Mountains rose and fell in succession beneath the bright moon, which poured its clear radiance across the land as silence pervaded in all directions.

Yao Ying approached Tanmoluojia step by step.

The moonlight draped like gauze, while the snow’s gleam was bitingly pure. She walked between moonlight and snow-gleam, her bright dark eyes seeming to ripple with light cascading down from the brilliant Milky Way.

The night wind knocked back her fox-fur hood, loosening her finely braided hair which scattered down, snowflakes among the strands melting into water droplets.

Tanmoluojia lowered his gaze, looking at the pitch-black mountain path.

Had she climbed up here alone?

As footsteps drew closer, Yao Ying came before Tanmoluojia and tilted her face up with a red-tipped nose and slightly curved brows and eyes.

“General Su, Yuan Jue escorted me down the mountain. He had just left when my horse suddenly turned back for some reason. Now it’s pitch dark, I don’t know the way, and I’m scared to be alone in the mountains, so I can only come back to find you, General. Please take me in.”

She spoke each word earnestly, her gaze sincere yet with unmistakable cleverness shining through her tone.

Somehow, it carried a hint of coquettishness.

Because of trust, she felt justified.

Tanmoluojia raised his eyes to look at her once.

Yao Ying stood before him and continued, “By the way, I sent Xie Qing and the others away. There’s no one at the foot of the mountain now. If you won’t take me in, General, I can only return to the Holy City alone.” She paused, then said, “General, although General Ashina has drawn away all the assassins, there will still be people lying in ambush at the courier stations in various towns and tribes. As you’re alone and seriously wounded, it’s bound to raise suspicion. Better to have me along to divert attention.”

Yuan Jue had insisted she and the guards remain outside the Sand City, but she felt this was inappropriate. If assassins discovered her group hadn’t entered the city, they might suspect Su Dangu was still outside the city. She had already sent Xie Qing and the others away.

Tanmoluojia remained silent, his gaze sweeping past Yao Ying’s frost-reddened cheeks to the treacherous rocks beneath the snow.

Yao Ying held her breath, staring at him unblinkingly.

After a while, Tanmoluojia gave a slight nod.

Yao Ying let out a sigh of relief. Seeing the bonfire had gone out, she bent down to open the bulging blue brocade pouch with beast patterns at her waist, taking out flint, striker, and tinder. She crouched by the fire pit, intending to relight the bonfire.

As the night wind howled, she held the striker, found a sheltered spot, and patiently struck the flint again and again. The red and green gems in her braided hair flickered with light.

The striking sounds echoed in the still night.

Tanmoluojia fixed his gaze on the top of Yao Ying’s head, sat cross-legged, and reached out his hand toward her.

Yao Ying immediately placed the striker and flint into his palm stood up, and moved to his side, helping block the wind, her arm touching his.

Up close, she carried the chill of wind and snow, her body trembling slightly.

She feared the cold.

Tanmoluojia’s fingers flicked lightly, striker and flint colliding to spark and ignite the sulfur-coated wood chips.

Yao Ying quickly added more wood chips to the tinder. When yellow flames leaped up, she exhaled, wiped her hands, and rummaged in her brocade pouch again, pulling out several bottles of medicine which she handed to Tanmoluojia.

“These are all medicines for treating wounds. General, please see if any can treat sword wounds…”

After speaking, she took out a folded sable cloak, spread it open, and draped it over Tanmoluojia’s shoulders.

Tanmoluojia sat cross-legged, still maintaining straight shoulders and an elegant posture. Yao Ying had to stand up to put the cloak on him.

As the cloak settled on his shoulders, Tanmoluojia started slightly.

Yao Ying blinked at him and continued arranging his cloak, leaning in closer, her delicate fingers reaching under his chin to tie the cords until she had him completely wrapped up in the windproof cloak. She clapped her hands in satisfaction.

“General, I’m using your cape to keep warm, and your clothes are thin. It’s windy on the mountain, and you’re wounded, so you should wear more.”

The thick cloak wrapped around him blocked the biting night wind. As the bonfire crackled and burned, warmth slowly spread through his body. Tanmoluojia held the medicine Yao Ying had given him, his brows twitching slightly as he fell into thought for a moment, his gaze falling on her.

Yao Ying stood up and walked away quickly. Soon she brought back from her mount a pile of medicines, warming blankets, leather ropes, iron nails, and dry provisions. She sat back by the bonfire, laid out felt blankets, and in the blink of an eye set up a small, open felt tent. She continued adding wood chips to the bonfire, spreading her ice-cold hands toward the fire to warm them.

The man-high felt tent blocked the cold wind from behind, making the bonfire burn more vigorously. The dancing warm yellow firelight cast on her face showed cheeks like fresh lychees and a gentle, beautiful profile.

After warming herself by the fire for a while, Yao Ying withdrew her heated hands, rubbed their backs, knocked her frozen legs, broke off a piece of hard nang bread to place over the bonfire, and brewed medicinal soup in a small clay pot.

After bustling about for quite some time, she noticed Tanmoluojia watching her and looked up at him.

“Did I disturb your meditation, General?”

She kept her voice very low, as if afraid of disturbing him.

Tanmoluojia shook his head.

Yao Ying smiled and said, “Please focus on your cultivation, General, 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 Yuan Jue, and he said you can drink some nourishing medicinal soup.”

Tanmoluojia closed his eyes.

Yao Ying sat beside him, chin propped in her hands, quietly gazing at him.

She had gotten the cloak, flint, and striker from Xie Qing.

When Yuan Jue escorted her down the mountain, she had tried to persuade him the whole way that he needn’t look after her and should attend to his urgent matters first. But Yuan Jue was single-minded and insisted on escorting her down the mountain, only leaving after delivering her back to Xie Qing.

The corpses on the mountain path had already been collected and buried by the imperial guards. Bi Suo had taken most of the guards away, while Xie Qing had stayed behind waiting for Yao Ying.

Yao Ying was worried about leaving the severely wounded Su Dangu alone on the mountain. She had Xie Qing catch up with Bi Suo to create the illusion that she was traveling with them, while she gathered some clothes, provisions, medicines, and leather ropes for setting up the tent, then returned alone.

The joke about her horse getting spooked and running back was just that – a joke.

On many nights, Su Dangu had silently protected her. Now Su Dangu was wounded and needed to conceal his presence. She was one of the few who knew of his injury and wouldn’t leak the secret, so she should stay to watch over him.

…

The bonfire burned quietly.

Fearing the cold, Yao Ying wrapped herself in layer after layer of blankets like a round furball, keeping watch beside Tanmoluojia.

As the night deepened, she was exhausted in body and mind and couldn’t help dozing off, her head nodding up and down. Suddenly she jerked awake and immediately looked toward Tanmoluojia.

He sat motionless.

Yao Ying let out a breath of relief and continued dozing. In her drowsy state, she heard the person beside her breathing heavily, and suddenly awoke fully, rushing to Tanmoluojia’s side.

Tanmoluojia’s lips were pale, his shoulders trembling slightly as he shakily opened a medicine bottle, his breathing disordered.

Yao Ying snatched the medicine bottle, pulled out the stopper, poured out the pills, and brought them to Tanmoluojia’s lips, frowning as she asked, “Why didn’t you wake me, General?”

Tanmoluojia took the medicine, feeling her soft fingertips brush his lips. A strange sensation welled up in his heart, and he drew back slightly.

Yao Ying looked at him, their gazes meeting intensely.

Tanmoluojia closed his eyes to regulate his breathing. After an unknown time, when he opened his eyes again, he immediately met a serious gaze.

Yao Ying’s lips were lightly pressed together. Wrapped in layers of blankets, wearing a pointed felt hat and fur neck warmer, she looked like a solemn pagoda, her expression focused as she stared at him coldly.

Who knew how long she had been glaring at him, her eyes slightly red-rimmed.

Seeing him open his eyes, Yao Ying’s gaze intensified, carrying an implicit question.

Tanmoluojia recalled what had just happened, thought for a moment, and said softly, “If I have another attack, I’ll certainly wake the Princess and ask for your help.”

Yao Ying’s expression softened as she nodded: “General, don’t endure alone. You must wake me.”

As she nodded, her felt hat wobbled, like a pagoda swaying before his eyes.

As if a wisp of cloud passed by, its shadow reflecting on a lake’s surface, the horrifying visions in his hallucination faded away, leaving only a warm bonfire, a small drafty felt tent, clear skies, and a pure mind.

Tanmoluojia closed his eyes.

Having received his promise, Yao Ying still didn’t dare sleep. She stayed alert, watching the medicinal soup in the bonfire, hearing it bubble and boil, lifting the lid to smell it.

Tanmoluojia’s form swayed.

Yao Ying looked up at him, eyes widening, quickly dropped the lid, and rushed forward, catching him before he fell.

Tanmoluojia’s body was burning hot; even through the thick cloak, Yao Ying could feel it.

She undid the ties at his neck, slipped her fingers inside, and felt his neck – it was covered in sweat.

“Do you need to take medicine again?”

Yao Ying asked worriedly, reaching for the medicine bottle.

Tanmoluojia’s whole body trembled lightly, his voice broken: “No… the poison in the wound is acting up…”

Yao Ying’s brows furrowed tightly, her hands trembling along with Tanmoluojia: “Then what should we do? How can I make you more comfortable?”

Yuan Jue had mentioned to her that the assassins’ blades were poisoned. He had taken antidote medication that would save his life, but the poison would still flare up.

Tanmoluojia’s neck and body were drenched in sweat as if he’d been pulled from the water, his lips taking on an eerie redness.

“I’m fine… Princess need not be afraid…” His brows tightly knitted, voice deep, “Just need to get through it.”

Yao Ying froze.

He was worried she would be afraid and panic, so he was comforting her.

When going down the mountain, Yao Ying had asked Yuan Jue: “When the Regent was wounded before, was he always alone?”

Yuan Jue nodded, saying quietly: “When the Regent showed signs of losing control of his martial arts, we only had one option: leave medicine and stay far away from him, the farther the better.”

Yao Ying looked back at the mountain ridges where wild winds swept, envisioning his solitary figure.

He bore the name of a bloodthirsty killer, came and went alone, was detested and cursed by others, and even when wounded remained solitary.

Staying far away from him was better for everyone.

But what about him?

The body in her arms was tall and straight – usually standing there like majestic mountains, full of tension, making people feel secure.

Now he was burning hot all over, trembling in waves, yet still remembered to comfort her, his tone calm, as if completely unconcerned with his own life or death.

Yao Ying’s heart quivered, her eyes growing moist as she gently laid Tanmoluojia down on the spread-felt blankets. She had just moved the bonfire, and the stones beneath the blankets were dry and warm.

“I’m not afraid, General Su.”

Yao Ying wrung out a cloth to wipe Tanmoluojia’s sweat, trying not to touch his chin or wounds.

“I’m just worried about you.”

Tanmoluojia lay by the bonfire, his jade eyes carrying a hint of haziness as he looked at her. After a while, he closed his eyes tiredly.

Yao Ying continued wiping his sweat. Seeing he was soaked through, she carefully undid his clothes.

The skin revealed had a light wheat color, tight and firm, with a rich luster. His shoulders and back were broad, muscle lines clearly defined, covered in a layer of smooth, oily sweat – burning hot wherever accidentally touched.

Looking further down, blood had seeped through the gauze wrapped around his wound.

Yao Ying’s mind went blank for a moment before she quickly removed Tanmoluojia’s clothes, applied new medicine, changed him into the clothes she had brought, put on the brocade robe, and then covered him with felt blankets.

Yao Ying had cared for the wounded Xie Qing before and knew how to change dressings for injured people. Her movements were practiced, though after all the effort she was still left panting and sweating profusely.

Tanmoluojia had fallen unconscious.

Yao Ying leaned down to feel his forehead and neck. Sensing he wasn’t as hot anymore, she let out a long breath. Her fingers inadvertently brushed across the scar on his face – the scar tissue was somewhat rough.

Tanmoluojia stirred, his brows furrowing.

Yao Ying withdrew her hand, using the cloth to gently dab around his cheeks, her movements soft.

The night wind beat against the felt tent as the bonfire occasionally crackled.

Yao Ying didn’t know how long she had kept watch. Her mind grew weary, eyelids sticking together. She struggled to lift them, coming to awareness to reach out and feel Tanmoluojia’s forehead, then collapsed by the felt blankets to rest her eyes.

The cold wind rushed into the tent, chilling to the bone where it touched. In her hazy consciousness, Yao Ying fumbled for a wool blanket to cover herself before falling asleep.

…

In the late night, as the burning sensation faded, a bone-deep ache rolled through his limbs. Tanmoluojia’s body grew cold in waves, feeling as if he was continuously falling, sinking deeper and deeper into ice that hadn’t melted for ten thousand years.

His surroundings suddenly turned dark – fierce ghosts laughing cruelly, mountains of blades and forests of swords, bones scattered everywhere, stern iron walls stretching for ten thousand li. He drifted aimlessly, hearing the wailing of countless ghosts, with nowhere to take refuge.

He knew the visions were false. Instinctively reaching out to grasp the warmth beside him, he didn’t know what he had caught, but it felt soft and smooth, like fine cream, delicate and tender, with faint traces of sweet fragrance.

In his confused state, Tanmoluojia tightened his arm, carefully drawing this bit of warm softness into his embrace, not letting her be frightened by the blue-faced, fang-bearing fierce ghosts around them.

The softness struggled slightly in his arms. He tightened his embrace, his arms firmly restraining her. The fierce ghosts retreated, black smoke dissipated, his body gradually warmed, and his heart peaceful as he sank into dreams.

The next day, fish-belly white appeared on the horizon.

Mist and clouds curled through the valley, snow flying everywhere.

A layer of thin ice had formed outside the felt tent. Morning light broke through the clouds, pouring down as the icicles reflected dazzling rays.

Tanmoluojia slowly opened his eyes, jade gaze fixed on the felt tent above, gradually coming to awareness. He raised his hand to get up when his palm met with a strange soft sensation.

His brows twitched as he came to his senses. Looking down, he saw the top of Yao Ying’s glossy black hair pressed against his shoulder.

Layers of wool blankets blocked the cold wind. He lay in the tent with her entire body curled up in his arms, facing him sideways, her cheeks flushed red, black braids scattered loose, the colored ribbons binding her hair hanging loosely, disheveled strands tangled around his arms and hands.

She was still asleep, breathing evenly, her right hand tightly clutching a cloth.

Tanmoluojia remembered the scene before he had passed out the previous night. His thick brows furrowed slightly as he withdrew his arm.

Yao Ying made a sound in her sleep.

Tanmoluojia paused, saw she hadn’t awakened, then slowly released her, tucked the fleece blanket around her, pressed down the corners, and rose to exit the felt tent.

The morning wind scattered the clouds and mist. Standing at the cliff’s edge looking out in all directions, there were no clouds for ten thousand li as the dawn light shone brilliantly.