Yan Shuixin couldn't help staring at his mangled leg.
From the knee down, Prince An's left leg was already gone. If he lost even more of it... well, just the thought made her stomach turn. She had to save what remained—both for his sake and her own.
So, ignoring his glare, she bent closer to check the wound.
The fury in his single eye was chilling. That cold stare could freeze flesh to bone, and for a moment, she felt like winter had crept into the cell with her.
Any ordinary person would've peed themselves by now.
But she wasn't ordinary.
Yan Shuixin treated him like a particularly troublesome patient and refused to back down.
"I told you to get out. Didn't you hear me?" Prince An growled, his voice razor-sharp with rage.
He had never met someone quite so insufferable.
She met his rage with a smile. "I won't. What are you going to do about it?"
"You—" His fury made him tremble.
Yan Shuixin was certain that if looks could kill, she'd already have more holes than a sieve.
He stared at her for a full thirty seconds, as if trying to bend her will by sheer force of anger.
She didn't budge.
In the end, he gave up and tried to crawl away.
But he was too weak. His face had turned paper-white, and he could barely breathe, let alone move.
With a trembling arm, he tried to push himself off the ground—but collapsed almost immediately.
Yan Shuixin took her chance. She leaned over, but his tattered pant leg wouldn't budge. It was stuck to the festering wound by clotted blood and pus.
She frowned. If she tugged any harder, she might tear open the entire stump.
He didn't even flinch. Either the pain had numbed him—or he was just that used to it.
"You clueless girl," he scoffed, lips curled in a cold sneer.
Her temper flared. "Clueless? Excuse me, I'm highly educated!"
He sneered. A sixteen-year-old girl calling herself 'educated'—how laughable.
Just as he thought she'd give up, her hands suddenly reached for his waistband.
His eye widened.
"You—what the hell are you doing?" he roared, the fury in his voice echoing off the stone walls.
If he weren't half-dead, he'd have snapped her neck by now. But as it stood, he was little more than a broken man, helpless prey.
Yan Shuixin glanced at his trembling form, then smiled wickedly.
"Why do you think I'm taking off your pants?" she drawled. "Obviously..."
She let the words hang, the pause deliberate.
The look in his eye grew darker, colder. She grinned, unafraid. "Obviously, I'm going to take advantage of you."
"You shameless wench!" he spat, veins throbbing at his temples. He tried to lunge for her throat but collapsed before he could even raise a hand.
"Tsk tsk," she said, leaning in mockingly. "Still want to kill me? Too bad. You're stuck down there... at my mercy."
She ran her fingers across the scarred left side of his face.
The skin was tight, rough. Not much flesh at all.
He stiffened like a corpse. His rage boiled over into something wordless and wild.
But deep beneath the anger... was that a flicker of something else?
She wasn't scared of his scars. She didn't flinch from the disfigurement.
Instead, she looked at him and said lightly, "Relax. I'm checking your pulse."
Before he could react, her slender fingers pressed gently against his wrist.
Thank God she'd studied Chinese medicine. Western medicine wouldn't have helped her here.
He jerked his hand away. "Don't touch me!"
She rolled her eyes. "Still got some bite, huh? Looks like you're not dead yet."
"You—" He glared at her like a cornered tiger.
She laughed softly. "You're acting like a feral kitten—growling, but still tiny and cute."
His face darkened.
But at least his cheeks weren't so pale anymore. A hint of color returned.
Good. That was better than lying there like a corpse.
From what she could tell, his biggest problems were the festering wound and... poison.
The toxin wasn't fatal, but it had crippled his internal energy.
In other words—he should be able to fight, but something was blocking his strength.
His blind eye and ruined face were old wounds. Ugly, yes, but not life-threatening.
"The first thing we need to do is save what's left of your leg," she said seriously. "If we don't act soon, you'll be dead."
She sighed, already calculating how to clean him up, where to get supplies, how to treat the infection.
None of that would be easy.
Prince An ignored her, clearly not taking her seriously.
But she was determined.
She pulled at the filthy trousers, peeling them slowly from the blackened stump. The dried blood made a horrible tearing sound as it came away.
More pus oozed out.
She wrinkled her nose but didn't stop.
He still didn't make a sound.
He was so quiet, so proud.
She gave him a thumbs-up. "You're tougher than you look."
On the ground, Prince An clenched his jaw so hard his teeth nearly cracked.
In his mind, she was a sadist. This woman clearly wanted him dead.
Yan Shuixin stood, wiping her hands on the rough fabric of her dress. She walked over to the cell bars and peered out into the corridor beyond.
Stone walls. Iron bars. A locked gate. No knives. No water. No medicine.
Just a wooden bed and a pile of dried weeds in the corner.
Escape was a fantasy.
Then, from down the corridor, a woman's voice screamed:
"Someone help me! Let me out!"
Yan Shuixin pressed her head between the bars to see better.
"Please! I haven't eaten in two days! I'm innocent—I want to go home!"
The voice echoed down the dark, silent hall.
Soon, heavy footsteps approached. A jailer in ancient garb strode into view, whip in hand.
"Li Donghong, what the hell are you yelling for?" he barked, opening the cell.
CRACK.
The first lash hit hard. The woman's scream tore through the dungeon.
Before it faded, more lashes followed.
"Please, sir! I'm just hungry! I'm sorry—please, I won't scream again!"
"Shut up! You're wasting food just by breathing!"
CRACK. CRACK.
Another prisoner's voice tried to plead with him, but the whip turned on her too.
Yan Shuixin winced. The sound of leather tearing into flesh was sickening.
The book hadn't lied—this prison really did eat people alive.
She stayed quiet. She wasn't stupid.
No point dying early trying to save someone else.