Heavy footsteps, accompanied by a strong smell of medicine, rushed in. The old military doctor, with his white hair and beard, was the same one who had taken Luo Qingrou in at the wounded soldiers' camp, impressed by her skillful bandaging techniques and accepting her as a special case. He deftly examined Lu Zheng's wounds and pulse, his cloudy but sharp eyes sweeping over the trembling "little soldier," then at Lu Zheng's burning gaze fixed on Luo Qingrou, and he already understood most of what was going on.

"The anger has affected your heart and internal organs." The old military doctor's voice was steady as his hands moved quickly to re-treat the wound, change the dressing, and bandage it. "Young Master, no matter how big the problem is, you have to take care of your life first! If you can't catch your breath, everything else will be in vain!" He glanced meaningfully at Luo Qingrou, who was almost collapsing beside him. "This kid... his hands are shaking badly, but his heart is truly sincere."

When only the two of them remained in the tent, the air seemed to have been sucked out. Lu Zheng's excruciating chest pain eased slightly, but the anger and surging complex emotions in his eyes were more suffocating to Luo Qingrou than the wound itself. She lowered her head, like a prisoner awaiting judgment, her shoulders still trembling slightly, her face a mixture of blood and tears, utterly disheveled.

“Luo Qingrou…” Lu Zheng’s voice was terribly hoarse, each word seemed to be ground out from between his teeth, carrying an extremely suppressed storm, “How dare you! Is the border a place for child’s play? Arrows have no eyes, do you know how dangerous it was just now? You…” He wanted to scold her sternly, wanted to tie her up on the carriage and send her back to the capital immediately, but looking at her pale face, her trembling shoulders, and the fear and heartache for him that she couldn’t hide despite being covered in blood and tears, all the words of scolding stuck in his throat, turning into a violent cough.

Luo Qingrou was so frightened that she immediately rushed to the bedside, wanting to help him catch his breath but not daring to touch his wound. Her hand hung in mid-air, and her tears flowed even more fiercely: "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Lu Zheng... I just... I just..." She choked and spoke incoherently, "When I received your letter that you were going to the frontier, I... I couldn't sit still... I was afraid... I was afraid that I would never..." The rest of her words were drowned out by the surging tears, leaving only broken sobs.

Seeing her cry like this for him, seeing her chase after him through this inferno without regard for anything else, the raging fire in Lu Zheng's chest seemed to be extinguished and melted away little by little by these scalding tears. What remained was lingering fear, heartache, and an overwhelming tide of emotions that could no longer be denied or suppressed.

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, the rage in his eyes had transformed into a bottomless pool, churning with emotions that Luo Qingrou had never seen before, emotions so intense they made her heart pound.

"Afraid you'll never see me again?" Lu Zheng's voice lowered, carrying a strange magnetism. He laboriously raised his uninjured right hand, his fingertips trembling slightly from the pain of waking from a serious injury, yet he touched her blood-stained and tear-streaked cheek with unusual firmness and extreme slowness.

His rough fingertips, burning hot, carefully brushed across her cold skin, removing the grime. His movements were as gentle as if handling a rare treasure, a stark contrast to his previous rage.

Luo Qingrou froze, forgetting to cry, forgetting to be afraid, forgetting to breathe. She simply stared at him with her tear-filled eyes, at the deep, dark ocean in his eyes that reflected only her disheveled figure.

“Qingrou,” he called her name, no longer the distant “Miss Luo,” his voice was deep and clear, weak from serious injury, yet possessing a power that pierced her soul, each word striking her heart, “Look at me.”

She was as if bewitched, unable to look away.

"Before I left the capital, I told Your Highness that I wanted to see my own heart clearly." Lu Zheng's fingertips lingered on the corner of her slightly cool eye, feeling the subtle tremor. "To see if the moon over the frontier can illuminate the way home."

He took a deep breath, which aggravated his wound and brought a sharp pain, but he didn't even flinch. His gaze was fixed on her, as if he wanted to seize her soul as well.

“I saw it,” he said slowly, each word carrying immense weight. “Just now, just when I thought I was about to fall into darkness… I saw it.”

"What I see is not the cold moon over the frontier, but a gentle one." He gazed at her, all the storms in his eyes settling down, transforming into an almost devout focus and a burning tenderness, a tenderness so intense it was almost scorching.

"What I see is you."

"It was your panicked hands wiping away my blood, it was your tearful eyes, it was you... chasing after me here without hesitation." His voice trembled slightly, not from the pain, but from the surging torrent of emotions within him that could no longer be concealed. "Do I really need to see this feeling clearly?"

Luo Qingrou's breathing stopped completely, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, almost shattering her ribs. She looked at him, at his eyes filled with her, filled with a kind of affection she never dared to dream of, and her mind went blank.

Lu Zheng tightened his fingers slightly, lifting her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze more clearly. His gaze held the unwavering resolve of a seasoned soldier, and a burning intensity that could melt even the hardest ice, reserved only for one person.

“My heart was clear the moment I left the capital.” His deep voice was like a vow, hoarse from his serious injuries, yet it pierced the oppressive atmosphere of the military tent with unparalleled clarity and determination, and also pierced through all of Luo Qingrou’s pretense and defenses. “Luo Qingrou, I, Lu Zheng, have only come for you in this life. The moon over the frontier can only illuminate my way home because you are here.”

“You are brighter than the moon over the frontier,” he said, looking into her eyes, which had gone blank in an instant, overwhelmed by immense shock and ecstasy, “and so on, each word distinct and resolute.