The kiss ended.
Dark fragrance floated about, and the scented breeze seemed to halt as well.
As their lips parted slightly, one could almost hear each other’s disordered, rapid breaths, moistened and ragged.
Everything in this world seemed to fall silent at that moment.
Liu Qiao’e and Mu Daoying raised their eyes, and in the instant their gazes met.
“You…”
“I…”
Unconsciously, they fell into a subtle, eerie quiet.
Embarrassment spread between the two, while the early cicadas on the tree outside the window chirped noisily.
Liu Qiao’e frowned, annoyed. “So noisy!”
Mu Daoying subconsciously agreed. “Mm, really noisy.”
Then came another long silence. Belatedly, a shiver of lingering heat rolled over their backs.
Wait, what were they talking about?
Both bodies shuddered together. They came back to their senses, exchanged a glance, blushed deeply, and turned their heads away.
“You…”
“You…”
Both felt their mouths dry and did not dare look into each other’s eyes.
Finally, Mu Daoying put a hand to his lips, coughed lightly with a slightly flushed face. “My apologies.”
Liu Qiao’e’s face flushed bright red once more.
She felt that this “my apologies” after his kiss was pure pretense—better left unsaid.
Mu Daoying spoke again. “Let’s go.”
Go? Where to?
Both felt deeply embarrassed inside and did not dare look at each other.
Liu Qiao’e’s feet felt like they stepped on clumps of cotton. Dazedly, she was led by him to the door of the guest room.
She startled. “You!!”
Mu Daoying saw her and snapped back to his senses. He too startled, his face heating up as he hurriedly clarified. “Ying—absolutely not that meaning!”
Liu Qiao’e felt somewhat ashamed and annoyed. She considered herself a veteran of the pleasure quarters and simply could not accept stumbling so repeatedly in front of him today.
As if reclaiming her ground, she said fiercely yet softly. “I bet you wouldn’t dare!”
He was not deterred by her sharp tone. Instead, he noticed that dark, round little head.
Under the sun, fine fuzzy strands of hair glowed golden, softly tousled atop her head by the wind.
So small, putting on a fierce front—strong outside but weak inside.
Mu Daoying’s throat rolled several times. His heart itched, his palms itched. He flexed his fingers and finally could not hold back. He reached out to stroke her hair, swiftly like petting a cat, and said softly. “It was Ying who spoke wrongly. Please don’t blame this old mother.”
When he uttered “old mother,” it somehow did not suit her petite form for some reason. It was so cute that he nearly laughed, and a faint curve appeared at his lips.
Liu Qiao’e startled at his touch. She widened her eyes and bristled her brows.
His back chilled. He knew he had gotten carried away and feared her outburst. Seeing it best to quit while ahead, he quickly withdrew his hand.
In the end, Mu Daoying sent Liu Qiao’e into the room and stopped himself at the threshold. Only then did they part ways.
Once back in his own room, Mu Daoying swiftly shut the door, leaned against it, and gently exhaled. His heart nearly jumped out of his throat.
He tried to pour a cup of tea but spilled most of it. He looked down and saw his fingers trembling.
He silently clenched his fingers and let out another heavy sigh.
Just as Mu Daoying sorted through his thoughts alone, someone knocked on the door.
He opened it and welcomed them in. It was Zhao Yange and Shen Chengyin.
Mu Daoying paused slightly upon seeing them. For some reason, his formerly closest friends were people he did not particularly wish to see today.
Zhao Yange asked upon entering. “You all right?”
Mu Daoying paused and frowned. “What would be wrong with me?”
Shen Chengyin eyed his expression and chose her words carefully. “We heard from Suxin that the Joyous Union Sect clashed with the Jade Clarity Temple again. The old mother flew into a rage, but Ning Xia, it was you who stepped forward and persuaded the old mother to leave.”
Zhao Yange added. “How did it go? Did she hurt you?”
Mu Daoying fell silent. He felt the faint warmth of his heartbeat in his chest cool bit by bit.
He thought he understood now why he did not wish to see Yongzhang and A-Yin at this moment.
Their very presence starkly reminded him of his own baseness.
All of this was mere play-acting to earn Liu Qiao’e’s trust.
Their ultimate goal remained obtaining the antidote for the One Line Pull and heading to Fogveil Mountain to uncover his master’s secrets.
“I’m fine.” Mu Daoying shook his head.
She liked him—how could he come to harm? Yet a surprising pang of pain welled up in his heart. Sympathy for the woman, shame toward himself.
Zhao Yange breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, then. Yunhua said she nearly killed someone! Though the old mother treats you differently, I was still worried sick.”
Wu Yunhua was that loose-tongued disciple from the Jade Clarity Temple earlier.
Mu Daoying pursed his lips and said faintly. “A gentleman is slow with words, quick with action. Wu Yunhua really should learn to control his mouth.”
His nature was gentle and tolerant above all. He had always called him Wu Shidi or Yunhua in the past—when had they ever seen him so aloof?
At these words, both Zhao Yange and Shen Chengyin looked at him in surprise.
But Mu Daoying’s expression had already returned to its usual restraint and solemnity, sealing off any external scrutiny.
Zhao Yange assumed it was because he had received no news of his master for so long and his mood soured. “As for Fogveil Mountain, A-Yin and I are keeping watch for you. Don’t be too anxious.”
That day, after Mu Daoying agreed to Zhao Yange’s proposal, he had told him about Ling Yuan’s message. Zhao Yange had grown up with him and was one of the few he could trust in his current predicament.
Trapped by the One Line Pull, he could not move freely or stray too far from Liu Qiao’e. Zhao Yange had offered then to investigate Fogveil Mountain in his stead.
Over the past two days, he had turned the outer mountains around Fogveil City upside down, yet still found no trace of Ling Yuan.
“If we want to search further, we’ll have to go deeper—into the core of the mine veins.”
Mu Daoying knew of Zhao Yange’s efforts. Meeting the sincere gazes of his two friends, bitterness filled his heart amid a rush of complex emotions. “Sorry…”
Given Mu Daoying’s sensitive status now, Zhao Yange and Shen Chengyin did not linger. They drank a cup of tea and then rose to leave.
Before departing, Shen Chengyin hesitated for a long while before speaking. “Ning Xia, do you have something weighing on you?”
Mu Daoying stepped back a few paces, his voice cool. “I’m fine.”
By afternoon, sunlight streamed through the window, sliced by the doorframe into stark halves of dim and bright.
The youth’s slender form faded into the shadows, his expression growing indistinct.
Once they left, Mu Daoying shut the door, picked up the cold tea on the table, and tasted its lingering faint bitterness on his tongue. He swallowed and walked to the bed, dropped the bed curtains, closed his eyes, and sighed.
He recalled that kiss in the corridor corner. He felt himself utterly vile.
He had wronged Liu Qiao’e, and he had wronged the good intentions of Yongzhang and A-Yin toward him.
Was this not shameless betrayal?
Unknowingly, Mu Daoying fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed of vast expanses of reeds, and in the dream, someone seemed to sing from the distant shore.
The song wove into the white blur of reeds and snowflakes. That faint, ethereal voice vaguely sang:
Guan Guan Cry of the Ospreys, on the River Isle. Graceful lady, gentleman good match.
…
After returning, Liu Qiao’e also had a dream.
It had been a long time since she dreamed of that small mountain village from her memories. She dreamed of that youth like frost and snow—so near yet unattainable. But this time, the youth held her in his arms and kissed her, deep and shallow, with such passion that even she could tell.
He had fallen for her.
When Liu Qiao’e woke from the dream, she was drenched in sweat, as if her soul had just returned from that sweltering midsummer. Her arms felt weak, her back clung sticky, and her body bore an unspeakable change.
She hurriedly poured a cup of cold tea and drained it, finally suppressing the hot throbbing within her.
At that moment, Mu Daoying’s clear voice sounded through the door panel, startling Liu Qiao’e so badly that her courage nearly fled and her three souls almost scattered to seven parts.
“Old mother, may this young one enter?”
“Not allowed!” She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the corner dressing table and felt her heart skip a beat. She snapped harshly.
Was that woman in the mirror, cheeks flushed and face full of amorous charm, truly herself?
Silence fell outside.
Hmph, let him stew for a bit!
Only after a good while did the voice from outside speak again. “The person in charge of hosting that Bone Devouring Sect gathering has been identified. Elder Song invites the old mother to discuss matters.”
That day, after following the crowd to the outskirts and encountering Ling Yuan, the Immortal Alliance had begun investigating the gathering.
The common folk had scattered in fright at the time, panicked and hard to question in detail. Once they calmed, careful inquiries yielded little—mostly hearsay. They had come upon rumors of the gathering.
They had heard of the assembly and showed up. When asked who preached daily or hosted regular meetings, they traced from small organizers upward and finally found the lead for that event.
Liu Qiao’e slowly changed into a comfortable outfit and combed her hair.
She usually wore no makeup, but today her head felt oddly bare. After a thought, she clipped a jasmine bloom from the vase and pinned it on.
The jasmine in the vase was snow-white, with large, intensely fragrant petals, rich and heady. They still bore dewdrops from yesterday morning.
Had Mu Daoying sent it to her room yesterday? Such a lively, extravagant scent from someone so cool and reserved—he had chosen this flower.
She strode out with her head high, glancing sideways with haughty pride.
Mu Daoying saw her.
He also saw the jasmine at her temple.
He stared fixedly at the flower.
Its fragrance was especially domineering, so rich it turned stifling, nearly suffocating, stirring panic and a faint throb in his heart.
–
As for the person who had hosted that Bone Devouring Sect gathering.
Song Miaoling simply said he was surnamed Huang, named Shuangxi—a carpenter who appeared to be an ordinary mortal with no cultivation. Three years prior, he had encountered a Bone Devouring Sect disciple preaching and devoutly converted, helping the sect develop followers ever since.
Liu Qiao’e was a woman of action. She frowned. “If that’s the case, why not go straight there, see him, and get the truth?”
Song Miaoling nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought! For this trip—” She turned to Lai Yongle. “How about Elder Lai stays at the inn with the remaining disciples for backup?”
Lai Yongle grinned. “Sounds good. It’s finally the Wandering Sword Pavilion’s turn to rest—what objection could I have?”