Chapter 11: The Inconvenience of Very Large Patient

  By the time Khun Ming reached the cottage, his arms had begun negotiating with gravity in ways he did not appreciate.

  The tiger had not grown heavier.

  But it had also not grown lighter.

  "Next time," he muttered under his breath, "I will ask the lightning to strike closer to the house."

  The dog trotted beside him, tail gently swaying as if escorting an entirely normal situation.

  Which it was not.

  Carrying a tiger through a forest would be unusual under most circumstances. Carrying a tiger that had recently been struck by lightning while discussing dye production schedules was even less common.

  Khun Ming finally stepped through the gate of the small courtyard.

  He exhaled.

  "Home."

  The dog walked ahead and inspected the ground like a supervisor checking a construction site.

  Khun Ming carefully stepped inside and lowered the tiger onto the courtyard floor.

  Slowly.

  Very slowly.

  The moment the tiger's body touched the ground, Khun Ming sat down beside it and rolled his shoulders.

  "…You weigh like wet timber."

  The tiger did not respond.

  It was breathing.

  Barely.

  Its chest rose unevenly.

  Khun Ming leaned closer and examined the burn marks more carefully.

  "Lightning burns," he murmured.

  The fur along the shoulder and flank had been scorched. Not completely destroyed, but blackened in several areas.

  There were also muscle spasms ... subtle tremors beneath the fur.

  "Electrical shock trauma," he said.

  The dog sat down beside the tiger and observed quietly.

  Khun Ming glanced at him.

  "Yes, I know you're watching."

  The dog blinked.

  "Helpful."

  Khun Ming stood and went inside the cottage.

  He returned a moment later with a clay bowl, a small knife, and a woven basket.

  "First rule," he said while kneeling again, "don't panic."

  The dog tilted its head.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said, "I am talking to myself."

  He gently parted the fur around the burned areas.

  The skin underneath was reddened but not completely destroyed.

  "That's fortunate," he murmured.

  Lightning injuries could kill animals outright. The current passing through the body could stop the heart, damage nerves, or cook tissue from the inside.

  This tiger had survived.

  Barely.

  He leaned back slightly and thought.

  "Cooling compress first."

  He stood and walked toward the stream.

  The dog followed.

  Khun Ming dipped a cloth into the cold water and soaked it thoroughly.

  When he returned, he placed the wet cloth carefully across the burned fur.

  The tiger flinched faintly.

  "Relax," he said quietly.

  "This part helps."

  He replaced the cloth several times to reduce the heat trapped in the tissue.

  "Lightning causes thermal and electrical damage," he murmured.

  "Heat must be reduced first."

  The dog watched patiently.

  After several minutes, the tiger's breathing steadied slightly.

  Khun Ming nodded.

  "Better."

  Now came the next step.

  Herbal treatment.

  He stood again and looked toward the forest edge.

  "Good thing dye plants are also medicine."

  The dog's ears lifted.

  Khun Ming walked toward the small patch of vegetation near the stream and knelt beside several familiar plants.

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  "This one," he said, touching a low cluster of thick green leaves.

  "Aloe."

  He sliced one leaf open.

  Clear gel filled the interior.

  "Aloe vera," he said aloud.

  "Medicinal compound: polysaccharides and glycoproteins. Anti-inflammatory. Cooling effect. Promotes skin regeneration."

  The dog sniffed the leaf cautiously.

  "Yes, this is medicine."

  Khun Ming collected several leaves and returned to the courtyard.

  He squeezed the gel into a bowl and crushed it slightly with a wooden pestle.

  Then he carefully spread the gel across the burned fur.

  The tiger's muscles twitched once.

  But the breathing eased.

  "Cooling layer," Khun Ming said.

  "Reduces inflammation."

  Inside the Seven Jewels Sword, the Nine-Tailed Fox watched in silence.

  "He is treating a tribulation wound with garden herbs."

  The Azure Dragon nodded slowly.

  "Effective herbs."

  Phoenix gave a small amused sound.

  Outside, Khun Ming continued his work.

  Next he reached into his basket and produced several dried marigold petals.

  "Marigold," he said. "Anti-inflammatory. Antimicrobial."

  He crushed the petals into a fine paste with warm water.

  The mixture released a faint earthy scent.

  Then he applied the paste around the edges of the burned areas, not directly on the most damaged skin but surrounding it.

  "Supports healing," he explained to the dog.

  The dog leaned closer.

  "Still not edible."

  The dog sat back down.

  Khun Ming finished applying the herbal layer and leaned back on his heels.

  The tiger's breathing had slowed.

  The tremors had decreased.

  He nodded.

  "Stabilized."

  The tiger remained unconscious.

  Which, in Khun Ming's opinion, was ideal.

  "Very cooperative patient."

  He stood and stretched.

  Then he realized something.

  "…I should probably move you."

  Leaving a large injured tiger in the courtyard overnight might attract attention from less polite wildlife.

  He crouched again and lifted the animal slightly.

  Still heavy. Very heavy. But manageable.

  He carried the tiger inside the workshop area and laid it gently on a woven mat near the wall.

  The dog followed.

  Khun Ming stepped back and studied the scene.

  Cottage. Drying ropes. Dye pots.

  One unconscious tiger.

  "…My workshop is becoming strange."

  The dog wagged its tail.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said.

  "I noticed."

  He walked to the window and checked the iron jar.

  The liquid had darkened again.

  "Good," he said quietly.

  Then he looked back at the tiger.

  "…You arrived during a busy week."

  Five bolts of yellow cloth still needed to be produced.

  Eight kilograms of marigold petals needed harvesting.

  Six kilograms of fiber needed mordanting.

  One hundred twenty liters of dye bath needed heating.

  And now.....

  One tiger required medical supervision.

  Khun Ming sighed.

  "You are really disrupting my workflow."

  The dog settled beside the tiger and rested its head on its paws.

  Inside the sword, Baihu finally spoke.

  "That tiger is female."

  The Fox smirked.

  "He doesn't know."

  Khun Ming extinguished the stove fire and prepared a small kettle of herbal tea for himself.

  Then he sat quietly near the doorway and watched the tiger breathe.

  Night fell slowly over the cliff.

  The waterfall continued its steady descent.

  The wind moved gently through the bamboo.

  Khun Ming sipped his tea and muttered quietly,

  "…Tomorrow I harvest petals."

  Khun Ming finished the last sip of tea and set the small clay cup beside the doorway. The warmth lingered in his throat while the night air cooled the rest of him. For a moment he simply listened. The waterfall sounded exactly the same as it had earlier that day, and the bamboo grove carried the same slow whispering movement when the wind passed through. Nothing in the environment appeared concerned about the presence of an unconscious tiger in his workshop. That, he decided, was reassuring. When the natural world remained calm, it usually meant the situation had not become catastrophic yet.

  He stood and walked quietly back toward the woven mat where the tiger lay. The aloe gel had begun to dry slightly across the burned fur, forming a thin translucent layer that sealed the damaged skin from open air. Khun Ming crouched and inspected the treatment carefully. The redness had not worsened. The breathing remained slow but stable. That was encouraging. Lightning injuries were unpredictable; sometimes an animal seemed fine and then collapsed later as internal damage revealed itself. But the pulse beneath the tiger's jaw felt steady when he pressed two fingers lightly against it.

  "Still alive," he murmured.

  The dog opened one eye, confirmed that the tiger remained where it had been placed, and then closed the eye again.

  Khun Ming glanced toward the doorway where the night breeze moved the hanging cloth slightly.

  "You're very calm about this," he said.

  The dog thumped its tail once against the floor.

  He stood again and walked to the drying rack where the previous day's scoured cloth hung loosely in the dim light. Even in darkness, the fibers carried a faint matte sheen that told him the cleaning process had worked properly. Properly prepared fiber always behaved differently in the air. It felt lighter, less resistant. He ran a hand along the edge of the cloth and nodded.

  "Good," he said quietly.

  Behind him, the tiger exhaled slowly.

  Khun Ming turned back to check again, though nothing appeared to have changed. The aloe layer continued doing its work. The marigold paste remained where he had applied it along the edges of the burns. He added one more damp cloth compress over the worst section along the shoulder, adjusting it carefully so the cooling effect remained consistent.

  "Burns dry out tissue," he muttered to himself. "Cooling slows that."

  The dog lifted its head again to watch him.

  "Yes," Khun Ming said. "Still not edible."

  The dog sighed softly and lowered its chin again.

  Outside, the sky had darkened into a clear field of stars. The cliffside air carried that particular crisp stillness that only appeared after sunset in the mountains. Khun Ming stepped into the courtyard briefly and stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders again to loosen the lingering stiffness from carrying the tiger up the trail. The motion pulled a quiet series of cracks from his joints.

  "Next time," he said to the sky, "you walk."

  The sky did not respond.

  The cherry tree near the gate dropped a few late petals that drifted silently onto the stone path. Beside it, the ginkgo leaves shimmered faintly in the starlight, their gold tone muted but still visible.

  Khun Ming studied the courtyard with the same practical eye he used for dye work.

  Clay vats.

  Drying beams.

  Bundles of fiber waiting for treatment.

  Everything remained in order.

  Except for the tiger.

  He walked back inside.

  The dog had shifted closer to the mat and now lay with its back lightly touching the tiger's side. The gesture looked casual, but Khun Ming noticed something interesting when he crouched again. The tiger's breathing had become slightly more even.

  He raised one eyebrow.

  "Are you warming it?"

  The dog did not answer.

  But the tail moved once.

  "Acceptable," Khun Ming said.

  He checked the burns one more time and adjusted the aloe layer with a small wooden spatula so the gel remained evenly distributed across the damaged skin. Herbal medicine worked best when applied consistently rather than in thick uneven layers.

  "Too much and it traps heat," he said quietly.

  The tiger twitched again.

  Not violently this time.

  Just a faint reflex in the foreleg.

  Khun Ming leaned back and watched carefully for several seconds.

  The breathing remained steady.

  "Good sign," he murmured.

  Inside the sword leaning quietly against the wall, the Phoenix observed the scene with a soft laugh.

  "He is monitoring recovery as if this were a wounded farm animal."

  The Azure Dragon responded calmly.

  "In fairness, the method is correct."

  The Nine-Tailed Fox tilted her head slightly.

  "I expected panic."

  Baihu snorted.

  "He is irritated, not afraid."

  Outside the blade, Khun Ming rose again and walked toward the small storage shelf beside the stove. From a clay jar he measured a handful of dried chamomile flowers and dropped them into a kettle with fresh water. Another pot of tea would help keep him awake for the next hour while he watched the patient.

  Steam began rising slowly as the kettle warmed.

  He leaned against the counter and watched the tiger from across the room.

  Five bolts of cloth.

  Eight kilograms of petals.

  Now a tiger.

  He scratched the side of his head thoughtfully.

  "This schedule is becoming complicated," he said.

  The dog yawned.

  Khun Ming poured the chamomile tea into a cup and sat again beside the doorway, where the night air moved gently through the workshop.

  The tiger breathed.

  The waterfall continued its endless descent beyond the cliff.

  And inside the cottage of Atelier Vimutti, a natural dyer guarded his injured "very large patient," completely unaware that the creature he had just treated like a farm animal was actually Hu Xinyan ..... a cultivator who had failed a heavenly tribulation and survived only because a man who cared more about dye baths than heavenly lightning had decided her condition was medically inconvenient to ignore.

  Chapter 11 complete.