Yanu looked at Qiao Mu coldly, his starry eyes dimming slightly, as if he hadn’t understood what she meant. Qiao Mu also managed, with some effort, to calm herself, clearing her throat and instantly putting on a serious expression. “Ahem, that—I haven’t noticed any markers yet, but if we keep heading south, we might spot something they’ve left behind.”
What impulsive nonsense was that—she’d been utterly careless, blurting out something like that out loud while just thinking to herself. It wasn’t as though she truly intended to do anything to him; she just couldn’t help sneaking a few extra glances now and then. “That, um, Yanu, your body really isn’t in great shape right now. Why don’t we rest a bit longer and set off again tomorrow?”
This suggestion absolutely wasn’t about wanting an extra day together, or taking advantage of the situation in any way. It was simply that Yanu, in his current state, was genuinely quite weak, his face pale as paper—it was painful to watch. In fact, looking at him now, his stunning face pale with faint flushes of red, Qiao Mu suspected he might still be running a fever.
The trouble was, Yanu wouldn’t let her touch him, so she had no way of knowing exactly what state he was in. “Yanu, would you let me check your temperature? I have some medicine that I can prescribe according to your condition.” After all, she had come from Tianji Hall, and although she’d never formally studied medicine, having been around Feng Jiu’er so much, she’d picked up at least a little knowledge. A simple chill—Qiao Mu was confident she could handle that. As long as the illness didn’t worsen, a little medicine ought to fix it; the key was figuring out exactly how feverish he was right now.
“It’s not a chill. It’s just the fever brought on by the wound not having healed yet.” Yanu kept walking forward, not slowing his pace in the slightest. “If you treat it as an ordinary cold and prescribe accordingly, not only will I fail to recover, but the injury might well worsen.” “This…” Qiao Mu froze for a moment, her face flushing instantly, unable to even respond.
How had she forgotten? Yanu had been by Jiu’er’s side for so long—Jiu’er was a divine physician, after all, and Yanu had surely heard and seen far more than she had, and naturally knew more than her. If it wasn’t a cold, and she treated it as one, the fever stoked by the wrong medicine would only make things worse. Sigh, her half-baked medical knowledge really hadn’t gone deep enough.
“But I’m worried you won’t be able to hold up.” Qiao Mu chased after him, not daring to get too close, but not daring to fall too far behind either. “Why don’t we rest another half day, then set off after that? How does that sound?” “There’s no one to look after Jiu’er. I worry she won’t manage well without me.” Yanu still didn’t turn back, didn’t stop walking.
Qiao Mu felt a little disheartened—this man’s mind was so full of Jiu’er, could he not spare even a little thought for anyone else? Jiu’er already had the Ninth Prince; sigh, even if things fell apart with the Ninth Prince, there was still Mu Mu waiting in line—where did that leave him? Then again, the Ninth Prince, Mu Mu, Yanu—come to think of it, looking purely at appearance, they really weren’t all that different from one another.
“Fine, go ahead then, but don’t walk too fast. Your body really isn’t well.” “I’m aware.” Qiao Mu watched the unyielding man ahead of her. He hadn’t seemed to carry much of a masculine air about him before, but now, the more she looked, the more compelling she found him.
Though he had no martial skill, though he was only a servant by birth, though he barely said more than a few words at a time, behaving all day like a well-mannered, quiet child— But she was increasingly coming to feel that all of that only held true when he was in front of Jiu’er. Away from Jiu’er, he didn’t seem like a servant at all; he even carried a certain noble air about him.
Even now, when he was still not talkative, still quiet and composed, that quiet composure wasn’t the docile, obedient kind. It was a kind of detachment, isolation, even arrogance—not far from insolence! Why was there such a difference from the Yanu who stayed by Jiu’er’s side?
Yet it was precisely that air about him that made him all the more captivating—somehow… eh! Somehow it had a real touch of the Ninth Prince’s manner to it! Hmm, the more she looked, the more she noticed it. Whether it was his build, his looks, or his bearing…
Suddenly, Qiao Mu came to an abrupt halt, staring at Yanu’s tall, slender back, a strange thought twisting through her mind. Why did she feel that the Ninth Prince and Yanu… carried such a similar air? If she didn’t know their respective stations, she’d have mistaken them for blood brothers.
How strange—why would such a thought even occur to her? By the time she caught herself, Yanu had already walked some distance ahead. Qiao Mu blinked, then hurried to catch up.
“Yanu, are you really alright? Should we stop and rest?” Yanu said nothing and kept walking, his back rigid and cold. Qiao Mu walked alongside him, tilting her head to study his face: “Yanu, do you have a name? Jiu’er has always just called you Yanu—I don’t even know your real name.”
“No name, no family.” “…” Something tugged faintly at her heart—no name, no family, as if no one had ever doted on him either. “Then, your family? When did you enter Feng Manor? Do you still have any contact with your family?” She simply wanted to understand him better, and for some reason, she found herself wanting to know everything about him. But the more she learned, the more her heart ached.
Yanu didn’t answer this question. Qiao Mu could more or less guess the reason—not only did he have no name and no family, he likely had no kin to speak of. So his entire existence revolved around Jiu’er. Wherever Jiu’er went, that was where he had to go. Perhaps in this lifetime he had no ambitions of his own—as long as Jiu’er let him stay by her side, he could spend his whole life this way and be content.
This was the impression Yanu gave off, yet Qiao Mu couldn’t help feeling that he shouldn’t have to spend his life this way. That air about him—why did it always make people feel he was meant for something greater? Yanu walked quickly, and more than once Qiao Mu found herself left behind, lost in thought. Catching up again, he continued on at his own steady, unhurried pace, never changing his stride whether she kept up or not.
Qiao Mu, still not ready to give up, asked again: “Yanu, do you really intend to follow Jiu’er for your whole life?” This question, too, Yanu left unanswered. Yet this cold, indifferent Yanu didn’t come across as unlikable in the least. Qiao Mu eyed him: “But have you ever thought—one day, Jiu’er will have to marry?”
Yanu’s footsteps faltered—this was the only time he truly came to a stop. But it was only a brief pause; he soon continued walking, wasting no further time. “As long as Jiu’er still needs me, no matter who she marries or where she goes, I will remain her servant, looking after her and her new master for the rest of my life.”
Qiao Mu let out a breath, feeling genuinely resentful now. This man—why couldn’t he just bend his thinking a little? There was really no need for him to remain a servant forever! Jiu’er herself never even treated him like one! He could become a master in his own right, if only he were willing—she’d even work hard to earn the money to make him one someday. But the real question was—was he willing?