found their chance to pour out all at once. I clenched his shoulders, and it wasn't until I felt his skin soaking wet from my weeping that I reluctantly released him, worried that I might make him catch a cold.

"I'm sorry," he said again, brushing his thumb over the tear tracks along my cheeks. "I know how much burden I've brought you … and how much pain … I promised not to make you weep for me, and yet I've broken that promise over and over again. I'm sorry …"

Realizing that my tears were still falling so fast that he couldn't possibly brush them dry, I lifted my arm embarrassedly, wiping my face off with my sleeve and forcing myself to calm down. It had been almost three months since we had a chance to look into each other's eyes. I didn't want his first sight of me to be an ugly one covered in tear tracks, and I didn't want my first sight of his recovery to be blocked by a veil of water either.

"Bai Ye," I said, my voice still choppy with sobs. "I expect you to make it up to me."

He smiled. For the first time in years, that loving gaze in his eyes was no longer filled with a wistful sorrow that I couldn't understand. It was gleaming brightly instead, full of hope. "Of course I will make it up to you," he breathed. "How would you like it done?"

Before I got a chance to fully process his words, he tumbled us over, pressing me into the pillow, and kissed me.