CHAPTER 280: CHAPTER 280: IF YOUR BODY DIES THERE’S NO RESET

Not because he was owed the honor.

But because he was part of the deception that stole their friend, and it was only right that he remain buried under the truth.

They fashioned a marker from old steel and a broken sword handle. Rong stood over it as the last of the dirt was shoveled in.

Rong cleared his throat, but his first attempt at words broke apart.

He wiped his eyes with the back of a dusty sleeve, drew a steadying breath, and tried again.

"Wei Sheng was never the loudest," he began, voice low but carrying in the still wood. "He never pushed to stand in front. He just... took the hard jobs, the night watches, the last ration when everyone else had eaten. He acted like it was nothing. We all let him do it because it was easy to lean on someone that solid."

He rested a hand on the fresh mound of earth.

"Out here, you measure a person by how much heavier or lighter they make the day feel. Wei Sheng made every day lighter. He did it twice over, once as himself and, Heaven forgive us, once as a puppet he never chose to be. If that isn’t sacrifice, I don’t know what is."

A faint wind slipped between the skeletal trees, tugging at the steel marker.

"So I won’t promise vengeance, and I won’t pretend he’s still watching us. But I’ll swear this: as long as any of us moves forward, we carry the weight he lifted for us. That means laughing when the panic claws at us, sharing water even when we’re scared there’s none left, and choosing kindness when cruelty looks easier."

Rong drew in a shaky breath. "That’s how he stays with us. Not because we chant his name, but because we do for others what he always did for us."

He stepped back. There was no applause, only a rough chorus of sniffles and the creak of gear as heads bowed in silent agreement.

Someone pressed a wildflower one of the few that still grew into the loose soil. Another laid a dented metal dog tag beside it. Small tributes in a world short on beauty.

When the last person had stepped away, Qingran pressed her palm against the marker. The metal was cool, her fingers still warm from the lingering flame.

Quietly, so only the dirt could hear, she whispered, "Rest easy, Wei Sheng. We’ll handle the rest."

Qingran sat shirtless from the waist up on the infirmary cot, the dull lighting casting shadows along the massive purple bruise blooming across her side.

Her breathing was shallow but steady, and though she looked calm, sweat clung to her hairline and the burn across her ribs gleamed raw under the medicated gel.

Dr. Ren adjusted the lamp and leaned closer with a frown. "You’ve got clear bruising over the ninth and tenth ribs. Possible hairline fractures. You’re lucky the skin didn’t break fully from the burn."

Qingran clicked her tongue. "So it’s not that bad."

Dr. Ren straightened slowly and gave her a dry look. "I didn’t say that."

He picked up the digital scanner again and passed it over her side with careful precision. "Two of your ribs are compromised. You’ve got inflamed intercostal muscles and thermal damage along the lateral thorax. No internal bleeding, thank god, but if you push your body again in this state, it won’t be bruises you’re dealing with. You’ll collapse a lung."

Ruihuang stood nearby with his arms crossed, his brows furrowed. Meng Nian sat slouched in the chair across from her, silent.

Neither of them spoke.

They didn’t need to. They had seen what she’d done.

The silence in the room thickened until Lingquan’s voice exploded into her head.

[You idiot!]

Qingran blinked once, pretending not to hear him.

[Don’t you dare ignore me, Qingran. Don’t you dare. You think this is something you can just wave off like a scratch? You think your body’s made of steel? You cracked two ribs in that domain!]

She inhaled quietly. Her chest ached.

"Lingquan, I’m fine.."

[You’re not fine! You lie like it’s a reflex! Look at you, sitting here like the walking dead, ribs fractured, skin scorched, and what? Still joking with the doctor?]

Her jaw clenched.

Lingquan’s voice dropped low, but it shook with restrained fury.

[You think because you won, the damage doesn’t count. You think because you’re still standing, it’s nothing. But your body’s not a system function, Qingran. It’s just flesh. If it breaks, there’s no reset.]

Dr. Ren, unaware of the internal war, pressed a fresh gauze to her ribs. "Hold this. You’re going to need a full wrap and enforced rest. No physical strain for at least ten days. That includes stairs, sparring, and god forbid another duel.."

Qingran obeyed silently, pressing the gauze where he indicated.

Meng Nian finally spoke, voice low. "You did what no one else could have. But... next time, just remember you’re still human."

"I know that.." she muttered.

"You say that.." Ruihuang said from the corner "but your ribs clearly disagree."

She cracked a small smile, but her hand twitched when she tried to shift. Pain flared under her palm.

Lingquan didn’t soften.

[You scare me, Qingran. You actually scare me sometimes. Because I know you’d rather die than lose. And I don’t know if you’ll stop before you do.]

She just sat there, letting the silence fold around her as Dr. Ren moved efficiently, wrapping her side with firm, steady hands and taping down the dressing.

When he finished, he tapped the edge of the cot. "Lie back. No more excuses. You’re not moving for the rest of the night."

She lay down slowly, hissing through her teeth as her ribs protested the motion.

"Good.." Dr. Ren said. "Keep your breathing shallow and controlled. I’ll monitor vitals every few hours. If the inflammation doesn’t drop by morning, we’ll start an anti-inflammatory IV. But you need to stop trying to play hero. The war doesn’t care if you fall, but the people here do."

He stepped away, peeling off his gloves.

The door clicked as he left them in the low light of the med room.

Qingran stared up at the ceiling.

"...Sorry.." she whispered, not sure if it was for Lingquan, Meng Nian, Ruihuang, or all of them.