Mwah
After Yin Li's figure disappeared behind the vermilion gate of the Silver Prince's Mansion, He Mo withdrew his gaze, the soft touch of the calming incense pills still lingering on his fingertips.
He straightened the hem of his robe, which had been ruffled by the night wind, and turned to step onto the long bluestone street. Although the moonlight was beautiful, it also carried a subtle chill. He needed to return to his residence as soon as possible and arrange for people to strengthen surveillance of Wei An's residence.
Just as he reached the alley entrance, a very light rustling sound of clothes breaking suddenly swept past overhead. He Mo's eyes turned cold, and almost instinctively he dodged to the side. A short blade, gleaming with a cold light, grazed his shoulder and embedded itself in the brick wall behind him with a "thud." The blade was still gleaming with an eerie blue light, clearly coated with poison.
"Who?" He drew his sword from his waist with a backhand motion, the tip pointing straight into the shadows, the hem of his black robe taut in the night wind.
Five figures in purple robes darted out from the shadows at the end of the alley. Their faces were mostly covered by veils, revealing only pairs of eyes filled with ruthlessness. The long knives in their hands gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
The leader sneered, "Prince He, you've been meddling in the Yin family's affairs and even dared to investigate Wei An's background. Today, you'll never leave alive!" Before he finished speaking, the man in purple had already charged forward with his sword. He Mo parried with his sword, the sword light as sharp as frost, and instantly became entangled in combat with his opponent.
His left arm had not fully recovered, but his movements were still swift, and his sword moves were all aimed at vital points—but the man in purple was obviously a specially trained assassin, and his teamwork was excellent. The layers of sword wind forced him to retreat step by step.
In the midst of the struggle, a man in purple suddenly circled behind He Mo and slashed straight at his back with a long blade. By the time He Mo noticed, it was too late to dodge completely, and he could only sidestep. The blade still grazed his right arm, and his brocade robe was instantly stained red with blood. Warm drops of blood dripped down his arm onto the bluestone slab, gleaming a dazzling red in the moonlight.
"Your Highness!" came the exclamation of the guards from the Silver Prince's Mansion from not far away—it was Yin Li who was worried and had secretly ordered the guards to follow behind him to protect him.
The guards immediately drew their swords and rushed forward, engaging the purple-clad man in combat. He Mo, enduring the excruciating pain in his right arm, deflected the purple-clad man's blade with a backhand stroke, his gaze sweeping across the alleyway: "Don't linger, leave them alive!"
He knew these people were sent by Qinglang Mountain. Capturing them alive might yield more clues about Yin Li and the sacrificial cave.
But the man in purple seemed to have been prepared. When the guards arrived, the leader suddenly pulled out a signal flare from his pocket and shot it into the night sky.
The red signal exploded in the moonlight, and the remaining purple-clad men immediately changed their tactics, their moves becoming increasingly ruthless, as if they intended to take everyone down with them. He Mo's heart sank—this was a diversionary tactic! They were deliberately stalling for time here; there was probably another group watching the Silver Prince's Mansion, or perhaps heading for Wei An's residence. He forced himself to endure his injuries, piercing the shoulder blade of the purple-clad man before him with his sword, and shouted sharply to his guards, "You stay here to capture them alive; I'm going to Wei An's residence!"
Having said that, he disregarded the wound on his right arm, mounted his horse, and the steed neighed in pain, galloping off towards the outskirts of the city.
The wind rushed into his wounds, causing him to break out in a cold sweat, but he dared not slow down—Yin Li might be in that mansion, and he couldn't let the people from Qinglang Mountain get there first. After running for half a mile, the sounds of fighting behind him gradually faded into the distance.
He Mo looked down at his blood-stained right arm; the gauze was already soaked with blood, but his eyes remained resolute.
He recalled Yin Li's reddened ear tips when she received the calming incense pills, and how she had nestled behind him in the painted boat, relying on him. The warmth in his heart overwhelmed the pain of his wound—as long as he could protect her, help her find Yin Li, and clear up the injustice, what did this injury matter?
Moonlight shone on his tall, straight back, and also on the blood-stained hem of his robe. He galloped wildly down the long street, like a beam of light piercing the night, speeding towards the outskirts of the city—no matter how many ambushes lay ahead, he would guard that house, guarding Yin Li's only hope of finding her sister. Yin Li returned to her room, her fingertips still repeatedly caressing the white porcelain vase engraved with osmanthus blossoms, the cool, pine-snowy scent of He Mo still lingering in her nostrils. Her heartbeat had just calmed a little when suddenly, a rapid clanging of swords came from outside the window—the sound was extremely close, as if it were coming from the alleyway outside the Prince's mansion!
Her heart tightened suddenly, and she grabbed the porcelain bottle and ran to the window. Peeking through the window screen, she saw flickering lights at the alley entrance, several figures in purple robes locked in combat with the guards, and that familiar figure in black robes was wielding a sword and fighting two of the purple-robed men. The brocade robe on the right arm was soaked with blood, its crimson color glaringly bright in the moonlight!
"He Mo!" Yin Li exclaimed in shock, her fingers gripping the windowsill tightly until her knuckles turned white.
She recalled his tall, straight back when they parted, and his words, "I will never let you encounter such a thing again." But now, he was fighting alone against assassins at the alley entrance to protect her, and was even injured.
"Young Miss, you can't go out! It's dangerous outside!" The maid guarding the door quickly stopped Yin Li from rushing out.
"Danger? He's injured!" Yin Li's voice was choked with sobs, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. "Go, bring me my sword! And some wound medicine to stop the bleeding! Quickly!" The maid dared not disobey and hurriedly fetched the sword and medicine box.
Yin Li grabbed her sword and rushed out. Just as she reached the gate of the Prince's mansion, a guard hurriedly reported, "Miss, the Prince ordered us to stay and capture prisoners. He went to Wei An's residence in the suburbs! He said there might be an ambush there!"
"He went to the mansion?" Yin Li's heart pounded with even more panic. Wei An's mansion was already a spy base for Qinglang Mountain, and now with an assassin attack, if He Mo went there injured, wouldn't he be walking into the lion's den? She immediately mounted her horse, clutching her medicine box tightly in her hand: "I'll go after him! You all keep an eye on the Prince's mansion, and if there's any unusual activity, report it to the authorities immediately!"
The horse galloped across the long bluestone street, and the night wind carried the stench of blood, making Yin Li's heart beat even faster.
She sped along the road to the outskirts of the city, occasionally seeing drops of blood along the way—blood from He Mo's arm. With each drop she saw, her heart clenched tighter, tears blurring her vision, yet she dared not slow down.
After running for about half an incense stick's time, the neighing of a horse suddenly came from ahead. Yin Li looked up and saw He Mo dismounting under the old locust tree outside Wei An's residence. The bloodstains on the hem of his black robe had congealed into a dark brown color. He steadied himself by leaning against the tree trunk, clearly having lost too much blood, and his steps were unsteady. "He Mo!"
Yin Li reined in her horse, jumped down, and rushed to his side, reaching out to support his arm. "How are you? Does your wound hurt?"
He Mo turned his head and saw her, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, then he frowned: "Why are you here? It's dangerous here, go back quickly!"
"I'm not going back!" Yin Li opened the medicine box, took out scissors, and carefully cut open his blood-stained brocade robe. When she saw the wound, tears fell again—the wound was deep, the flesh was rolled up, and it was still bleeding. The edges were even tinged with a faint bluish-black, obviously the knife was poisoned.
“You’re injured, yet you still insisted on coming here…” She took out some styptic powder and carefully sprinkled it on the wound. Her fingertips trembled with nervousness, but she dared not use too much force, afraid of hurting him.
Looking at her reddened eyes and the way she carefully bandaged her wound, He Mo felt a warmth in his heart that overcame the pain. He reached out to wipe away her tears and said in a very gentle voice, "Don't cry, I'm fine. There's an ambush here. We need to find a place to hide and wait for the guards to arrive."
Yin Li nodded and helped him hide in a dilapidated temple next to the house. Once inside the temple, she noticed that He Mo's face was frighteningly pale and his breathing was rapid.
She quickly helped him sit down against the wall, then took out clean gauze and re-bandaged his wound: "Don't talk, conserve your energy. The guards will be here soon."
He Mo watched her busy figure, and noticed the mole at the corner of her eye that was glistening with tears. Suddenly, he reached out and took her hand: "Yin Li, don't worry about me."
"As long as you're alright, and as long as I can help you find Yinli, my injuries are nothing."
His palms were warm, slightly burning from his wounds, yet they instantly calmed Yin Li's heart. She looked up and met his eyes; moonlight streamed through the dilapidated temple window, illuminating his face and reflecting the tenderness and determination in his eyes. At that moment, she could no longer hold back, her tears falling even more fiercely, but she nodded firmly: "Let's wait for the guards together, and together we'll find out the truth."
"You can't get hurt, you absolutely can't." He Mo looked at her reddened eyes, a faint smile curving his lips, and tightened his grip on her hand—with her by his side, even in danger, even if the wound hurt the most, it didn't seem so painful anymore.
The moonlight slanted in through the dilapidated temple, like a piece of pure white gauze, falling on the two people's clasped hands.
Yin Li knelt before He Mo, her knees pressed against the hem of his robe. Her fingertips gently unwrapped the blood-soaked gauze—the gauze was stuck to the wound. With each movement, she could see He Mo's Adam's apple bobbing slightly, but he didn't utter a sound of pain. Only fine beads of cold sweat seeped from his forehead and slid down his temples.
"Tell me if it hurts, don't hold it in." Her voice trembled as she quickly took warm water from the medicine box, moistened a cotton cloth, and carefully applied it to the gauze, gently separating it from the wound. "I'll be slow, very slow..."
He Mo looked at her with her eyelashes drooping, her long, thick eyelashes casting light shadows under her eyes, her nose slightly red from nervousness, and the mole at the corner of her eye glistening with undried tears, like shattered stars falling on her cheek, so soft that it made his heart tighten.
He couldn't help but raise his hand and gently touch the mole with his fingertips. The touch was delicate and warm, like touching fragile porcelain: "It doesn't hurt, you can do it."
"Still saying it doesn't hurt?" Yin Li slapped his hand away, her tone slightly reproachful, but her movements became even gentler.
Once the gauze was completely removed, the deep, bone-revealing wound was fully exposed to the moonlight—the flesh was rolled up, the edges were tinged with a faint bluish-black, and the poison had spread along the blood vessels to the forearm, even the surrounding skin had an abnormal darkness.
Her tears welled up again, dripping onto his arm and burning him slightly.
"Don't cry." He Mo reached out to wipe away her tears, his fingertips brushing against her cheek, still slightly warm from her wound. "Master Mu Han's antidote pills are very effective. You'll be fine after taking them."
Yin Li sniffed, took out a small jade bottle from her bosom, poured out a dark brown antidote pill, and carefully held it to his lips: "This is what my master gave me back then. He said it could cure a hundred kinds of common poisons. You should eat it quickly."
She was worried that the pills would be too bitter, so she brought him some warm water, held his wrist and fed him the water. Her fingertips brushed against his palm, and they both paused for a moment before quickly looking away.
After administering the medicine, Yin Li sprinkled the hemostatic powder back on. The powder landed on the wound, and He Mo's body trembled slightly. She immediately stopped and looked up at him: "Does it hurt a lot? Should I be gentler?" "It's okay."
Seeing the worry in her eyes, He Mo suddenly reached out and took her hand, the warmth of his palm enveloping her slightly cool fingertips. "Don't worry, I can handle it."
"But...you shouldn't have come here, it's too dangerous." "And what about you?" Yin Li looked up and met his eyes. Moonlight fell into his eyes, reflecting her image, and revealing a tenderness she couldn't understand. "You ran so far with your injuries, wasn't that dangerous? You always say you won't let me suffer, you won't let me be in danger, but what about you? Can't you think more about yourself?"
Her last words were spoken so softly they sounded like a sigh, with a hint of grievance in the final syllable, like a wronged little animal.
Looking at her reddened eyes and her slightly furrowed brows due to anxiety, He Mo suddenly felt an impulse surge in his heart—he wanted to tell her that he didn't like to tough it out, but every time he saw her looking so dependent, he wanted to shield her from all danger.
He wanted to tell her that when they were fighting at the alley entrance, all he could think about was that nothing should happen to her and that he couldn't let her face those conspiracies alone. He wanted to tell her that when he saw her shed tears for him, he felt both heartache and uncontrollable joy, because the care hidden in those tears made all the pain worthwhile.
"Yinli." He called her name softly, his voice lower than usual, slightly hoarse from his wounds, like ink soaked in warm water, tickling her ear. "I didn't mean to make you worry, it's just..." He paused, his gaze fixed on her eyes, his fingers tightening slightly as he held her hand even tighter: "I only feel at ease when I see you safe."
From the moment I met you in Xinghua Village, from seeing you working tirelessly for the Yin family case and worrying about Yin Li, I no longer wanted to be just someone who was 'entrusted with their care'.
Yin Li's heart skipped a beat. She looked up and met his eyes—there was no longer his usual teasing, no longer his coldness in the face of danger, only a deep tenderness, like a night sky filled with starlight, making her forget to breathe for a moment, and even her fingertips began to burn.
The sound of the night wind rustling through the trees came from outside the dilapidated temple, like an accompaniment to the unfinished words.
He Mo looked at her reddened ear tips and her slightly parted lips. His Adam's apple bobbed again. He was about to say something when he suddenly coughed, and his face turned even paler—the poison was still spreading, making him feel weak.
"Don't talk!" Yin Li hurriedly supported his shoulders to make him more comfortable, and took out a hand warmer from the medicine box and put it into his uninjured left hand. "Rest for a while, the guards will be here soon."
"Once we get out of here, I'll get the best doctor to treat your injuries; you'll definitely recover."
He Mo obediently leaned against the corner of the wall, and the hand holding the heater gently squeezed her hand back. The warmth of his palm came through the fabric, making her feel so at ease that she felt flustered.
He watched her busy figure, and saw her occasionally looking up at him, and couldn't help but smile slightly—even though he was in danger at this moment, even though his wounds were still hurting, as long as she was by his side, it seemed that even this cold night had become warm.
The door of the dilapidated temple creaked softly as the night wind blew it in, stirring up bits of grass that landed on the backs of their clasped hands. Yin Li had just placed the new hand warmer into He Mo's left hand, her fingertips still warm from the warmer. As she tried to pull her hand away, he gently grasped it—his palm was still slightly hot from his wound, and his knuckles were white from the pressure, clearly showing that he was trying to keep her there.
She looked up and met his eyes, which were filled with such intense emotions, like crushed starlight mixed with an unyielding tenderness, spreading from the depths of his eyes to the tips of his brows.
The corners of his eyes, which usually held a hint of mockery, were now incredibly soft, and even his breathing was heavier than usual. His breath fell on her face, carrying a faint scent of medicine and the cool fragrance of pine needles, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
"Yinli." He called her name again, his voice even hoarser than before, with a slight, almost imperceptible tremor at the end, like the sound of a string fluttering in the wind, "You just blamed me for always bearing everything on my own... It's not that I like to force myself, it's that I've never met anyone before who makes me want to entrust my back to them."
His thumb gently brushed against the back of her hand, tracing the lines from the base of her fingers to the tip, his movements as light as if touching a rare treasure: "On the carriage in Xinghua Village, when you were dozing off while clutching the hem of my clothes, I thought, if only I could always protect you; on the painted boat, when you hid behind me, your ear tips as red as cherries, I..." Before he could finish speaking, his Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and his gaze fell on her lips—her lips, still moist and red from crying, were slightly pursed, like petals waiting to be plucked.
Yin Li felt flustered by his gaze and instinctively tried to back away, only to find her back pressed against the cold wall, with nowhere left to retreat.
Looking at her flustered and evasive eyes, and her slightly trembling fingertips, He Mo finally couldn't help but lean closer.
His movements were slow and patient, as if giving her a chance to escape, but his eyes were fixed on her, leaving her no strength to look away.
As they drew closer, his breath touched her lips, carrying a cool medicinal scent that burned her heart.
Yin Li instinctively closed her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling slightly like the wings of a startled butterfly. The next second, she felt something soft cover her—his lips, cool from his wound, gently brushing against hers.
The touch was so light, like the first snow falling on her tongue, like a feather brushing against her heart, that it made her mind go blank for a moment.
She could clearly feel the curve of his lips, his slightly trembling breath from nervousness, and even smell the faint, lingering scent of blood on his clothes. But these things didn't frighten her; instead, they acted as a catalyst, causing the throbbing in her heart to explode instantly, spreading from her chest to every limb. He Mo kissed her with extreme care, afraid of hurting her or disturbing this hard-won closeness.
He gently brushed his lips against hers, again and again, as if to confirm whether this feeling of attraction was real.
Only when he felt her body relax did he dare to increase the pressure slightly, gently taking her lower lip into his mouth with a clumsy tenderness.
Yin Li's breathing became erratic instantly. Her hands instinctively gripped his collar, her fingertips clutching the dark fabric, yet she dared not exert any force—she was afraid of hurting his wound, and also afraid of losing control. But the touch on his lips was too clear, the cool fragrance of pine needles too alluring, making her unable to resist tilting her head slightly, awkwardly responding to his kiss. This small response seemed to infuse He Mo with courage.
He reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, his movements so gentle he was afraid of breaking her. He gently pulled her into his embrace, letting her lean against his uninjured left shoulder. His kiss deepened, carefully tracing the shape of her lips, pouring all the unspoken care, excitement, and promises into the kiss.
The wind outside the dilapidated temple seemed to have stopped, leaving only the sound of their intertwined breaths, exceptionally clear in the cramped space. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice, falling on their embracing figures, bathing her flushed earlobes and his taut jaw in a soft, silvery-white hue.
He Mo only slowly backed away when Yin Li gently pushed his chest because she was breathing unsteadily.
Their foreheads were still pressed together, their noses rubbed together, their breaths mingled, and the warmth of each other lingered on their lips, making even the air feel sweet.
Yin Li leaned against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, which was even faster than her own. Her cheek was pressed against his warm shoulder, and her voice was as soft as a dream: "He Mo, in the future... please don't push me away anymore, okay?"
He Mo tightened his arms, holding her even closer, his chin resting on the top of her head, his voice so gentle it could melt water, still carrying a lingering breath: "I won't push anymore, I'll never push again."
"From now on, when you find Yinli and investigate the truth, whether it's good or bad, I'll be with you."
His lips gently touched the top of her hair, carrying the same warmth, as if making a promise to her. Under the moonlight, their hands clasped tightly together, never to be separated again.
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