The mountains rose and fell in undulating waves, bathed in the brilliant moonlight that stretched for miles, casting a silvery glow over the land. The wilderness was enveloped in profound silence.
Yaoying stepped closer to Tanmoroqie.
The moonlight was like a thin veil, the snowlight cold and pure. She moved between the moonlight and snowglow, her bright, dark eyes shimmering as if reflecting the radiance of a brilliant galaxy.
The night wind blew off her fox-fur hood, loosening her finely braided hair. A light dusting of snowflakes caught in her strands had melted into droplets.
Tanmoroqie lowered his gaze, watching the dark mountain path.
Had she climbed up here alone?
The sound of footsteps drew nearer. Yaoying approached Tanmoroqie, lifted her face—her nose-tip flushed red, her brows and eyes slightly curved.
"General Su, Yuanjue escorted me down the mountain, but as soon as he left, my horse suddenly turned around and ran back for some reason. Now that it's completely dark, I don't know the way and am afraid to be alone in the mountains. I had no choice but to return and seek your shelter, General."
She spoke each word deliberately, her gaze sincere, yet her tone carried a hint of unmistakable cunning.
It almost sounded like she was coaxing him.
Because she trusted him, she spoke with such boldness.
Tanmoroqie lifted his eyes and glanced at her.
Standing before him, Yaoying continued, "By the way, I sent Xie Qing and the others away. There’s no one left at the foot of the mountain now. If you won’t take me in, General, I’ll have to return to the Holy City alone." After a pause, she added, "Although General Ashina has drawn away all the assassins, there may still be ambushes at the post stations in towns and tribes. Traveling alone and severely injured, you might attract suspicion. Bringing me along could help conceal your identity."
Yuanjue had insisted that she and her guards remain outside Sand City, but she felt this was unwise. If the assassins discovered her retinue had not entered the city, they might suspect Su Dan Gu was still outside. She had already sent Xie Qing and the others away.
Tanmoroqie remained silent, his gaze drifting from Yaoying’s wind-chilled, flushed cheeks to the treacherous rubble beneath the snowdrifts.
Yaoying held her breath, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on him.
After a long moment, Tanmoroqie gave a slight nod.
Yaoying breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing the campfire had gone out, she bent down, opened the bulging blue ground beast-patterned brocade pouch at her waist, and took out a flint, steel, and tinder. Crouching by the fire pit, she tried to relight the fire.
The night wind howled. Holding the flint, she found a sheltered spot and patiently struck the steel gently, the red and green gems in her braided hair glinting with each movement.
The sound of striking echoed in the quiet night.
Tanmoroqie watched the top of Yaoying’s head intently, then sat cross-legged and reached out his hand to her.
Yaoying immediately placed the flint and steel into his palm, stood up, and moved close to his side, shielding him from the wind, her arm brushing against his.
Up close, she carried the chill of wind and snow, her body trembling slightly.
She was afraid of the cold.
Tanmoroqie flicked his fingers lightly, striking the flint and steel together. Sparks flew, igniting a small piece of wood coated with sulfur.
Yaoying hurriedly added more wood chips to the tinder. As bright yellow flames leaped up, she exhaled in relief, wiped her hands, and rummaged in her pouch again. She pulled out several bottles of medicinal ointments and handed them to Tanmoroqie.
"These are all for treating wounds, General. Please see if any are suitable for blade injuries…"
After speaking, she retrieved a folded mink cloak, unfolded it, and draped it over Tanmoroqie’s shoulders.
Tanmoroqie sat cross-legged, his posture still upright and elegant. Yaoying had to stand to place the cloak over him.
As the cloak settled on his shoulders, Tanmoroqie froze for a moment.Yaoying blinked at him and continued adjusting his cloak. She leaned in closer, her slender fingers reaching beneath his chin to tie the fastenings, wrapping him snugly in the cloak until he was completely shielded from the wind. Satisfied, she patted her hands.
"The general's cloak was used to keep me warm, and your robes are thin. The mountain wind is strong, and you're injured—you should wear more."
The thick cloak blocked the biting night wind as the campfire crackled, gradually warming him. Tanmoroqie held the medicine Yaoying had handed him, his brow slightly furrowed as he gazed at her in a daze.
Yaoying stood and hurried away, soon returning with a pile of medical supplies, warming blankets, leather ropes, iron nails, and dried provisions from her mount. She sat by the campfire, laid out a felt blanket, and swiftly set up a small, open makeshift tent. Adding wood chips to the fire, she stretched her chilled hands toward the flames to warm them.
The person-tall tent blocked the wind from behind, and the campfire burned brighter, its flickering warm glow illuminating her face—her cheeks like fresh lychees, her profile soft and graceful.
After warming herself for a while, Yaoying withdrew her heated hands, rubbed the backs of them, and tapped her stiffened legs. She broke off a piece of hard naan bread and propped it over the fire, then began brewing medicinal soup in a small earthen pot.
After bustling about for some time, she noticed Tanmoroqie watching her and looked up.
"Did I disturb your meditation, General?"
Her voice was hushed, as if afraid to disrupt him.
Tanmoroqie shook his head.
Yaoying smiled. "General, focus on your cultivation. Don't mind me—I brought blankets, felt, and food. There's nourishing medicinal soup brewing in the pot. When it's ready, I'll wake you. I asked Yuanjue, and he said you could have some restorative soup."
Tanmoroqie closed his eyes.
Yaoying sat beside him, chin in hands, quietly gazing at him.
The cloak and flint had been borrowed from Xie Qing.
Yuanjue had escorted her down the mountain, and she had urged him along the way not to worry about her and to attend to his important duties instead. But Yuanjue was stubborn and insisted on seeing her safely to Xie Qing before departing alone.
The bodies on the mountain path had been collected and buried by the guards. Bi Suo had taken most of the personal troops, while Xie Qing stayed behind, waiting for Yaoying.
Worried about leaving the severely injured Su Dan Gu alone on the mountain, Yaoying had Xie Qing catch up with Bi Suo to create the illusion that she was with them. She gathered some clothing, dried provisions, medical supplies, and leather ropes for setting up a tent, then returned alone.
The joke about her mount getting spooked and running back was just that—a jest.
On many nights, Su Dan Gu had silently guarded her. Now that he was injured and had to conceal his whereabouts, she was one of the few who knew of his condition and wouldn't reveal it. She ought to stay and protect him.
...
The campfire burned quietly.
Afraid of catching a chill, Yaoying wrapped herself in layer upon layer of blankets, resembling a round, fluffy ball as she kept watch beside Tanmoroqie.
The night deepened, and weary in body and mind, she couldn't help dozing off, her head nodding until she jolted awake and immediately looked at Tanmoroqie.
He remained still in meditation.
Yaoying sighed in relief and dozed again. In her haze, she heard the person beside her breathing heavily and abruptly woke, scrambling to Tanmoroqie's side.
Tanmoroqie's lips were pale, his shoulders trembling slightly as he shakily opened a medicine bottle, his aura chaotic all around.Yaoying snatched the medicine bottle, pulled out the stopper, poured out the pills, and brought them to Tanmoroqie’s lips. Frowning, she asked, “General, why didn’t you wake me?”
Tanmoroqie swallowed the medicine, feeling the soft touch of her fingertips brush against his lips. A strange sensation stirred in his heart, and he retreated slightly.
Yaoying stared at him, her gaze piercing.
Tanmoroqie closed his eyes to regulate his breathing. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but when he opened them again, he immediately met a stern gaze.
Yaoying’s lips were pressed tightly together. Wrapped in layers of blankets, a pointed felt hat on her head, and a fur neck warmer around her neck, she resembled a solemn pagoda. Her expression was focused, her eyes coldly fixed on him.
It was unclear how long she had been glaring at him, but the rims of her eyes were slightly red.
Seeing him open his eyes, Yaoying’s gaze sharpened, carrying a hint of accusation.
Recalling what had just happened, Tanmoroqie thought for a moment and said softly, “If I have another episode, I will wake you, Princess, and ask for your help.”
Yaoying’s expression softened, and she nodded. “General, don’t endure it alone. You must wake me.”
As she nodded, her felt hat trembled, like a pagoda swaying before his eyes.
It was as if a wisp of cloud had drifted by, its reflection skimming the surface of a lake. The terrifying illusions faded, leaving only the warmth of a campfire, a small drafty felt tent, clear skies, and a tranquil mind.
Tanmoroqie closed his eyes again.
Though she had his assurance, Yaoying still didn’t dare to sleep. She steeled herself and watched the Medicinal Soup boiling in the campfire. Hearing the bubbling sound, she lifted the lid and sniffed it.
Tanmoroqie swayed unsteadily.
Yaoying looked up, her eyes widening. She quickly set aside the lid and rushed forward, catching him before he collapsed.
Tanmoroqie’s body was burning hot; even through his thick cloak, Yaoying could feel it.
She untied the fastening at his neck, reached inside, and touched his neck—it was drenched in sweat.
“Do you need more medicine?” she asked, her voice filled with concern, reaching for the medicine bottle.
Tanmoroqie trembled lightly, his voice fragmented. “No... it’s the poison from the wound acting up...”
Yaoying frowned deeply, her hands trembling along with his. “What should we do then? How can I make you feel better?”
Yuanjue had mentioned to her that the assassin’s blade was poisoned. Though he had taken antidotes to save his life, the poison would still flare up occasionally.
Sweat drenched Tanmoroqie’s neck and body, as if he had been pulled out of water. His lips were unnaturally red.
“I’m fine... Princess, don’t be afraid...” His brows furrowed tightly, his voice low. “I just need to endure it.”
Yaoying froze.
He was worried she would panic and was trying to comfort her.
On their way down the mountain, Yaoying had asked Yuanjue, “When the Regent was injured before, was he alone then too?”
Yuanjue nodded and whispered, “When the Regent shows signs of being unable to suppress his Cultivation method, we have only one option: leave the medicine and stay far away from him. The farther, the better.”
Yaoying looked back at the wind-swept mountain ridges, picturing his solitary figure in her mind.
He bore the reputation of a bloodthirsty killer, always alone, despised and cursed by others. Even when injured, he remained by himself.
Staying far away from him was best for everyone.
But what about him?
The body in her arms was tall and upright. When he stood normally, he was like a towering mountain range, full of strength and reassurance.At this moment, his entire body burned with fever, trembling in waves, yet he still remembered to comfort her with a calm voice, as if completely indifferent to his own life or death.
Yaoying's heart trembled, her eyes moist as she gently laid Tanmoroqie down on the spread-out felt blanket. She had just moved the campfire, making the stone bed beneath the blanket dry and warm.
"I'm not afraid, General Su."
Yaoying wrung out a cloth to wipe the sweat from Tanmoroqie, carefully avoiding his chin and wounds.
"I'm just worried about you."
Tanmoroqie lay by the campfire, his green eyes gazing at her with a hazy, damp intensity. After a moment, he wearily closed them.
Yaoying continued wiping his sweat, noticing his clothes were soaked through. She carefully undid his garments.
The skin revealed was a light wheat color, firm and robust, with a rich luster. His shoulders were broad, muscle lines clearly defined, covered in a thin layer of sweat that made him slick and glossy to the touch—every accidental contact felt scalding.
Her gaze drifted lower, where blood had seeped through the bandages on his wounds.
Yaoying snapped back to attention, swiftly removing Tanmoroqie's clothes to reapply medicine. She dressed him in the spare clothes she had brought, then draped the brocade robe over him before pulling the felt blanket tightly around him.
Having cared for the injured Xie Qing before, Yaoying knew how to tend to wounds skillfully. Still, the effort left her panting and drenched in sweat.
Tanmoroqie had fallen into a deep slumber.
Yaoying leaned over, touching his forehead and neck. Feeling his temperature had lowered, she let out a long sigh of relief. Her fingers inadvertently brushed against the scar on his face—rough to the touch.
Tanmoroqie stirred, his brow furrowing tightly.
Yaoying withdrew her hand, gently dabbing his cheeks with the cloth in a soft, soothing motion.
The night wind beat against the felt tent, and the campfire crackled intermittently.
Yaoying didn't know how long she had kept watch, her mind weary, eyelids heavy and stuck together. Struggling to lift them, she reached out to check Tanmoroqie's forehead before slumping beside the blanket and closing her eyes to rest.
A cold wind swept into the tent, its chill piercing to the bone. Half-conscious, Yaoying fumbled for a wool blanket to cover herself and drifted into sleep.
...
By the late night, the scorching heat had faded, replaced by a piercing ache that swept through his limbs. Tanmoroqie shivered with cold, his body feeling as though it were sinking endlessly, deeper and deeper, slowly descending into an eternal layer of ice.
Suddenly, his surroundings turned dark and eerie. Demonic laughter echoed around him, mountains of blades and forests of swords stretched before his eyes, skeletons littered the ground, and iron walls extended for miles. Drifting aimlessly, he heard the wails of countless ghosts with nowhere to turn.
Knowing these were illusions, he instinctively reached for the warmth beside him. He didn't know what he grasped—only that it felt soft and smooth, like the finest cream, delicate and tender, with a faint, sweet fragrance.
In his muddled state, Tanmoroqie tightened his arm, carefully drawing that warmth and softness into his embrace, shielding it from the blue-faced fangs of the surrounding demons.
The soft form struggled lightly in his arms. He tightened his hold, his arm firmly restraining her. As the demons retreated and the dark smoke faded, warmth gradually returned to his body. A sense of peace settled in his heart, and he sank into a deep sleep.
The next day, a sliver of pale light appeared on the horizon.
Mist and clouds lingered in the valley, swirling with falling snow.
A thin layer of ice coated the outside of the felt tent. Morning light broke through the clouds, pouring down and reflecting brilliantly off the ice crystals.Tanmoroqie slowly opened his eyes, his emerald gaze fixed on the felt tent above as he gradually regained consciousness. He raised his hand and was about to rise when his palm encountered a peculiar, soft, and smooth texture.
His brows twitched as he fully awakened. Lowering his gaze, he saw Yaoying’s glossy, jet-black hair resting against his shoulder.
Layers of woolen blankets blocked the chilly wind. He lay inside the tent while she curled up entirely in his embrace, facing him sideways with flushed cheeks. Her dark braids were loosely undone, the colorful ribbons that bound her hair hanging slack. Loose strands of her hair tangled around his arm and palm, entwined inextricably.
She was still asleep, breathing evenly, her right hand clutching a cloth tightly.
Tanmoroqie recalled the scene before he fell unconscious last night, his thick brows slightly furrowed as he withdrew his arm.
Yaoying murmured softly in her dream.
Tanmoroqie paused, and seeing that she did not wake, he gently released her, covered her with the woolen blanket, tucked in the corners, then rose and left the tent.
The morning breeze scattered the clouds. Standing at the edge of the cliff and gazing into the distance, the sky stretched clear for miles, bathed in the brilliant glow of dawn.
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