Transmigrating into the Prince Regent’s Beloved Runaway Wife - Chapter 89.1

The shadows in front of him swayed from one to three and then to one, and the leaves, wind, and rain all seemed to vibrate.

Meng Huan’s knees went weak, and he fell to the ground. His hair immediately hung down, and the blood from his knees dripped with the water, wetting the nearby puddles.

Zhu Dong’s voice was filled with grief. “Brother Chen! Brother! Why are you so determined? You–”

His voice choked as if he couldn’t say any more words. After the ecstasy and excitement, he realized that Meng Huan was physically weak.

He carried Meng Huan’s arm on his shoulder and helped drag him down the mountain through the muddy water, wiping his tears as he walked. “Brother, I have a whole new level of respect for you. You’re amazing, a dragon among men! Compared to me, I am a waste!”

“What are you talking about?” Meng Huan patted him on the shoulder. “Having you also gives me more courage.”

Zhu Dong was a young master from a comfortable family, not a wealthy one, but he grew up with his parents spoiling him. When did he ever suffer the ravages of such a storm along the way? He looked at Meng Huan’s torn knees and cried as he walked, but then laughed maniacally as he cried, “Aiya, damn! I’ve never saved so many people in my life!”

He knew he could be helpful but didn’t think it would be this useful.

Making it impossible for them to do bad things.

Good! So good!

Meng Huan was exhausted and had no strength left but still smiled with white, fine teeth. “Write to Lin Bozhou when we return to the city.”

The two walked while supporting each other. It was raining heavily on the mountain, and when they looked up from the foot of the mountain, the piling black clouds on the city gate tower seemed to be blown away by the wind. In the evening, a few pieces of skylight escaped from the clouds and fell into Meng Huan’s raised eyes.

Illuminating his pale chin, his eyes were lax but re-focused and still bright.

Although wretched and weak, Meng Huan’s face was still handsome, emphasized by his pale and fragile appearance, and his eyes were calm and resilient.

Zhu Dong called an old grandfather pulling an ox cart. “Grandpa, I am begging you. Please take us to the government residence. My brother can’t walk anymore…… please……”

The old man looked over and said, “Come up.”

Meng Huan’s legs were sore and weak, and his shoulders slackened when he sat on the ox cart. His knees were heavy, and all his strength seemed drained away. His elbows hurt from being rubbed against the hard boards, his nose smelled the grass on the ox cart, and his consciousness gradually blurred with the swaying.

He felt he couldn’t hold on anymore.

Meng Huan grabbed Zhu Dong’s arm and said, “Write a letter.”

Zhu Dong wailed and cried, “Brother, you hold on! Brother! Brother!”

“……”

The scene was weird, and Meng Huan reluctantly looked at him. “I’m just tired……”

After saying that, it felt like the task was completed, and he closed his eyelids in great exhaustion.

Covered in the sticky wetness of rainwater, his sleep was restless, and he occasionally heard Zhu Dong urging the peasant. “Grandpa, can you hurry up a little? He can’t hold on any longer.”

They arrived outside the government residence. “Someone! Call the doctor!”

Meng Huan was carried in, his philtrum was pinched, and fishy bitter medicine was poured into his mouth. The strong bitter taste stimulated his nerves and caused his brain to jump fiercely.

“…………”

Barely pulling back together his consciousness, he changed the wet clothes on his body into dry ones and lay back down in his bed.

–He could finally sleep.

Perhaps it was because he had been soaked in the rain, ran for too long in the mountains with the fierce wind, and also fallen on his head in the rocks; Meng Huan’s body began to heat up, launching an unstoppable fever, and the abraded skin from his arms to his fingertips burned like fire.

Meng Huan had many dreams.

Dream of Lin Bozhou coming.

Dream of winning the war.

Dream of all the dead bodies and blood rain, the ground full of dead horses and the remains of soldiers, and blood-stained city buildings. It turned into bright lanterns in the treetops, and under the moonlight, Lin Bozhou’s scarlet mangpao robe was blown up by the night wind. The corners of his lips were slightly curved, waiting for him to look at the fireworks in the distance together.

He opened his lips, and the bottom of his eyes was gentle. “You’ve worked hard.”

……

Meng Huan’s fingers moved a little. He realized he was slightly thirsty with the tingling pain and the dryness of his lips.

Surprisingly, he had been sleeping for three days.

“My head hurts……” Meng Huan muttered, climbing up with difficulty. “How can I sleep for so long? Does this still count as human sleep?”

These three days, he barely ate and occasionally woke up to drink medicine. The meal was put aside without appetite, and when he was in the mood, he picked up two bites. The meal was cold, and he went back to sleep after eating two bites.

When he stood up, his legs bent and swayed. Nobody was inside or outside the room, and it seemed to be late evening. This part of the government residence was quiet, and the dim light fell through the window casket into the room.

Waking up to find it was evening, his mood seemed to be a little gray and lost. Meng Huan held a cup of tea and wandered off to look at the window for a while.

His spirit was much better, but his movements were still slightly sluggish. A sense of hunger rose in his belly, and generally speaking, as long as a person still knew that he was hungry and wanted to eat, there was nothing seriously wrong with his body.

Meng Huan found the cold meal on the table, looked for boiling water, and poured it in, digging in a few bites.

Rice.

White, fluffy rice.

Fragrant and sweet.

Meng Huan felt he was going crazy with hunger; it burned as fierce as a wicked fire in his stomach. In the old days, his appetite for food swelled when he browsed through gourmet food videos at midnight.

He diligently dug into his food when the sound of walking came from outside the door.

Meng Huan thought it was the physician, and his chopsticks paused slightly before he continued to chuck a chopstick of rice into his mouth without stopping the eating action.

Until the sound of footsteps stopped at the door.

There was a short silence.

“Who is it?”

Meng Huan held the bowl, looked sideways, and saw a slender, dark figure.

On the bluestone slab at the bottom of the hanging eaves, Lin Bozhou’s silver-white flying fish robe penetrated through the night. One hand was pressed on the long knife at his side, and the lapel and cuffs were stained with blood spots. His narrow eyes looked at Meng Huan as if they were holding ice, and the corners of his lips were pursed into a thin line.

Seeing the man, Meng Huan subconsciously pushed the rice bowl to the back.

Want to read more chapters and support us? Please consider becoming a patron to read up to 24 chapters in advance!