In the first half of the night, Yaoying burned with fever, her body scorching hot. She couldn't even drink water, let alone finish that bowl of plain soup noodles.
She felt herself being gently lifted, a bowl of soup brought to her lips. A light, sweet fragrance wafted toward her, but it made her nauseous. Lifting her arm, she pushed the bowl away.
Soup splashed out, and the bowl was immediately withdrawn.
The quilt was warm and cozy, as if hiding a bright, glowing charcoal fire inside. Yaoying felt unbearably hot and restless, unable to resist pushing away the heavy bedding covering her.
No sooner had she pushed it aside than the quilt was draped over her again. She pushed it away once more, and after a short while, it gently returned to its place. In her feverish state, she grew irritable, letting out discontented whimpers, kicking the quilt away with all her might, again and again, shoving it downward.
Like a cat throwing a tantrum.
The figure by the bedside froze for a moment.
As the heat dissipated, Yaoying felt more comfortable. She stretched out her limbs, turned over, and rested her head on her arm, curling up to sleep. Her jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her delicate, jade-like feet were exposed, the arches slightly tensed, looking pitiful. Her slender, fragile form was a stark contrast to the tantrum-throwing child of moments before.
A short while later, the quilt was draped over her again.
A hand with distinct knuckles gently pressed down the corner of the quilt.
Yaoying suddenly opened her eyes, lifting her gaze, her thick lashes damp.
The gesture felt familiar and comforting.
…
When she was little, Yaoying had to take medicine every day and often couldn't sleep through the night. Especially during the year she was learning to walk, the pain in her legs was unbearable. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to find a comfortable position no matter how she shifted.
She didn't want to cry from the pain, but tears still fell, dampening her pillow.
Hearing the sound, Li Zhongqian entered the room holding a candle and shone it on her face. "Little Seven?"
Knowing his impatient temper and not wanting to worry him, Yaoying immediately held her breath, staying perfectly still, pretending to be asleep.
Li Zhongqian leaned over, pulled the quilt up from where it had slipped below her shoulders, and gently pressed it down twice. He then smoothed the bottom of the quilt, stood by the bed for a moment, and left.
Though the pain in Yaoying's legs remained, her heart felt much more at ease. She turned over and went back to sleep.
…
Years had passed, and Yaoying had long forgotten the pain that once kept her awake all night. All she remembered was the gentle pressure of her brother's clumsy hands as he tucked in the quilt corners.
The lamplight was dim and faint.
Yaoying stared at the slender hand by the bedside, her gaze slowly moving upward until she saw a ferocious Yaksa mask.
She froze for a moment, thinking hazily, This dream is a bit scary.
Her eyes continued upward, meeting a pair of deep jade-green eyes gazing quietly at her, their expression calm.
A warmth welled up in Yaoying's eyes.
The grievances, fears, helplessness, and loneliness that had been buried deep in her heart surged up like a raging river, suddenly bursting forth.
"Brother…"
As she uttered those words, her nose tingled with emotion, tears welling in her lashes. She grabbed the hand that was about to withdraw.
"Brother, I feel awful."
Because she knew it was a dream, she didn't have to hide anything. She could indulge in acting spoiled and pouring out her grievances.
Her burning hand clasped the slightly cool one, as if an electric current passed between them.
The hand in her palm twitched slightly, as if trying to pull away.
Yaoying held on tighter, just as she had when she was young, clutching the hands that had guided her, teaching her to walk step by step. She pressed her small face against it, rubbing it affectionately, silently pleading.
The hand she held so tightly stopped moving, allowing her to press her feverish cheek against it. The coolness of the skin beneath the sleeve felt soothing.
"Brother…" Yaoying lifted her face, her voice soft and pleading. "Can you not wear the mask? The ghost face is a bit scary."The man looked down at her.
Yaoying’s face was flushed crimson, her eyes hazy with intoxication, shimmering with a spring-like allure as she stared fixedly at him. Mistaking his identity, she was both assertive and coquettish, radiating a willful charm.
"Brother."
She urged softly, her voice faint and breath weak, brows tightly furrowed as if enduring pain.
The man remained silent, slowly removing his mask.
Beneath the Yaksa mask lay a face covered in scars.
Holding the mask, he prepared to put it back on.
Yaoying pressed down on his arm, her eyes curving into a sweet smile, the corners of her eyes and brows brimming with tender delight, seemingly oblivious to the scars on his face.
"This is much better."
Yaoying murmured softly, feeling reassured at last. Clutching his arm, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
The man was momentarily taken aback.
By the later hours of the night, Yaoying began to feel cold.
Threads of chill seeped into her bones, spreading throughout her body. Her hands and feet turned icy as she hugged herself tightly, curling into a ball.
The hand she had been gripping tightly slipped from her grasp.
A weight settled on her shoulders as someone added another layer of bedding, gently pressing it down twice and tucking in the corners.
Shivering, Yaoying whispered, "Brother, I'm cold."
The figure by the bedside moved away briefly, returning with more blankets to spread over her, pressing them down. The charcoal brazier was dragged closer to the bed, emitting faint creaks.
Yaoying still felt cold, her teeth chattering.
The tall, straight figure settled beside the bed, lifted a corner of the blanket, and reached a hand inside, fingers pressing against her wrist.
The calloused pad of his thumb brushed against the back of her hand, sending a shiver through her. Then, a wave of warmth spread from where their fingers touched.
The spot where his thumb rested felt cozy, and Yaoying began to feel slightly better. Instinctively, she leaned toward the figure, pressing herself closely against him, until her soft form was entirely nestled against his side.
The figure remained motionless, like a statue.
After a night of turmoil, the oil lamp burned out, emitting tendrils of smoke.
Yaoying drifted between fever and chills, half-awake and half-asleep, until she opened her eyes.
The room was dim, but a beam of cold moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the man beside her bed. The moonlight cut across his face, softening the scars and outlining his deep, elegant features. His lashes cast a faint shadow, making his jade-green eyes appear even clearer and more profound.
His gaze was lowered, his full lips moving softly as he recited Scriptures.
Yaoying only knew a few simple phrases of Brahmi and couldn’t understand the Scripture he was chanting. She faintly caught a few words: "relieve illness," "free from suffering."
So Su Dan Gu was indeed a disciple of Buddhism. Even when he laid down his blade, he could still chant Scriptures.
His recitation was cool and melodious. Though Yaoying didn’t understand a single phrase, she knew he was praying for her. A warm current seemed to flow through her heart, bringing comfort and reassurance. Gradually, her body felt less tormented, her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell into a deep sleep.
This time, Yaoying slept soundly.
When she opened her eyes again, it was already the next morning.
The early morning sunlight spilled over the snow, casting a pale, floating blue light by the window.
The effects of the medicine had worn off. Yaoying moved her arm, her body aching and weak. Glancing around the room, she froze.
Su Dan Gu was leaning against the bedside, eyes closed as if asleep.
Had he really stayed by her side all night?
Yaoying was stunned for a moment, recalling the embarrassments of the previous night. Afraid of waking him, she didn’t dare to get up, only shifting her feet beneath the blankets.As her limbs gradually regained strength, she felt dry and comfortable, full of energy, and ready to bounce around again.
Yaoying twisted lightly under the quilt, slowly moving to the other side of the bed, her gaze returning to Su Dan Gu.
He sat leaning back, still in the posture of chanting scriptures, his shoulders and back tense, with a faint bluish tint around his eyes.
This man, who killed without blinking, could actually be so considerate in caring for others.
Yaoying stared at Su Dan Gu, lost in thought.
...
She was naturally beautiful, and countless young men admired her looks. If she were to smile at them, they would risk their lives for her.
But that fiery, passionate admiration was merely the fleeting fervor of youth. They adored the stunningly beautiful, lofty princess—the number one beauty—and she couldn't take it seriously.
Yaoying knew that Zheng Jing liked her, Xue Wu liked her, and the young master of the Pei family liked her.
Their affection was genuine, but when her life and their futures couldn't both be preserved, how many would dare to risk everything for her?
Even Zheng Jing, who sincerely adored her, only asked her to run away with him in a moment of impulse.
Yaoying was even certain of one thing: if Li De or Li Xuanzhen killed her in front of everyone, the young men in the capital would be furious at Li De's cruelty, lament her fate, shed tears for her, and even draw their swords in anger. But then what?
After sobering up, they would continue to serve Li De and his son as if nothing had happened.
Years later, when those young men were old, surrounded by children and grandchildren, with wives and concubines aplenty, they might recall her, the beauty who perished too soon, and grieve for her briefly.
It wasn't that the young men were heartless or ungrateful—Yaoying had barely spoken to them, so she couldn't expect more.
In this world, when she was in dire straits, the only one who would travel thousands of miles without hesitation to rescue her was always her second brother, Li Zhongqian.
The only one who would avenge her at all costs was also Li Zhongqian.
So, when Yaoying was striving for Li Zhongqian, she didn't weep and beg Zheng Jing for help but instead used the Xie family's wealth to strike a deal with the Zheng family.
When corresponding with Du Sinan, she dangled the fame and status he most desired, listing prospects enticing enough to sway him.
When cornered by Haidu Aling with no way out and forced to seek help from Tanmoroqie, Yaoying's mind raced, every word laced with implication, trying to win him over with benefits.
Tanmoroqie saved her.
But not because of the promises she made, nor because he wanted an alliance with Great Wei.
At that time, she couldn't guarantee anything, and he didn't take her words seriously.
Later, Yaoying pondered carefully: Tanmoroqie protected her not because she had helped Mengda Ti Po or coincidentally brought him Water Mang Grass.
He saved her simply because he could.
Even if Tanmoroqie had limited time left, he would still save a stranger like her in passing.
He promised to shelter her and truly proclaimed it to the world, allowing her to reside in the Buddhist monastery under the pretense of emulating the Girl of Matanga, thus escaping Haidu Aling's covetous gaze.
Now, he sent Su Dan Gu to escort her to Gaochang, helping her return to court sooner.
From beginning to end, he didn't need her gratitude, nor did he require anything in exchange.
...
Yaoying sat up, recalling the glance Tanmoroqie had cast her during the morning lesson as he sat upright in the Buddha hall.
His gaze was clear and transcendent.
Yaoying smiled, her cheeks warming slightly.Su Dan Gu was elusive in his movements, Ashina Bisha was eccentric, and Tanmoroqie’s trust in Su Dan Gu also drew sidelong glances.
She had a keen intuition—the scar-riddled face of Su Dan Gu did not match his eyes.
She suspected Su Dan Gu’s identity and had deliberately tested him multiple times over the past few days.
He must have noticed it, yet he treated her as always. Tanmoroqie had sent him to protect her, and so he guarded her well.
Yaoying slowly exhaled the turbid air from her chest.
No matter what secrets lay between Tanmoroqie, Su Dan Gu, and Bi Suo—fellow disciples—and no matter what Su Dan Gu’s true identity was, those were their own affairs. She should not pry into their secrets.
Since they treated her with sincerity, she ought to respond with sincerity in return.
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