By morning, General Xun’s pulse had stabilized. Qinghe examined him beneath the canvas shade, comparing his breathing with the notes from the night before. His hands were steadier, though his skin had changed and his face looked decades older.
“The Mandate left him weak,” she said. “The bruising from Yan’s fight is separate. The breathing trouble is improving, but we’ll keep the wrap for another day.”
Yan looked at the lines around Xun’s eyes. “Could Returning Spring improve his condition further?”
“It may help his living body. It won’t return the years the technique already spent.”
Xun was awake enough to hear them. “Use it anyway. I want to breathe clearly before I answer the inquiry.”
Qinghe agreed and positioned his shoulders. Yan sat beside the cot and placed his hands where she guided him. He knew the art well. The full movement passed through him without hesitation, and the effect reached Xun’s damaged vitality while the personal draw reversed into more years and vigor for Yan.
He felt the gain settle into his body as Xun’s breathing eased. The general’s pulse grew stronger beneath Qinghe’s fingers. She kept one hand on his wrist and the other near the breathing wrap.
