Yu Jin Chang An - Chapter 8
Li Shuang thrashed beneath the old woman’s crushing grip, but it was like struggling against iron chains—unyielding, suffocating, impossible to break.
The soldiers surged forward in alarm. Luo Teng swung his massive blade in a deadly arc toward the woman’s neck. The strike landed with a sharp crack—yet instead of slicing through, the sword only chipped uselessly against her flesh.
“Her heart…” Li Shuang rasped, her voice strangled.
Qin Lan understood instantly. He drove his sword toward the woman’s back, aiming for her heart. The steel sank against her body—yet failed to pierce through. The woman twisted her head, her eyes void-black, whites consumed by shadow. An inhuman shriek tore from her throat as she flung her arm wide. A blast of dark wind erupted, hurling soldiers aside like leaves in a storm.
Li Shuang’s face had turned purple. Consciousness ebbed away.
And then—
A wet thud.
The old woman’s body stiffened. Her claw-like hands loosened around Li Shuang’s neck. Her eyes went wide, frozen in a grotesque mask of unwilling defeat, before her body toppled lifelessly to the ground.
Through her fading vision, Li Shuang saw a small figure beside her.
But not the gentle child she knew. His eyes glowed a hellish crimson, his face etched with flame-like markings that pulsed with killing intent. In his blood-soaked hand, he clutched a decayed heart. He squeezed. The organ burst, spraying foul blood across his own face and Li Shuang’s, the stench sharp and vile. The shock cleared the fog from her mind.
Jin’an tossed the shredded mass aside, expression blank, as though discarding nothing more than garbage.
Li Shuang coughed violently, dragging air into her burning lungs. Her throat screamed with pain. Somehow, she managed to croak his name. “...Jin’an?”
His head turned toward her. Seeing she still breathed, the crimson faded from his eyes. The markings dissolved. The suffocating aura of violence retreated until only the boy remained. Calmly, he shook the blood from his hand. Failing that, he used his other to wipe the splatters from Li Shuang’s cheek—so casual, so composed, it was as if he had swatted a fly rather than slain a monster impervious to steel.
“It’s over,” Jin’an said flatly. “She won’t rise again.”
The battlefield fell into stunned silence.
Jin’an’s gaze lingered on the purple bruises around Li Shuang’s throat. His fingers twitched, wanting to touch, to soothe—but hesitated. Instead, his eyes flickered with rare unease.
“You’re hurt.”
But when he looked up, every soldier’s eyes were fixed on him—wariness and dread mingled in their faces. Luo Teng, Qin Lan, even Li Ting, who had slipped in unnoticed, all stared at him as though he were…
Another monster.
Li Shuang, catching her breath, saw the way his shoulders slumped under their fear. Saw how he lowered his head, silently accepting their judgment, as though punishment was inevitable.
Her hand lifted, trembling but steady enough to press a cloth to his face. She wiped away the splatters of dark blood. Her voice, broken but resolute, carried authority: “Medical officer.”
Two simple words shattered the suffocating silence. The soldiers snapped back into motion. Physicians rushed forward, tending to her bruised throat and to Jin’an’s scratches in equal measure.
And still, Jin’an sat apart, silent, watching her from across the tent.
The physician finished his examination and offered his counsel: soft foods, quiet days, careful rest. A month to heal fully.
Jin’an memorized every word, lips pressed tight. Later, he would ask about colds, about porridge, about anything that might help. He would not forget.
When the others spoke of the woman’s body—already rotting, long dead, yet moving—when Qin Lan muttered the word jiangshi, Li Ting paled and Luo Teng cursed under his breath, Jin’an sat silent. The questions came his way but he gave no answer.
Monster. Demon. Jiangshi.
He had heard it all before.
When the others left, Li Shuang beckoned him closer. Her voice was hoarse, but her tone soft: “Wait.”
Jin’an halted at her side. His gaze fixed on the bandages around her throat, a flicker of sorrow in his eyes. “Does it hurt?” he whispered—and then, quickly, “Don’t answer.”
She chuckled faintly, even in pain. “I know my limits.”
After a long silence, she asked what no one else had dared. “You…”
“I’ll tell you everything,” he cut her off. “Though there isn’t much to tell. I only remember running out of the forest, collapsing, and then you found me. That’s all.” His voice trembled, betraying the emptiness of his own knowledge.
Li Shuang’s heart ached. Beneath all his power, all his terrifying strength, he was still only a lost child.
She reached up, fingertips brushing the herbs on his cheek. “Does it hurt?”
Jin’an blinked, startled. “...No.”
“Good.”
Her smile was faint but warm. “When I was young, my strength frightened people too. But my father told me—whether a sword kills or protects depends not on what others say, but on the heart of the one who wields it.” Her broken voice softened even further. “Today, Jin’an, you saved me. Remember that.”
Heat surged across his face. He lowered his head quickly, ashamed of the sudden warmth in his chest.
Li Shuang laughed softly, amused by his fluster. She lifted the blanket. “Would you like to sleep here, beside me?”
His eyes widened. “May I?”
She patted the space at her side. “Sleep. You’ve done enough today.”
Jin’an slipped under the covers without hesitation. Curled against her, the exhaustion of battle finally weighed on him. She stroked his hair, whispering, “Rest.”
The sun dipped low, shadows lengthened.
By nightfall, the surge of power within him roared again. His body grew, shifting into the form of a man. And in an instant, Li Shuang was no longer cradling a child—she was cradled in the arms of someone far stronger.
She stirred faintly but did not wake, only nestled closer against him.
Jin’an gazed at her sleeping face, fingers ghosting over the bandage on her throat. If he had borne this form earlier, he thought, she would never have been harmed at all.
Leaning close, he pressed a tender kiss to her brow. Only then did he close his eyes, holding her as though the act itself might keep her safe until morning.