After all these years, debts of gratitude and grudges have been borne. In midnight dreams, hearing ravens cry and rain on the evening bridge, I always think: the realm is like a dream, and so are you.

—Inscription

Some time had passed since the incident at the cliff, and Luo Mo had been caring for Xiao Yu at the Mountain Valley estate during his recovery.

Though Zhong Lin had become the Sect Leader, there were still many things he didn’t understand. Following old habits, when others couldn’t figure something out or had problems they couldn’t solve, they would still come to ask her.

Only now they no longer called her “Sect Leader,” but instead addressed her as “Teacher,” which made sense since most people in the sect were indeed her disciples.

And since they called her “Teacher,” naturally when they ran into Xiao Yu, they would casually address him as “Teacher’s Spouse.”

Being called the Teacher’s Spouse so often made the former Rui Emperor uncomfortable. One day, he delicately mentioned this to Luo Mo. Though she initially didn’t care to address it, seeing his rather pitiful expression, she asked Zhong Lin and the others why they insisted on calling him “Teacher’s Spouse.”

Zhong Lin, being straightforward, opened his eyes wide in surprise and said, “Can we not call him Teacher’s Spouse? Teacher, are you not planning to give him proper status?”

The former Rui Emperor, eavesdropping behind the curtain, felt blood surge to his throat, leaving him uncomfortably stuck between spitting it out or swallowing it back.

To Wu Shui, the Guardian who was known for being flirtatious and speaking without much regard for elders’ dignity, the matter was much simpler. She laughed and said, “Teacher, when you’ve hidden such beauty here, of course, we have to call him Teacher’s Spouse. Calling him Teacher’s Lord would be too strange!”

She then sneaked a glance behind the curtain and continued, “Speaking of which, Teacher, you should take Teacher’s Spouse out more often. Isn’t it stifling to keep such a beauty locked away? Even though Young Master Xiao has left, Teacher’s Spouse is still truly gorgeous.”

Indeed, everyone in the Lingbi Sect was particularly fond of the Xiao family’s looks. When Xiao Huan was still in the sect, people would practically line up just to catch a glimpse of him.

Moreover, since Xiao Yu had his heart meridian severed and was pulled back from death’s door, he had not only grown much thinner but also, without his mask, revealed that face so similar to Xiao Huan’s—or rather, Xiao Huan had resembled him. He no longer carried that domineering aura from his days as Gui Wuchang. Every day, he wore white robes with his hair half-loosened while recuperating in the estate, his graying temples adding a touch of haggard beauty.

In Wu Shui’s words, he was “delicate and fragile, stirring tender feelings in all who saw him.” Not calling him Teacher’s Spouse would make their hearts ache with guilt.

After gathering her disciples’ opinions and relating them to Xiao Yu, Luo Mo could only helplessly conclude, “They’re all children I’ve raised, used to having their way. There’s no controlling them.”

Indeed, weren’t they used to having their way? Wasn’t the Lingbi Sect’s main hall called the “Hall of No Rules” after all?

Hearing this answer, the former Emperor, weak from illness and prone to overthinking, assumed this was Luo Mo’s new method of allowing her disciples to humiliate him.

He forced an elegant smile, though his heart churned with distress. His currently fragile heart meridian easily became unstable, and when he spoke, there was already a faint taste of blood in his throat: “If that’s the case… then there’s nothing to be done.”

Luo Mo, who prided herself on being a kind teacher, couldn’t possibly scold her disciples over their well-intentioned form of address. She calmly nodded and said, “That’s how it must be.”

His deep eyes flickered, and Xiao Yu also forced a smile, his pale face struggling to suppress the blood rising in his throat: “Thank you for your trouble, Mo’er.”

Unfortunately, Luo Mo didn’t notice his convoluted thoughts, simply responding with a casual “you’re welcome” before dropping the matter entirely.

Days passed slowly, and soon came a rather special festival—special because it wasn’t celebrated elsewhere, only the Lingbi Sect held ceremonies for it. And the way they celebrated was unique: with fireworks.

For this joyous festival, Luo Mo made a special appearance at the main hall. When night fell and the fireworks ceremony began, she even had a few drinks.

Because of this, she was delayed in returning to the estate. When she got back, Xiao Yu had already finished dinner and taken his medicine. Seeing her return, he hesitantly asked, “What festival is today? I don’t know of it.”

He would have been better off not asking—the moment he did, Luo Mo’s expression turned cold. This day was a scar on her heart; even now, while she could remain calm when others asked about it, she absolutely couldn’t stay composed when he inquired.

She immediately let out a cold snort, her tone almost returning to the iciness of their former antagonism: “It’s not a festival. It’s just the death anniversary of someone Your Majesty has long forgotten… the true anniversary.”

With that, she didn’t even look at Xiao Yu again, flicking her sleeve as she went inside to bathe and sober up.

She had only shown a small burst of temper, but when she came out after washing, she saw Xiao Yu still sitting in the chair outside, either unable or unwilling to move, his face frost-white, fingers pressed tightly against his chest.

Seeing him like this, Luo Mo couldn’t help but feel somewhat exasperated: how had someone previously so impervious to weapons become so sensitive that he couldn’t even handle a harsh word, constantly clutching his chest like a delicate flower? And yet he didn’t like being called Teacher’s Spouse?

Despite these thoughts, Luo Mo still went over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He lowered his head and coughed lightly, and when he looked up at her again, his face wore a forced smile: “Mo’er, I’m fine, you should go rest first…”

But his words were insincere—before he could finish speaking, his face grew even paler, and he bit his lip, turning his head to spit out a mouthful of blood onto the ground.

Seeing him suddenly cough up blood again, Luo Mo finally became alarmed. She quickly grabbed his wrist to check his meridians, and what she found immediately threw her into a panic.

His heart meridian had been forcibly reconnected in the pond below Falling Sun Cliff, naturally making it much weaker. To be precise, it was even more fragile than Xiao Huan’s, which, though weak, had never been severed.

Even so, he hadn’t suffered any external forces these days and had been consistently taking medicine to recover. He should have been getting better day by day, but when she checked just now, she was shocked to find his internal energy chaotic and his heart meridian hanging by a thread—clearly showing signs of imminent danger.

She didn’t dare delay any longer. While sending a signal with the bell, she immediately wrapped an arm around his waist and carried him to the bed in the inner chamber. Fearing he would have trouble breathing if he lay down, she supported his body, letting him half-lean against her shoulder while placing her hand on his dantian to channel gentle internal energy into his meridians.

Despite such careful attention, he still kept coughing softly between labored breaths, blood continuously seeping from the corner of his mouth. He had held it back too forcefully earlier, to the point where now he couldn’t even cough up the blood properly.

Knowing how harsh the Xiao family could be on themselves, Luo Mo took a deep breath to steady herself, then used her sleeve to cushion his lips as she coaxed softly, “Yu, don’t hold it back, spit it out first.”

He followed her words and coughed up two mouthfuls of blood. His deep eyes cleared slightly, and he raised his hand to loosely grip her fingers, looking straight at her. The smile at the corner of his lips took on an ethereal quality: “When I first woke up at the bottom of the pond… I thought you wouldn’t let me die because such a death would have been too easy for me…”

Luo Mo remembered his gaze when he first opened his eyes then, as still as dead water without a ripple. Her heart inexplicably ached, and she lowered her head to place a light kiss on his pale lips, her voice growing even gentler in comfort: “I didn’t want you to die because I couldn’t bear to let you go.”

His gaze at her filled with more attachment, his voice growing softer: “I never thought in this life I would receive even a moment of your kindness… These days I’ve often felt perhaps I was being foolishly delusional… lost in a dream without knowing…”

Hearing his voice grow weaker with each word, and noting the ominous undertones, Luo Mo hurriedly interrupted him, saying urgently: “Stop talking about such nonsense, steady your breath and stabilize your internal energy, Xiao Qing will be here soon.”

He curved his lips in another smile, not only ignoring her words but continuing to speak, his voice weak yet saturated with weariness: “Mo’er… whether this is a dream or not… I am… too tired…”

Luo Mo couldn’t believe he would die at this moment—after all, how could someone like Xiao Yu, who had survived the brink of death several times, suddenly die while everything seemed peaceful?

Yet he just kept looking at her with deep attachment, then raised his hand, his slightly cool fingertips gently sliding across her cheek, his voice so faint it seemed about to scatter with the wind: “If you truly could let go from here… find someone who can really make you happy… someone like Fei Qi…”

Those were the words he hadn’t finished saying when she ran him through with her sword on the mountain cliff. So he had wanted her to find someone else. Luo Mo couldn’t grab his hand, could only hold his shoulders tightly as she said through gritted teeth: “Fei Qi was you.”

He smiled slightly, blood still trickling from the corner of his mouth, staining a large patch of his white robes red. His breath weak, he said: “Yes, but you wouldn’t believe it…”

Luo Mo watched in alarm as his gaze began to scatter—a sign of impending death. She hurriedly tried to comfort him: “Yu, I believe you, I believed long ago… When you’re better, shall I take you back to Jiangnan to see our little courtyard?”

Hearing this, the corner of his mouth curved slightly, and a hint of yearning appeared in those deep eyes, but the light in them grew dimmer. He said softly: “Today is Brother’s death anniversary…”

He had only gotten as far as the word “Brother” when his face grew even paler, his brows tightly knitted—an expression of utmost pain.

Luo Mo silently cursed herself for bringing up such a topic, of all things. She quickly held him tighter and comforted him gently: “You know how much the Crown Prince loved fireworks, and now is the season for watching them, so I just let the children set off some for celebration… It was my fault for not inviting you to watch. Shall we go together next time?”

She hastily added a promise: “Or I can have them set off more tomorrow, and we’ll watch then!”

His dimmed gaze still lingered repeatedly over her face as he smiled faintly again: “That would be nice… Every year on this day, you must think of Brother first…”

After saying this, his long lashes lowered slightly, and his body relaxed as if overcome with fatigue, his hand that had been loosely holding hers silently slipping away.

Luo Mo’s heart turned cold, and she quickly hugged him, calling out: “Yu! Xiao Yu! If you dare pretend to be dead again, I’ll kill you myself!”

When Qing Li rushed into their bedchamber carrying her medicine box, this was the scene she saw: their former Great Sect Leader and Teacher desperately holding their Teacher’s Spouse, whose chest was stained with a large patch of crimson, a streak of bright red blood at the corner of his colorless lips.

The scene was as tragic as it was beautiful, enough to bring tears to any observer’s eyes… if one could ignore what their Teacher was saying.

Hurriedly rushing over to insert silver needles to preserve their Teacher’s Spouse’s last breath, Qing Li gestured for Luo Mo to lay Xiao Yu on the bed for treatment while saying: “I say, Teacher, with Teacher’s Spouse in this state, you shouldn’t torment him anymore. How can you bear to treat such a beauty this way?”

Seeing that Xiao Yu’s chest still rose and fell slightly—his breathing extremely weak but at least still present—Luo Mo had just begun to relax slightly when this comment caught her off guard. After a moment, she said: “I haven’t done anything.”

Zhong Lin and Wu Shui had already rushed over, and now they all gathered around the bed, looking worriedly at their Teacher’s Spouse. Wu Shui even sighed: “Though I know Teacher’s Spouse looks even more beautiful this way, Teacher, you should think about the future. Always being on the brink of death isn’t sustainable.”

Luo Mo turned to look at the undisguised concern on all her disciples’ faces, along with their accusations toward her, and her mouth twitched slightly: “I remember you were quite enthusiastic when I had you hunt down Gui Wuchang before.”

The Lingbi Sect members recalled the previous appearance of “Gui Wuchang”: always wearing a large gray robe that covered his body, face hidden behind an extremely ordinary mask.

So they all shook their heads: “That’s because we didn’t know Teacher’s Spouse looked like this! If we had known, we would have focused more on flirting and less on hunting!”

This reminded Luo Mo of how when she had these unruly disciples hunt down Xiao Huan years ago, they hadn’t put in any real effort either, instead spending hundreds of miles just following and flirting with him.

As old and new grudges surged in her heart, Luo Mo’s eyelid twitched several times: “Do you think I’m too soft-hearted to send you all to the back mountain for reflection?”

The disciples shook their heads in unison, pointing at Zhong Lin: “Teacher, now Little Zhong is the Sect Leader, only her word counts.”

Zhong Lin, whose experience was already shallow and who had been pushed into the Sect Leader position like a duck to water, quickly raised both hands in goodwill to her senior disciples: “How could I possibly make everyone face the wall? Haha.”

Luo Mo fell silent, while the others had already started chatting. Wu Shui stroked her chin and said: “Speaking of which, Young Master Xiao’s appearance, though truly beautiful, didn’t look like a Sect Leader. I had wondered before who he resembled, but after seeing the Teacher’s Spouse’s true face, it all became clear… Come to think of it, Teacher’s Spouse couldn’t have been ugly, right? How else could Teacher have been so fixated all these years?”

The others nodded repeatedly in agreement. By the looks of it, Xiao Yu hadn’t done anything yet, but his face alone had already won over the entire Lingbi Sect.

After a moment of speechlessness, Luo Mo spoke languidly: “So all you children just judge by looks?”

The group admitted this with absolute righteousness: “Teacher taught us well!”

Luo Mo was completely lost for words at this point. The conversation had already moved on, with Wu Shui again taking the lead: “Speaking of which, Ban Le, where’s your Manager Feng? Why hasn’t he been around these days? Looking at just one beauty, no matter how beautiful, gets a bit monotonous.”

Ban Le let out a light snort: “I told him not to keep coming to the main hall. Don’t you know there are too many wolves here?”

Wu Shui immediately responded with a meaningful tone: “Heh, are you talking about me?”

Seeing they were about to start arguing again, Luo Mo wearily waved her hand: “Everyone except Qing Li, get out. Don’t disturb my beauty.”

Zhong Lin quietly ducked her head: “Hehe, ‘my beauty’… and you say you don’t care…”

Being the most sensible, she quickly pulled the others away before Luo Mo’s glare could reach her.

Qing Li remained serious, and after administering acupuncture to Xiao Yu, she said to Luo Mo: “Teacher’s Spouse was truly in danger this time. That potent medicine he had me prepare earlier might be worth trying.”

After coming up from the cliff bottom, while Xiao Huan hadn’t yet departed, Xiao Yu and Luo Mo naturally avoided him. During this time, Xiao Yu had given Qing Li a prescription, saying some ingredients were hard to find and only available in the Lingbi Sect, asking her to prepare them.

Looking at the prescription, Qing Li knew it was specifically for preserving life—even with just one breath left, one pill could probably sustain someone for three to five days. The preparation wasn’t difficult, but one or two ingredients were indeed rare products from Northern Yunnan. Besides the Lingbi Sect, they could probably only be found in the isolated Tibetan regions.

Upon receiving it, she didn’t think too much and immediately began preparing the medicine. However, the ingredients were limited, so she only made ten pills. Once finished, she gave them to Xiao Yu, who presumably stored them away, as they hadn’t been used since.

Luo Mo naturally knew about this but hadn’t intervened, just watching Xiao Yu arrange for these medicines to be prepared. She had thought to herself that the former Emperor De Lun was indeed careful about preserving his life, going to such lengths to prepare for contingencies at the slightest sign of illness.

When Xiao Yu received the bottle of pills, he didn’t hide it, just placing it in the small cabinet in the bedroom. Hearing this, Luo Mo got up to retrieve it, taking out one pill and placing it in his mouth.

His meridians were too weak now, and the pill was potent, so he could only hold it in his mouth to let the medicine’s power slowly flow into his body.

Under the combined effects of the medicine and silver needles, after a while, Xiao Yu’s breathing indeed became heavier, and his face no longer looked deathly pale. Only then did Luo Mo breathe a sigh of relief, slowly sitting down beside the bed.

Seeing her condition, Qing Li could only sigh: “Teacher’s Spouse probably won’t wake until tomorrow. Teacher, you’ll need to take care of him.”

Luo Mo raised her hand wearily to wave at her, indicating it was fine.

Sure enough, Xiao Yu didn’t regain consciousness until the next afternoon, having slept for almost twelve hours. During this time, Luo Mo had been feeding him ginseng soup as a meal.

Having been anxious all night, barely daring to close her eyes, Luo Mo was naturally happy to see him wake. She quickly helped him sit up, supported him, and tried to feed him the warm white fungus soup she had prepared earlier.

However, after just two spoonfuls of the smooth soup to moisten his throat, he frowned slightly, looking at the porcelain bottle on the bedside cabinet, and asked: “Who gave me this medicine?”

His voice was still very weak, but his tone carried a hint of interrogation. Having been accustomed to being emperor, even after years in the jianghu, once he became slightly serious, he still carried that air of imperial authority.

Luo Mo was slightly stunned, not wanting to argue with him, and casually answered: “Qing Li said you were in grave danger, so I took out the medicine. From yesterday until today, you’ve taken two pills.”

Hearing he had already taken two pills, Xiao Yu’s brows furrowed even tighter, his tone not very pleasant: “This medicine was specifically prepared for Huan’er, I just hadn’t had time to send it to him. Why was it used on me?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Luo Mo at all. She had assumed Xiao Yu had prepared it for himself. Only now did she remember that by the time the medicine was ready after several days of preparation, Xiao Huan had already departed for the capital.

And Zhong Lin, who had escorted him there, wouldn’t return to the Central Plains for several more days after returning to the main hall.

But Xiao Yu’s tone also made her somewhat angry, and she let out a light snort: “If I hadn’t given it to you, yesterday would have been your death anniversary next year. Besides, you never said it was for Huan’er. I thought Your Majesty had specially kept it for your survival.”

Xiao Yu naturally heard the impatience and anger in her tone. Over these years, he had grown accustomed to her speaking to him this way—yesterday’s tender affection while he was semi-conscious was rare. He couldn’t even tell if that had been a hallucination from his weakness or if it had happened.

He had never been one to respond to Luo Mo’s provocative or sarcastic remarks. After hearing her, he merely pressed his thin lips together and said nothing more.

Seeing his face, which had just improved slightly, turn pale again, Luo Mo didn’t dare say anything more. She silently fed him a few more spoonfuls of soup.

This time Xiao Yu cooperated, though eating slowly and occasionally coughing. He managed to finish nearly half a bowl, but his brows remained furrowed, carrying an inexplicable weariness.

In the following days, under Qing Li’s careful treatment, he improved somewhat and could get up and move around on his own. However, he became even more silent than before, spending his days either arranging chess pieces while studying game records or sitting in the corridor with a book for hours.

He had also developed a habit of falling into occasional trances. One rainy day, when Luo Mo walked to the corridor, she saw him completely absorbed in watching the falling rain, his gaze lowered, lost in thought, the book in his hand had slipped to the ground, and one arm extended outside the corridor was half-soaked by the rain.

The summer rain in Northern Yunnan was unlike that of the Central Plains, being quite cold. Given his current weak condition, Luo Mo hurried over to grab his wrist and pull his arm back. When she touched him, his skin was indeed ice-cold, almost not feeling like that of a living person.

Only then did he come back to his senses, turning his head to see her. He seemed momentarily dazed before curving his lips in a smile and softly calling out: “Mo’er.”

Annoyed at his lack of self-care, she kept a cold face and didn’t respond. He just smiled again and supported himself on the railing to stand up. Perhaps from sitting too long, his body swayed slightly, momentarily unsteady.

Luo Mo instinctively reached out to support him but saw him slightly turn away from her hand, reaching out to steady himself against a corridor pillar before straightening up and brushing past her.

Luo Mo was momentarily stunned, watching his thin figure in flowing robes walk away down the corridor. Only then did she belatedly wonder if his clothes were too thin.

This wasn’t entirely her fault. She dressed simply, wearing the same light green gauze robes year-round. When he arrived, his previous clothes were tattered and bloodstained, naturally discarded, so she had the sect members bring over the daily wear of the male disciples.

So he had been wearing these simple, elegant white robes all along. However, Yunnan was bitter cold, and whether sect disciples or herself, they all had internal energy to ward off the cold, not fearing the chill.

Though Xiao Yu still had internal energy, his body was weak and constantly ill, naturally not comparable to them. When Xiao Huan was here, he always dressed more heavily than the sect members, wearing an extra cloak over his outer garments.

As she was thinking about this, considering whether to have someone bring some warm clothes, Li Ban Le took action first.

This little demon king came together with the great demon king Wu Shui, happily carrying a snow-blue cloak made of fox fur and silk blend, with delicate embroidery. It could both keep warm and look elegantly beautiful.

Li Ban Le said quite happily: “I noticed the Teacher’s Spouse always wears such thin clothes and keeps coughing. This clothing was originally made when I found fabric and tailors for Jiang. Teacher’s Spouse and Jiang are about the same height and build, and there was extra fabric, so I had them make another piece to bring for Teacher’s Spouse.”

Back when Xiao Yu was still a prince and emperor, when had he ever worried about his clothing? The palace had enough of his clothes to fill an entire room, and every season change brought new batches of tribute garments from the Imperial Textile Bureau. Some were never even worn before being sealed in storage.

Even later when he was wandering the jianghu, his internal energy was profound, and he dressed more for disguise needs, not caring about thickness or material.

Therefore, Luo Mo hadn’t noticed his clothes were too thin, and he hadn’t paid attention either. Now being presented with clothes, he was surprised and somewhat happy.

Luo Mo saw that the style and material of the cloak seemed quite to his liking, and his eyes showed a faint pleasure as he reached out to accept it, smiling in thanks: “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Miss Li.”

Li Ban Le also cheerfully replied: “It’s nothing, just passing on another’s flowers. As long as Teacher’s Spouse doesn’t mind it being the same as Jiang’s.”

As she spoke, she went around to help Xiao Yu put on the cloak. They were all essentially children raised by Luo Mo—if Luo Mo was their mother, then Xiao Yu was naturally their father. This gesture was purely filial and didn’t seem out of place at all.

Everyone knew Li Ban Le’s relationship with Feng Yuan Jiang, so clothes specially made for him must have been carefully chosen—the material, color, and style all meticulously selected. The warm cloak, filled with care and consideration, fell on Xiao Yu’s shoulders, bringing out a different kind of radiance in his overly pale complexion.

Adjusting the clothing on his shoulders, Xiao Yu smiled and thanked Li Ban Le again.

Like Xiao Huan, he usually liked to maintain a slight smile when at ease. He had been smiling often these days, but this time it was more cheerful than usual, his eyes curved, gaze flowing, captivating even Li Ban Le who was devoted to her own beautiful Jiang.

Wu Shui was even more affected, sitting opposite and almost staring, immediately turning to whisper to Luo Mo: “Teacher, can I come to bring clothes for the Teacher’s Spouse every day?”

Seeing Xiao Yu’s smile mixed with satisfaction and happiness, Luo Mo felt an inexplicable faint bitterness in her heart… Though it was just a small matter, she spent every day with him yet had been so negligent that he could be so delighted just from receiving clothes from the children.

When Wu Shui and Ban Le were leaving, Luo Mo pulled aside her senior disciple and said: “Have the sect disciples make several more sets of clothes according to your Teacher’s Spouse’s build and send them over—both outer and inner garments. Make several good cloaks too. Your Teacher’s Spouse likes blue-green and black colors, with minimal embroidery and trim, keeping it simple.”

Having been Xiao Yu’s subordinate and empress for many years, she had some understanding of his preferences, and could still speak of them easily now.

Wu Shui agreed, making faces at her teacher: “Teacher, be a bit nicer to the Teacher’s Spouse. Even I feel heartache seeing him like this.”

Luo Mo raised her hand to give her a knock on the head, scolding: “Aren’t you leaving yet?”

But when Luo Mo turned back, she saw Xiao Yu taking off the cloak again, seemingly intending to fold it and put it away. She immediately went over to stop his hands: “Aren’t you cold? Didn’t you like it? What are you doing?”

Xiao Yu looked up at her in slight surprise, explaining: “It’s just indoors, not that cold. With only one outer garment, I thought to save it for going out.”

It was just a cloak, yet he was being so precious about it. Luo Mo felt somewhat angry at his lack of assertiveness and said coldly: “I’ve already asked Wu Shui to have more made and sent over. Wear it if you should wear it.”

Hearing her displeased tone, Xiao Yu didn’t know what he had done to upset her, and could only force a slight smile and quietly agree, though he didn’t pick up the cloak to put it on again.

Touching his hands, Luo Mo found them indeed ice-cold. She wanted to help him put on the clothes, but after years of maintaining a cold demeanor, she found it difficult to lower her pride. She could only let out another cold snort and walk away in anger.

Wu Shui was always efficient in handling matters. The next day, she brought over a pile of new clothes, including three cloaks in purple, black, and white. She couldn’t say these were actually Xu Lai and Liu Huaixue’s new clothes that she had appropriated, so she claimed they were made overnight, promising to make several more pieces for Teacher’s Spouse every month—they absolutely couldn’t let such a beauty suffer.

As usual, Xiao Yu accepted them with thanks. Afterward, he would alternate between wearing the different cloaks in the house, but that snow-blue one remained preciously folded in the cabinet. It seemed he truly intended to save it for going out and important occasions.

Looking at him, Luo Mo felt somewhat helpless. For a moment, she felt like a bandit chief who had forcibly abducted a beautiful man as a captive, yet no matter what she did, she couldn’t win the beauty’s heart—a strange kind of frustration.

After the clothing incident, the more leisurely disciples from the main hall, like Wu Shui and Ban Le, would often come to chat with Xiao Yu, always bringing small gifts.

Luo Mo would busy herself with reading, writing, and practicing martial arts, giving Xiao Yu more time to interact with the disciples.

He possessed the talent of an emperor and had wandered the jianghu for so many years; just those experiences alone made for stories as captivating as adventure novels.

So the disciples particularly enjoyed pestering him with questions, calling him “Teacher’s Spouse” with great affection. By this point, Xiao Yu understood that the children’s use of “Teacher’s Spouse” carried no mockery or teasing, but rather closeness, so he no longer minded.

This day, Wu Shui mysteriously brought over an ancient scroll map, saying it was of a tomb left by the ancient Dian kingdom, located near the main hall. She had always wanted to explore it but was stopped by Luo Mo, who said not to look for trouble unnecessarily.

The tomb wasn’t particularly mysterious, just filled with many mechanisms. If there was nothing important inside, it truly wasn’t worth the risk, so Wu Shui had been gradually mapping and studying the mechanisms on the ancient scroll over the years, treating it as a hobby for idle time.

Due to Xiao Hui’s influence, Xiao Yu had some expertise with mechanisms. After looking at it, he casually pointed out a few things that gave Wu Shui sudden insight.

Thus Wu Shui and Ban Le, who always loved joining in on the excitement, became enthusiastic and, seeing Luo Mo was still in closed cultivation, tried to persuade Xiao Yu to go explore with them.

Having been confined to the house for so many days, and with his body and spirits both decent these past few days, plus not wanting to disappoint the two children, Xiao Yu considered that even if he didn’t go along, seeing Wu Shui and Ban Le’s enthusiasm, they would eventually go by themselves.

Though their martial arts and lightness skills were first-rate, they lacked combat experience, often falling short in critical moments due to insufficient adaptability—this was why they had lost to Xiao Huan before. If they went alone, they might get hurt by the mechanisms.

So after weighing the options, he decided to go with Wu Shui and Ban Le, even wearing the snow-blue cloak that Ban Le had given him, much to her delight.

The process in the ancient tomb needn’t be described in detail. The three of them, with their profound lightness skills, barely gathered any dust. The tomb indeed contained nothing special except for what appeared to be a joint burial coffin.

However, when leaving, Ban Le accidentally triggered a mechanism, and the three had to scramble somewhat clumsily to dodge a barrage of hidden weapons.

After landing, Xiao Yu first checked on Wu Shui and Ban Le. Seeing them unharmed, he finally relaxed and smiled: “Fortunately you’re both uninjured. Your teacher would never forgive me if you were hurt.”

Wu Shui, still catching her breath, laughed and said: “We’re not that important! How could Teacher bear to harm Teacher’s Spouse?”

Xiao Yu smiled again, remembering how years ago he had considered testing the Lingbi Sect disciples, but after believing “Fei Qi” dead, Luo Mo had become truly angry, looking at him and saying word by word: “Xiao Yu, if you dare harm them in the slightest, I’ll make you suffer a slow, painful death.”

Understanding the disciples’ importance to her, how could he dare harbor such thoughts again? Moreover, these children had grown up under his watch—they were kind and lovely, pure-hearted by nature. How could he harm them?

Even now, not only would he not harm them, but he would try his best to protect them completely, to prevent Luo Mo from feeling heartache and distress.

Hearing Wu Shui’s words now, he didn’t explain, just smiled and said: “Your teacher doesn’t say much, but she values you all greatly in her heart.”

Wu Shui wanted to reply that even if the Teacher didn’t say much, she also valued the Teacher’s Spouse greatly in her heart. But then she remembered how when Luo Mo carried Xiao Yu up from the cliff bottom, she had been so distraught as if her soul would scatter if the person in her arms were to pass. Yet when Xiao Yu woke up, she became indifferent.

She suddenly wasn’t sure exactly where their teacher placed the Teacher’s Spouse in her heart, so she fell silent.

As they spoke, they had already left the tomb passage and returned to daylight. Xiao Yu stayed behind them as if to guard the rear, and Wu Shui and Ban Le thought nothing of it.

However, after just a few steps, he suddenly stopped, raising his hand to support himself against a nearby tree. Sweat beads on his forehead were visible in the sunlight as they silently slid down.

Wu Shui and Ban Le hurriedly looked back to see him already swaying unsteadily, his usually pale thin lips tinged with purple. He still managed to smile at them weakly, coughing lightly before speaking, his voice floating like mist: “I’m not doing well now… Sorry for staining the clothes you gave me…”

Wu Shui and Ban Le rushed back in panic to support him, only to see a bronze dart firmly embedded in his shoulder blade. The dart had been poisoned, with a ring of eerily dark purple blood staining the snow-blue cloak around it.

Ban Le remembered that when the mechanism first activated, she had frozen in shock, and it was Xiao Yu who had shielded her, pushing her aside. Then the three of them had used their lightness skills to jump away, barely avoiding the rain-like barrage of darts.

No darts had come near them after that, so if Xiao Yu was injured, it must have been then. Realizing this, Ban Le’s eyes immediately reddened, no longer caring about any clothes.

Wu Shui, face pale, pressed the major acupoints around Xiao Yu’s wound, then gritted her teeth and used her martial arts to lift him in her arms, employing her lightness skills to leap toward the estate where he lived with Luo Mo.

Even though they hadn’t delayed a moment, by the time they reached the estate and carefully laid Xiao Yu on the bed, the bloodstain had spread further, and his lips had grown more purple—the poison had entered his meridians.

They had already summoned Qing Li with a whistle signal outside the tomb. Wu Shui pressed the acupoints on Xiao Yu’s neck, her face growing increasingly pale as she said with trembling lips: “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have dragged Teacher’s Spouse there.”

Luo Mo had walked out from the inner chamber upon hearing the commotion, and these were the first words she heard. When she saw the state of the person lying on the bed, her pupils contracted. She rushed over without a word and placed her hand on his dantian, using her pure internal energy to protect his heart meridian.

In her anger and anxiety, she spoke without thinking, saying harshly: “Who gave you permission for such foolishness?”

Having followed her for over ten years, Wu Shui and Ban Le had never seen her so severe in both voice and manner. They were stunned, and even the usually fearless Wu Shui said dazedly: “Don’t blame Teacher’s Spouse, it was all my…”

Since the poison had entered his meridians, Xiao Yu found the sounds around him alternating between near and far, his vision also blurry and unclear. Hearing her scolding Wu Shui and Ban Le, he forced out a breath to say: “It’s not their fault…”

Hearing his voice so weak it was barely audible, yet still trying to argue, Luo Mo’s anger flared: “Xiao Yu, I’ve known you for so many years—don’t I know what kind of person you are? You couldn’t even avoid such a simple dart! Tell me, did you get injured on purpose just to put on an act here!”

Her words were harsh, her voice loud. Even poisoned, Xiao Yu heard every word. He wanted to explain, but after moving his lips several times, he couldn’t speak. His consciousness and strength were rapidly fading—having experienced many poisons before, he knew this one likely attacked the nerves directly, and it was uncertain whether he would regain consciousness again.

Finally, using his last strength to curve his lips slightly, before darkness descended, he said his final words: “I’m sorry… I really couldn’t dodge it…”

As soon as Luo Mo finished speaking, even Wu Shui and Ban Le were stunned. They truly hadn’t expected Luo Mo to accuse Xiao Yu at such a critical moment and with such cutting words devoid of any tenderness.

Seeing those black eyes, already lacking spirit, lose their last trace of light as they closed and his body went limp, Ban Le fell silent for a moment before bursting into tears with a “waa.”

Even when she had thought Feng Yuan Jiang had died, she hadn’t wailed so greatly, but now she cried uncontrollably, sobbing heartbrokenly while struggling to say: “Teacher’s Spouse was saving me… If not for the Teacher’s Spouse… I would have been poisoned… Teacher, how can you be so heartless…”

Holding the ice-cold person in her arms, for a moment, Luo Mo couldn’t think of anything. When Ban Le’s choked, crying words reached her ears, she felt as if her heart had been pierced by a row of fine needles, the pain dense and spreading. With each breath, the pain intensified, coming in waves, almost burying her completely.

Fortunately, as a healer, Qing Li always arrived promptly. She opened her medicine box and immediately began using needles to force out the poison, carefully removing the dart from Xiao Yu’s shoulder and cutting away the corrupted flesh, breaking into a cold sweat from concentration.

After squeezing out much-poisoned blood, and staining bandage after bandage red, she finally cleaned the poison from the wound site. She applied plenty of medicine before finally stopping the still-flowing fresh blood.

Xiao Yu was already weak, and the terrible sword wound in his chest had only just healed. After this series of injuries and blood loss, his face was pale to the point of lifelessness. Qing Li carefully bandaged the wound, her voice trembling: “The poison that has entered his meridians can only be slowly expelled with medicine. I can’t say when he’ll wake up.”

Luo Mo had long since gently laid Xiao Yu on the bed, positioning him to avoid pressure on his wound. Ban Le had been watching nearby, still holding Xiao Yu’s sleeve and quietly sobbing, her posture showing deep dependence and remorse.

Luo Mo looked at her and said softly: “Shui’er, go find Master Feng to comfort Little Le.”

Wu Shui, also wiping tears, agreed and pulled Ban Le away with consoling words. Before leaving, she looked back at Xiao Yu lying on the bed and said with red eyes: “Teacher, we only have one Teacher’s Spouse.”

While Xiao Yu remained unconscious, not only Luo Mo but also Qing Li stayed in the estate to care for him without rest, and she called two junior disciples from the medicine hall to help with miscellaneous tasks.

Yet despite such intensive care, after three or four consecutive days, Xiao Yu still hadn’t awakened. His breath grew weaker with each passing day, showing no movement except for slight twitches of his fingers when the poison surged.

Luo Mo hadn’t closed her eyes for days. She dared not sleep—whenever she closed her eyes, she seemed to see Xiao Yu’s lifeless gaze and smile before he lost consciousness, and that scene from the cliff that she had never dared to remember: her sword piercing his chest, his clothes stained red with blood, yet still giving her a slight smile before falling backward.

She knew she had regretted it—otherwise, she wouldn’t have unhesitatingly jumped off the cliff holding his body when half her power was scattered, just to search for that pool of ice spring that might not have existed.

That day, if Xiao Yu hadn’t lived, she would have died too.

In her life, fortune had never favored her. Everything had required careful planning; she had never dared to trust fate or gamble with her life. Yet this one time, they had unexpectedly escaped death, with luck so good she could hardly believe it herself.

But now? She had saved his life and brought him back to the main hall, yet still couldn’t hold onto him, couldn’t keep him. She could only watch helplessly as they reached such a state again.

By the fifth day, Qing Li, who had barely rested for days, her eyes bloodshot, said to her: “Teacher, don’t blame me for not trying hard enough. It’s truly Teacher’s Spouse himself… who has no will to live.”

Usually quick to understand implications, this time she stared at her disciple as if she hadn’t comprehended.

Qing Li sighed inwardly and spoke again: “Teacher, at this point if he were going to wake up, he would have already. It’s Teacher’s Spouse himself… who doesn’t want to wake up, doesn’t want to live.”

Seeing her silence, Qing Li knew that if she didn’t administer harsh medicine now when Xiao Yu did wake up, this cycle would just repeat. So she steeled her heart and said: “I secretly told Wu Shui the day before yesterday to prepare for the aftermath. Though the sect’s funeral rites are simple, it’s better to be prepared. Teacher’s Spouse has been good to all the senior and junior disciples these days—it wouldn’t feel right to be too modest.”

Only then did Luo Mo look at her, but still said nothing.

Qing Li gritted her teeth and continued: “Or does Teacher think we shouldn’t prepare a proper burial, just throw him back down the cliff?”

Luo Mo knew she was deliberately provoking her, but these children had deep feelings for her, and even saying such things was out of concern for her—she understood this in her heart. After her expression changed several times, she still shook her hand and said: “I understand. Xiao Qing, just say what you need to say directly.”

Seeing her say this, Qing Li stopped beating around the bush: “Teacher, when you saved Teacher’s Spouse and brought him back, I said saving a person isn’t as important as saving their heart. Now Teacher’s Spouse’s body has been saved, but what about his heart? If you truly love and value him, then let go of the past and treat him well. If you just couldn’t bear to let him die like that, leaving him to be humiliated and manipulated until his heart turns to ashes—well, Teacher, you’ve achieved that now. Why not let him go, give him a proper burial, and build a grave? At least that would honor the feelings you once shared.”

Listening to this, Luo Mo truly hadn’t realized that in her disciples’ eyes, she had been deliberately tormenting Xiao Yu. She remembered how before losing consciousness, Xiao Yu had also asked if she just couldn’t bear to let him off so easily.

She had always thought he misunderstood and hadn’t bothered to explain. Yet if even her disciples, who observed coldly and understood her character, saw it this way, how must it have appeared in his eyes? It hardly needed saying.

She dared not think too deeply—just a moment’s consideration made her realize that these peaceful, elegant days she had seen were actually like hell, too ugly to look back upon.

Seeing her expression, Qing Li knew she had guessed wrong. After secretly breathing a sigh of relief, she said: “Forgive my harsh words, Teacher, but someone like Teacher’s Spouse, even if saved and kept in good spirits with careful nurturing, would have at most a few years. Let alone with this torment every few days. I pride myself on my medical skills are only slightly inferior to Divine Physician Li’s and not worse than Young Master Xiao’s, but after one or two more incidents like this, I truly don’t know if I can save him again… Teacher, must you wait until that moment to feel irredeemable regret?”

Luo Mo listened with a blank expression, remaining silent for a long time. Only after Qing Li had waited for quite a while did she raise her hand and say: “I understand. Xiao Qing, thank you for your earnest counsel.”

Qing Li shook her head: “Teacher has shown us the kindness of nurturing and teaching. I’ve said too much.”

After speaking, she looked at Xiao Yu once more before taking her leave.

Only Luo Mo and the still unconscious person on the bed remained in the inner chamber. Luo Mo sat by the bed, reaching out to hold his cold, unresponsive hand.

Though she knew he couldn’t hear her now, she still spoke softly: “Xiao Yu, I still won’t let you die, so you must wake up for me. No matter how much you don’t want to, how unwilling you are, how tired you are… you must wake up. This will count as the last debt you owe me. If you wake up, we’ll be even. If you don’t wake up, even if I have to chase you to the ends of the earth and the yellow springs, I definitely won’t let you go.”

After speaking each word distinctly, she gripped his hand tightly and sent a stream of internal energy into his meridians, circulating everywhere like a persistent parasite, refusing to give up.

The person who had been deathly still for days finally furrowed his brows, and a few faint coughs escaped his lips.

Luo Mo didn’t dare push him too hard, quickly withdrawing her strength and internal energy. She bent down to place light kisses on his cheek and lips, adopting a gentle tone: “Yu, wake up. I’m waiting for you.”

The disciples never knew what their teacher had done, but the next morning, Xiao Yu, who had been unconscious for days, finally awoke.

His awakening meant he had survived this time. While everyone else was happy, Wu Shui and Ban Le were the most delighted, gathering around his bed eagerly trying to please him, promising that in the future they would protect Teacher’s Spouse with their lives whenever taking him out, and saying that Teacher’s Spouse was most magnanimous and should forgive them this time.

Xiao Yu hadn’t felt there was anything to forgive them for in the first place. Though lacking strength, he still smiled at them and said: “It’s nothing. You needn’t feel guilty.”

Seeing the weakened beauty just regain consciousness yet turn to comfort them instead, Wu Shui and Ban Le immediately crumbled completely, running out with tears and snot flowing, telling everyone they met how gentle and considerate Teacher’s Spouse was, truly worthy of being Young Master Xiao’s birth father, just like Young Master Xiao—both otherworldly beings.

Luo Mo had no comment on this new outbreak of “Teacher’s Spouse fever,” focusing solely on caring for Xiao Yu. Like his previous times of weakness from injury and illness, she handled everything personally, not delegating any tasks to others.

Only this time she paid more attention to her words. If she felt she might say something hurtful, she simply wouldn’t speak, just silently going about her tasks.

After all these years of entanglement between her and Xiao Yu, sarcasm and mockery had become habits. Changing now certainly wasn’t as easy as imagined, but Luo Mo told herself that whenever she wanted to say something, she should think of how he looked when unconscious. Sure enough, she couldn’t even utter the slightest cutting remark.

Xiao Yu naturally noticed this change, but with poison still remaining in his body, he was too muddled and weak to think deeply about it, simply letting her take care of everything.

The biggest change after he woke this time was that his hair, already streaked with white, began losing its black color bit by bit. Beyond his temples, even the top and back of his head gradually turned white.

This change happened quite rapidly, showing signs while he was still unconscious. After he woke, it whitened more with each passing day. By the looks of it, in just a few days, all his black hair would turn silver-white.

He hadn’t looked in a mirror, but with his long hair scattered over his shoulders and sides, he could see it when he turned his head.

Due to the unique internal cultivation method of the Xiao family, many ancestors had precedents of their hair turning white within days when their bodies weakened. However, he was only thirty-nine, still a few months shy of forty—there weren’t many cases of showing such signs of exhaustion so early.

Having entered the palace in her early teens, Luo Mo naturally remembered how his and Xiao Hui’s father, the emperor, had looked before his death—his hair had also turned white within days before he suddenly passed away.

Now, as she washed and combed his hair daily, she remained silent at the sight of the increasingly white strands.

This day, after cleaning his hair and tying it back with a silk ribbon, she looked at the complete whiteness, unable to find even a single black hair anymore. She leaned forward and kissed his temple.

At the moment of that light kiss, a tear silently fell onto his face.

The warm tear falling on his cheek was unmistakable. Xiao Yu couldn’t help but be stunned, and as she moved her face away slightly, he saw clear tear tracks still hanging at the corner of her eye.

Xiao Yu remembered the last time he had seen her cry. He was still Fei Qi then, wandering the jianghu with her, and had witnessed her shed tears once.

In all these years, that was the only time he had seen it. The last surviving child of the Chen family, no matter how difficult or painful things got, never cried—she had exhausted all her tears on the day her family was massacred.

Yet now she cried again, silently dropping a tear before him. Xiao Yu felt that tear was shockingly hot yet also shockingly cold, and his heart, which had been withered for days, began to bleed anew and start aching.

He raised his hand to wipe away the tears at the corner of her eye with his fingertip, softly calling: “Mo’er?”

Luo Mo felt embarrassed and instinctively wanted to move her face away from his palm, but she forced herself to stay still. Instead, she somewhat awkwardly nuzzled against his cold palm before smiling and saying: “It’s nothing. The sky is overcast and rainy today, my eyes are just a bit uncomfortable.”

Such a poor lie wasn’t even believed by the person telling it. Xiao Yu looked at her for a while before saying: “Overcast, rainy days are best for playing the zither. Mo’er, would you like me to play for you?”

Between the Xiao father and son, Xiao Yu had always been the one who could play the zither, while Xiao Huan was the one who loved Xiao. Unlike Xiao Huan, who always liked to play the flute during quiet nights and travels, Xiao Yu only played the zither when it rained or snowed.

Especially on rainy days, when the zither’s sound mixed with the pouring rain, it always had an indescribable elegance and charm.

Even young Luo Mo had been captivated by his zither playing, and though she had never said it—though Xiao Yu knew it well—she quite loved hearing him play. Even when she kept her emotions hidden, after hearing him play, the light in her eyes would always be a bit brighter.

When he suggested this, Luo Mo naturally agreed. She raised her hand to brush along the edge of his snow-white hair, her fingers lingering at his temple and ear with tender affection as she said softly: “Alright, I’ll have someone prepare a zither.”

The Lingbi Sect had many cultured followers, so finding a zither was easy. Soon one was brought and placed on a table in the corridor. It was quite a good instrument—though not an ancient qin, it was still a fine zither from a famous maker.

Even Xiao Yu, upon seeing it, plucked the strings to test it and said: “It’s a good zither.”

Before losing consciousness, he had been preoccupied with staining the cloak Ban Le had given him. While he was unconscious, Ban Le had had tailors quickly make an identical one. Now Luo Mo draped it over him and helped him sit properly.

After briefly testing the zither, he said: “I haven’t played for many years, I might be rusty.”

In recent years, he had been preoccupied with state affairs in the palace, and then running around in the jianghu—he truly hadn’t had the leisure to play the zither.

Luo Mo didn’t speak, just supporting his shoulders and adjusting the cloak around them.

Noticing her actions, he turned his head to smile slightly at her before raising his fingers to begin playing. He played a piece he had often played before, with a gentle melody that carried an indescribable melancholy and sadness.

Xiao Yu was a person who had spent his life mastering schemes and strategies, yet when playing the zither, he showed unexpected grace and plaintiveness. This was another reason Luo Mo loved hearing him play.

This man kept his thoughts buried so deep—usually one only saw his masterly planning and iron-handed methods. Only when his zither music came forth could one glimpse a tiny bit of his true heart.

The piece was quite long, drifting melodiously amid the rain sounds as if it would never end. Yet today, this piece suddenly stopped midway—the strings hadn’t broken, but the sound had ceased.

Xiao Yu pressed his hand to the strings, seemingly unable to continue playing. He turned his head to cough lightly, and though he pressed his lips together, he still couldn’t stop the bright red blood that seeped from them.

Luo Mo froze for a moment and raised her hand to support him, but saw his body lean forward slightly before a string of fresh blood fell drop by drop onto the zither. His vision seemed to have blurred, lowering hazily.

Luo Mo didn’t dare wait any longer, quickly embracing his shoulders to let him lean against her shoulder while using her sleeve to wipe the fresh blood that kept sliding from his lips.

His deep eyes were completely blank, turning for a long time without focusing on her face. Yet he still curved his lips in a smile and said softly: “Sorry… I couldn’t finish playing…”

Having played only half the piece, his face had grown increasingly pale, his breathing weak. Holding his body, Luo Mo felt he had become excessively thin, even his body temperature carrying an inescapable chill.

She remembered what Qing Li had said, and only now truly felt that while before she had been the one treating him with cold glares and crossed swords, now that she wanted to keep him, she might not be able to.

Leaning against her shoulder, he lightly closed his eyes, caught his breath for a moment, and continued speaking weakly: “Don’t use those medicines on me anymore… the remaining pills, have someone send them to Huan’er… his body is too weak, and he’s suffered so much damage, he’ll surely need them in a few years…”

As he spoke, he seemed to think of something and laughed lightly, with a touch of his former casualness and teasing: “That Ling family girl… she’s still very good to Huan’er… previously pretending to be so heartless…”

Luo Mo heard his voice getting lower and lower, so she said: “Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

He paused slightly, coughed several more times with traces of blood seeping from his lips, and finally curved his lips in a smile but couldn’t speak.

Luo Mo pressed her cheek against his, their temples touching as she turned to kiss his cold cheek: “Yu, are you making your final arrangements?”

His consciousness was already somewhat hazy, but hearing this, he gathered his breath again and smiled: “Mo’er, are you willing to let me go now…”

As he spoke, he added hazily: “It’s a pity I still couldn’t finish playing one piece for you… there wasn’t much you liked about what I did for you anyway…”

Luo Mo also laughed and said: “How do you know that’s the only thing I liked about what you did for me?”

She didn’t wait for him to continue but went on: “Yu, I usually don’t like to speak, but today I want to tell you… I kept you because I love you, perhaps since our time in the palace—otherwise, your affair with Yun Zixin wouldn’t have thrown me into such turmoil. Later I met Fei Qi, I liked him and pledged life and death with him because he was so much like you… Looking at him, I thought, how wonderful it would be if you weren’t the Second Prince, wasn’t Emperor, but just a small guard like this.

“Later when you told me he was dead, burned his body for me to see, I don’t know if I hated you so much because you killed ‘Fei Qi,’ or because you destroyed my foolish dream like that.

“Yu, we fought for so many years, you hurt me, and I hurt you. That day when I held you and jumped down, I only thought that if I couldn’t save you, at least we could die together, better than staying in the world alone to endure that endless torment.”

She wasn’t usually talkative, yet this time she said so much, recounting her feelings, laying bare the past without any hesitation or reserve. As she spoke, she kissed his closed eyelashes, whispering near his ear: “Yu, I have always loved you deeply. I kept you because I didn’t want to wait for a vague next life to know and love you again, afraid that in the vast world, we might never meet again.”

He had been listening the whole time. Luo Mo even feared he had fallen unconscious, but his eyelashes kept trembling slightly. Then he laughed softly and said: “Mo’er, am I already dead?”

Luo Mo held him tightly and said: “I haven’t allowed it, you dare not die.”

She really could be so confident in her hold over him every time. He couldn’t help but laugh again: “Yes… I dare not…”

Luo Mo didn’t let him continue. She turned her head to kiss his thin lips. Though there was still a bitter, bloody taste in his mouth, she didn’t mind at all, kissing him deeply, even actively teasing his tongue.

They had kissed countless times before, but never as tenderly and intimately as this time, with that bone-deep attachment and reluctance to part.

When Luo Mo pulled away, Xiao Yu was already somewhat breathless, and couldn’t help opening his closed eyes. Though he had no strength, he still smiled and pressed his lips together: “Mo’er… when you become passionate…”

Luo Mo traced his features with her fingertip and placed a bright red pill in his mouth. Seeing him try to spit it out, she pressed her fingers against his lips and said: “Stop thinking about giving them to Huan’er. You’ve already taken all but this last pill from the bottle these past few days. It’s just a few rare medicinal ingredients—I’ve already sent Xiao Lai and Huaixue to the Tibetan regions to find more. Making several dozen more pills for you father and son isn’t anything special.”

With the medicine in his mouth, Xiao Yu couldn’t speak. Under the effect of the medicine and renewed spirits, the darkness before his eyes gradually dispersed. After gathering some strength, he asked: “Did I get blood on my clothes?”

Luo Mo saw that his collar was already stained with some blood, but remembering how strangely precious he considered this garment—even when coughing blood, he would rather stain the zither than use his sleeve to cover it—she comforted him: “It’s fine, nothing got stained.”

Her mouth twitched, and she couldn’t help asking: “Is this garment so good that you consider it more important than your life?”

Xiao Yu curved his lips in a smile: “In all these years, it’s the first time someone has given me something…” He paused before admitting, “Besides, don’t you like me wearing clothes like this… Before in the palace, I had a similar one, and every time I wore it, you would look at me a few more times…”

Luo Mo had to admit she truly loved seeing him in such elegant clothes. He was already exceptionally handsome, just that his eyes and brows always carried some sharpness. Wearing these elegant clothes suppressed all that, making his whole person like warm jade, impossible to look away from.

As Xiao Yu spoke, he seemed somewhat regretful as he sighed lightly: “I had originally wanted to be buried in this garment.”

Luo Mo had been anxious for so many days, expending tremendous effort and even willing to say so many shameless words just to pull him back from the brink of death, only to hear him come out with such a reckless statement. Though it made her teeth itch with frustration, she could only suppress it.

As he spoke, he had regained enough strength to move slightly, finding a more comfortable position to lean against her. Lowering his eyes, he laughed softly and said: “I thought only this appearance and zither skill could catch your eye… at least leaving these impressions in your mind would make you think of me more often in the future…”

So he had been planning such a tragically beautiful farewell. Luo Mo listened, holding back again and again, but still couldn’t help letting out a cold laugh: “I told you, I still won’t let you die. Don’t think about such convenient arrangements.”

Before her words finished, he burst out laughing. Luo Mo turned to look and caught him smiling with curved eyes, those deep pupils filled with nothing but the gentlest mirth, more brilliant than the mountain azaleas blooming in May, painting the entire mountain in gorgeous splendor.