Although that was what he said, after Zhao Yange left, that phrase “Old Mother might like you” lingered in Mu Daoying’s mind and would not dissipate for a long time.
He gently closed his eyes, trying to drive away the thought, but to little effect.
Helplessly, Mu Daoying got up, supported himself on the bed frame, and walked to the window. Through it, he gazed at the bright moon hanging in the night sky.
…Did Liu Qiao’e like him?
Unknowingly, he stood there until the moon reached mid-sky, his fingertips frozen like ice. A night breeze blew, and Mu Daoying shivered, his body hair standing on end.
–
The wound caused by demonic energy healed very slowly. But on the third day, Mu Daoying volunteered to join the others in pursuing Ling Yuan.
The Mu family disciples were strictly educated from a young age. Before dawn, they had to get up to practice writing, attend classes, recite lengthy classics and histories page after page, sit straight at the desk writing large characters sheet after sheet, and learn everything from music, chess, calligraphy, painting, archery, riding, and the six arts—proficient in all.
Mu Daoying was an exception. He was young and often ill, sickly like a kitten in his childhood. His parents and sisters doted on him endlessly—how could they bear to let him suffer?
But the young boy did not think so. Because he received all the family’s favoritism, his stubborn nature drove him to always want to prove he was no worse than anyone else.
He had once secretly taken cold baths in winter, imitating the ancient sages to temper his will and endure what ordinary people could not.
While others wrote for two hours, read for two hours, and practiced riding and shooting for two hours, he secretly lit a lamp at midnight and practiced for three, four, or five hours.
He was accustomed to enduring. This minor injury paled in comparison to his master’s uncertain fate, so of course it was tolerable.
Unfortunately, his request did not receive the others’ approval.
Mu Daoying had always suspected that Song Miaoling and the others were keeping him in the inn to recuperate and not letting him go out to avoid him.
After all, he bore the title of Ling Yuan’s direct disciple, and his connection to the defection was unclear. It was only natural for them to suspect and guard against him.
Even if he could not participate in the pursuit, Mu Daoying refused to sit idly in the inn waiting.
During the day, he wandered near the inn, chatting with the porters and vendors, hoping to glean some clues from their casual remarks.
That day, as usual, he went out, but his mind was still preoccupied with Zhao Yange’s shocking words.
There was an old woman near the inn who sold grass-woven and bamboo-woven crafts. Mu Daoying saw that she was advanced in age yet still exposed to wind and dew outdoors. Out of compassion, even if not for investigating his master’s whereabouts, he often went to her stall to chat and lend a hand.
Jade Clarity Temple had always required its disciples to farm and fend for themselves.
Simple farm tools like bamboo baskets and brooms were extremely familiar for Mu Daoying to make.
He sat on a small stool right on the street, a clean white cloth spread before his knees. His fair fingertips methodically wove the bamboo strips.
As he wove, he could not help but zone out.
Just then, a familiar voice suddenly sounded above his head.
“Mu Daoying?”
This voice was like heavenly music descending, startling Mu Daoying so much that his finger slipped, and a tiny burr on the bamboo strip pricked into his fingertip.
Mu Daoying’s heart nearly leaped out of his throat, but his face remained impassive. He gently wiped away the bead of blood from his fingertip and looked up. “Milady.”
Liu Qiao’e frowned as she eyed the half-woven large bamboo basket on his knee. “What are you doing here?”
As soon as she returned to the inn, she hadn’t seen any sign of Mu Daoying, so she went out to look for him. She never expected to find him sitting on the roadside like a beggar.
His plain hemp daoist robe draped down, giving him an air of calm serenity.
Her face was a bit flushed from the sun. Though he shouldn’t have noticed, Mu Daoying caught sight of the strands of hair at her temple dampened by sweat, sticking to her skin. The fine hairs on her cheeks became clearly visible, looking soft and downy.
Stray locks were lifted slightly by the wind, brushing over her moist, reddened lips.
He shouldn’t have paid attention to such things.
“Weaving a bamboo basket.” Mu Daoying replied concisely. He stood up, brushed the grass off his clothes, and handed the nearly finished large basket to her.
Liu Qiao’e took the basket, which was bigger than her head, with a suspicious look. “I didn’t tell you to investigate the case, so you’re just slacking off here?”
She asked again, “When did you learn this?”
In front of her, Mu Daoying unconsciously told her everything without any concealment. “The temple requires disciples to farm and tend their own fields, so I learned these skills from the farmers at the foot of the mountain. It’s not just baskets—I can also weave crickets, little birds, and rabbits. The junior brothers and sisters in the temple loved these when they were young.”
“Weave a little rabbit for me.” Liu Qiao’e ordered casually.
Mu Daoying didn’t refuse. “Milady, please wait a moment.” He bought a bundle of bamboo strips from the old woman. She refused to take his money and insisted on giving them to him, even fetching a small stool for Liu Qiao’e.
Liu Qiao’e propped her chin on her hand and watched him weave the rabbit curiously.
Mu Daoying wove with great focus. Though he came from a scholarly clan, he never had the spoiled temperament of a playboy. He always handled things personally and down-to-earth.
His fair fingers moved nimbly like butterflies. The rabbit soon took shape in his hands. He occasionally lifted his head to glance at her.
Liu Qiao’e was utterly baffled by his stares.
Though his hands moved fluidly, under her gaze, a fine layer of sweat beaded on the tip of Mu Daoying’s nose.
Liu Qiao’e stared at him unblinkingly, completely unaware of the burning intensity in her own eyes.
In his daze, Mu Daoying felt her gaze was even fiercer than the sun on a bright March day.
Mu Daoying had a serene and profound appearance, with thin lips, faint brows, and a straight nose bridge.
At that moment, flushed slightly from the sun, with fine beads of sweat on his slightly upturned nose tip, he looked somewhat adorably embarrassed.
One drop of sweat clung to his superior bone structure, hovering without falling.
As Liu Qiao’e watched, she impulsively pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped it for him.
This action startled both of them.
Mu Daoying flinched in surprise and instinctively grabbed her wrist.
“Milady.” Mu Daoying’s lips moved as he endured, saying forbearingly.
Liu Qiao’e snapped back to her senses, pursed her lips tightly, and her face flushed bright red. “Insolent!”
They were on the main street, so she didn’t dare slap him.
Both tacitly glossed over this little interlude.
Mu Daoying quickened his pace to continue weaving, but sweat seeped from his palm, and his heart pounded wildly.
The tip of his nose still held the sensation and faint fragrance of that handkerchief. The incense Liu Qiao’e used was actually white sandalwood, indistinguishable from his own scent.
Unbidden, he recalled Zhao Yange’s words.
“She might like you!”
Just now, because of that thought, he had kept glancing up at her.
After a while, Mu Daoying couldn’t hold back and looked up to ask, “Milady, why did you save Ying that day?”
Liu Qiao’e was first startled, then grew tense. “Why are you asking about that?!”
“I only have you as my male pet. If I didn’t save you, where would I find my entertainment?” Liu Qiao’e sneered coldly.
Mu Daoying pondered quietly. Something didn’t feel right.
What he wanted to ask was why she had “risked her life” to save him by pushing him out of the cracking ground first.
Perhaps Liu Qiao’e also sensed the weakness in her words and added, “You don’t think a mere ground crack could trap me, do you? That I couldn’t climb back up if I fell in?”
Mu Daoying remained silent.
Liu Qiao’e grew annoyed. “What about you? Why did you save me?!”
Why save her? Mu Daoying thought about it but couldn’t quite explain the reason. He shook his head, not even sure what he was denying. “A drop of water repaid with a gushing spring. Milady saved my life, so Ying naturally must repay it.”
Liu Qiao’e didn’t know what kind of answer she had hoped to hear from Mu Daoying’s mouth.
All she knew was that this answer dissatisfied her greatly—extremely so.
Unsatisfied, she looked left and right, grabbed a bamboo strip, and whipped it at his back with sharp cracks, though she carefully avoided his wound at the center of his back.
Mu Daoying stood up in shock.
The old woman cried out in fright. “Someone’s being beaten! Oh no, madam, don’t hit him!!”
The nearby stalls were packed closely with goods. Mu Daoying retreated again and again, dodging repeatedly, unable to turn around properly. The fresh bamboo strips were thin and long, leaving red welts on his back with each strike. Afraid of alarming the mortals, he turned back and pleaded, “Milady, Milady, please calm your anger.”
Chaos erupted around them instantly. Onlookers crowded in, and two burly, robust men came over to break it up.
One held back Liu Qiao’e, the other grabbed Mu Daoying, separating the two.
Mu Daoying watched the man pulling Liu Qiao’e with trepidation, truly afraid she might lash out and hurt someone on a whim.
Liu Qiao’e’s brows furrowed so tightly they could crush a fly, but she surprisingly didn’t erupt and actually put down the bamboo strip.
Only then did Mu Daoying shift his gaze, imperceptibly relaxing.
That man’s sympathetic gaze caught Mu Daoying’s demeanor and he patted his shoulder comfortingly.
“Brother, I get it. I have a tigress at home too.”
Mu Daoying felt an even bigger headache and sighed. “She’s not my wife.”
The man paused. “She’s not?” His gaze grew even more sympathetic.
Mu Daoying: “…” What had he misunderstood?
The man continued, “Then brother, you’ve got a long road ahead. If you ask me, there are plenty of good girls in this world—why fixate on just this one? She hasn’t even been won over yet, and she’s already beating you on the street. Once you’re married, won’t she give you three beatings a day!
“We men can’t be too henpecked.”
Seeing explanations were futile and not wanting to waste more breath, Mu Daoying let it go.