'Doctor Baizhu…' The whispery, girlish voice of his zombie assistant sounded from behind a tree, and her face soon followed. 'Someone's hurt…'

Baizhu glanced up from the patch of jueyun chilli, which he'd been scouring for bruising and bug bites. Several of them already sat in a wicker basket; Changsheng's body was twined around the handle, her face deep in the muddle of medicinal herbs and cooking ingredients.

'Show me,' he instructed, straightening up and dusting what he could of the spicy reddish residue from his hands. They didn't have far to go – Qiqi rounded a corner to the ruins of a little house. A beam had fallen across the door, and she stooped under it, continuing inside. Someone within seemed to grumble at her, though the doctor couldn't hear quite who.

…It would be a tight squeeze. Huffing slightly, Baizhu slid to his hands and knees, placing the basket down.

'Changsheng, will you guard the produce? Perhaps guide Qiqi to the next stop to gather violetgrass?'

'Why is it always my job to babysit your child?'

'You are both very capable and very portable, both valuable when it comes to our forgetful little darling.'

'You owe me, Baizhu.'

The exchange complete, the jade-haired doctor began the slow, steady process of shuffling into the small space, feeling rather claustrophobic as he did so. Mercifully, there was space to stand, the heavy wooden structure wedged in a way which held much of the ruin intact.

'Doctor Baizhu…' Qiqi called to him once more even as he straightened; he patted her atop her head.

'I'm here. Take Changsheng and finish collecting. I'll tend to our patient.'

The patient in question was pale and sweating, his sleeveless white shirt soaked through, patches of skin tone clearly visible. His breathing was shallow and uneven. A spear was still clutched tight in one hand, while the other rested atop a dark mask on his lap.

'What ills befell you today, Conqueror of Demons?' Resignation coloured the doctor's voice as he knelt before the young man, lightly touching beneath his chin and guiding his face upwards. The golden eyes were wild, and the shadow around them smudged. No answer was forthcoming; he didn't even move. Carefully, Baizhu inched his patient forwards, intent on checking the spine for possible signs of trauma which might prevent movement or communication.

Something dark and incorporeal wisped from a point in the centre of his back. Frowning, the doctor slowly turned Xiao's body, giving himself an unobstructed view. Gingerly, he lifted the sweat-sodden shirt. No physical marks accompanied the odd energy, but when he placed his hand atop the point of origin, the man was bitterly cold. A wide circle of flesh, cold as fresh-fallen snow.

'Ah…'

He had seen this only once before; the adeptus had suffered a shock during a moment of karmic weakness.

'Xiao.' The name oozed languidly from between his lips, the gentle call of a friend, not an enemy. The Yaksha remained still, though the eyes fluttered insensibly, as though he was trying to awaken from a dream.

Baizhu swiftly repositioned, seating himself behind Xiao. He wrapped his arms securely around the slighter man's waist, drawing him in close. His legs settled to either side of Xiao's and he guided the man's head to a rest against his shoulder. He freed one hand and combed softly through sweat-slicked hair, smoothing the bangs back from the Yaksha's face.

'Xiao, it's all right now. You're safe here. You won.' He pressed his lips to a pale cheek, his care gentle and tender. 'The danger has passed. Come back.' The barest hint of a groan slid between pale, cracked lips. Baizhu traced their outline with a single, fond finger.

'You're dehydrated,' he remarked, rerouting to his pockets, fumbling with a bottle of water. 'Here, drink. Carefully does it.' He raised the bottle to Xiao's lips and tilted, just a little. Water trickled slowly but steadily down the hoarse throat, refreshing the vocal cords and reinvigorating the man.

'Baizhu…'

'Shhh. It's okay. Just focus on how you're doing. What do you feel?'

'Cold. Like I've been stabbed in the back.'

'And were you stabbed in the back?' There hadn't been any blood that he could see, but he knew that there were creatures the Conqueror of Demons fought, creatures which were neither seen nor heard by humans.

'No. Something… whispered to me. They knew my past. The things I have done. The battles I fought. The people I killed under the thumb of that damned deity.' His voice shook, and trembling wracked his body as he spoke. A sickening vulnerability and weakness, something not fitting for Yakshas. The hand grasping at his mask shot upwards, about to fit it to his face, to hide his tortured expression.

'Please, don't. Hiding from it won't help, you know that.' The doctor sighed and returned both arms to their places around Xiao's waist. 'We've talked about this before. Let me in. Let me help you.'

'Just…' Xiao's voice cracked, and he turned his face sideways, burying his face against the doctor. 'Just hold me, will you?'

'Of course. Anything you need.'

A companionable silence washed in as Baizhu cradled the Conqueror of Demons, the pooling heat between their bodies gradually easing away the icy trauma. Hands slowly smoothed up and down his arms, pausing occasionally to trace the elegant shapes of the green tattoo on his right arm. The world seemed to fade, time to slow, and the tension in Xiao's body began to slacken. Baizhu's hand traced past the wrist and his fingers slowly interlaced with Xiao's.

'If I can find the answer to immortality, I can find the answer to your karma,' the doctor finally murmured, his lips close to the Yaksha's ear. 'I'll get there eventually, and we'll both be free. I just need you to keep holding on. Just a little longer. Please.'

'…I'll try.'