Warm Talk
As dawn broke, Yinli left the palace carrying a food box.
The morning light, like gold leaf, spilled onto the bluestone pavement, making the dew-covered grass blades shine. The creaking of shopkeepers opening their doors echoed softly in the quiet street, making her heartbeat all the more clear.
She changed into a moon-white ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), and draped a worn blue cloth cloak over it—not because she was afraid of attracting attention, but because she was afraid the wind would be too strong and make her fingertips feel cold.
Besides hemostatic medicine, lotus seed soup, and jujube paste cake, the food box also contained a newly embroidered handkerchief. Several strands of light red silk thread were wrapped around the stitches. She had embroidered it last night by the light of the palace lantern, thinking that he could use it to wipe his sweat since his left arm was inconvenient.
The handle was wrapped with two layers of silk handkerchiefs, her usual one, and it was damp with her favorite incense. As she walked, the sweet scent of lotus seeds leaking from the seams of the food box mixed with the incense, making her ears heat up first.
The inn was at the end of an alley in the south of the city. She walked slower than usual, her blue cloth skirt brushing against the grass, dewdrops clinging to her ankles, cool and refreshing, but she didn't feel as flustered as last time.
Just thinking about the warmth of his fingertips holding her wrist when he escorted her out of the palace last night, and the breath he took on her head when he lowered his head, still made her feel like she had a warm fire burning inside her.
"You're here again, young lady?" The waiter smiled familiarly when he saw her. "Young Master He just got up and is upstairs changing his dressing. You can just go up there."
Yin Li nodded and carried the food box upstairs. The stairs made a "thump-thump" sound. When she reached the innermost room on the third floor, the door was not closed properly, leaving a crack.
Just as she was about to knock on the door, she heard a low gasp from inside—he had pulled at his wound while changing his dressing.
"He Mo?" She gently pushed open the door and saw He Mo sitting at the table. The bandage on his left arm was loosened on one side, and the wound was still wrapped with cotton wool, with a little red seepage.
He held the new bandage in his right hand, intending to wrap it around his neck, but his left hand couldn't be raised high enough, and his movement froze in mid-air, a thin layer of sweat beading on his forehead.
"Why didn't you call me?" Yin Li walked over quickly, put down the food box, and took the bandage from his hand. When her fingertips touched his arm, she could feel the coolness of his skin and the faint smell of medicine around the wound.
She moved gently, carefully peeling off the old cotton swab. Seeing that the wound was shallower than yesterday, she breathed a sigh of relief: "Does it still hurt?"
He Mo didn't speak, only looked at her lowered eyes.
Her eyelashes were long, glistening with the morning light, trembling gently like butterfly wings.
He could smell the incense on her body, mixed with the sweet fragrance of lotus seed soup, which smelled much better than the medicine.
When she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingertips occasionally brushing against his collarbone, he whispered, "It doesn't hurt anymore."
It still hurt, but her hands were so gentle and warm, like a spring breeze, that they made the pain go away.
After wrapping the bandages, Yin Li took out a small porcelain bottle from the food box—it was a pain-relieving ointment that she had specially asked the imperial physician for that morning. She had mixed it with warm water so it wouldn't be irritating.
She poured some into her palm, rubbed it to warm it, and then gently applied it around his wound. Her fingertips, warm from her body, rubbed it until his shoulder felt warm.
"This will make me more comfortable." When she looked up, she met his gaze. His eyes were moist, like a dog's wet eyes. They held a familiar gentleness, yet also something deep and profound, as if enveloping her entirely.
She quickly lowered her head and opened the food box: "The soup is still warm, please have some first."
He Mo didn't move, but instead reached out and grasped her wrist. His palm was warm, enveloping her hand and protecting her fingertips, which had been stained with the medicinal scent from rubbing the ointment.
"What's the rush?" His voice was lower and a little hoarse. "Sit with me for a while."
Yin Li's wrist was held in his hand, warmth spreading from his fingertips, and even her heart felt warm.
She had no choice but to sit down and watch him pick up the jujube paste cake from the food box. He held it in his right hand and brought it to her mouth: "Have a piece too."
She hesitated for a moment, then opened her mouth and took a small bite.
The jujube paste was very sweet, with a hint of osmanthus flavor, which she had specially asked the imperial kitchen to add.
Seeing that she had eaten, he took a bite himself, his gaze falling on the corner of her mouth—it was covered with a little bit of cake crumbs. He raised his hand to wipe it off, but then remembered that his left arm was inconvenient, so he could only gently rub the corner of her lips with the fingertips of his right hand.
The warmth of her fingertips was so light, yet it felt like a fire, instantly turning her ear tips bright red.
She quickly turned her face away and went to serve the lotus seed soup: "Drink the soup quickly, it won't taste good when it's cold."
He Mo took the porcelain bowl and drank slowly. He drank slowly, but his eyes never left her.
Seeing her take the newly embroidered handkerchief out of the food box, fold it neatly, and place it on the table, the light red silk thread at the corner of the handkerchief quite eye-catching, he smiled and said, "For me?"
"Mm." Yin Li nodded, her voice as soft as a whisper, "It's softer than the handkerchiefs at the inn for wiping your sweat."
He put down the porcelain bowl and picked up the handkerchief.
The fabric was fine soft satin, embroidered with several orchids, the tips of which were adorned with a wisp of light red, much like the little red flower she wore in her hair in the Imperial Garden last time.
He clutched the handkerchief, his fingertips tracing the stitches, and suddenly asked, "No one in the palace has made things difficult for you, has anyone?"
He knew that she had secretly left the palace to see him, and if the Empress Dowager or the Crown Prince found out, there would inevitably be gossip.
Yin Li shook her head, clutching his sleeve: "No, His Highness the Crown Prince asked me to bring you some nourishing things." As she spoke, she remembered something, "Oh, right, the Empress Dowager said that there has been no movement from Yingge recently, so you can rest assured and recover from your injuries."
He Mo hummed in agreement and took her hand in return.
His hands were larger than hers, able to completely envelop hers. Morning light streamed in through the window, falling on their clasped hands, and bathing the medicine bottle and handkerchief on the table in a warm glow.
"After I've settled things at Shadow Pavilion," he said, looking into her eyes, his tone soft yet earnest, "I'll take you to the plum garden outside the city. Didn't you say you'd never seen plum blossoms covering the mountains before?"
Yin Li's heart skipped a beat. When she looked up, she saw the smile in his eyes. She nodded vigorously, her fingertips tightening around his hand: "Okay."
The morning light outside the window grew brighter, and the sounds of vendors calling out their wares filled the alley, creating a lively atmosphere.
The room was quiet, with only their clasped hands and the sound of their rapid breathing.
...
...
The afternoon sun slanted into the inn room, filtering through the window lattice and casting dappled light onto Yin Li's hands as she held the needle and thread. She was sitting on a small stool by the window, sewing a light gray wristband—seeing that the bandage on He Mo's left arm had rubbed the cuffs of his sleeve raw, she was thinking of making a softer wristband to put inside to reduce friction.
The soft fabric was taken from the lining of her cloak; it was delicate and gentle on the skin. She deliberately left some slack when sewing it, so as not to constrict his wound. The stitches were neat and even. Every few stitches, she would look up at He Mo sitting at the table.
He was looking down at the slips of paper with symbols from the Western Regions, holding a pen in his right hand, occasionally making a few strokes on the paper, his left arm resting lightly on the edge of the table, with the thin cotton sleeve she had brought that morning already over the bandage.
"Are your hands tired?" He Mo suddenly looked up and met her gaze.
He put down his pen, got up and walked to her side, bending down to look at the wristband in her hand. "You've been sewing for half an hour, take a break."
Yin Li paused, holding the needle in her hand, and held up the wristband for him to see: "Almost done, try it on to see the size." As she spoke, she got up to put it on him, but he grabbed her wrist and sat down in the chair next to her.
His palms, still warm from holding the pen, gently rubbed her wrist, saying, "Your fingertips are all red."
He looked down and saw that there were shallow needle marks on the pad of her index finger, along with some frayed fabric. "Don't sew anymore, I can't use much strength in this arm."
"That won't do." Yin Li shook off his hand and picked up the needle and thread again. "It will hurt if it rubs against the bandage. It won't rub if it's sewn up." She was about to put the needle down when he reached out and pressed down on the back of her hand.
His fingertips gently pressed on the back of her hand, his calloused fingertips brushing against the needle marks, his movements very light, as if afraid of hurting her.
"Be good." His voice lowered, carrying a gentle tone that brooked no refusal. "Will you come with me and look at these clues?"
Yin Li had no choice but to put down her needlework and go over to look at the note on the table. The note was covered with some crooked symbols from the Western Regions, and next to it were annotations written by He Mo in elegant handwriting.
“What do these symbols mean?” she asked, pointing to one that looked like a bird.
“It’s a code used by Shadow Pavilion to send messages.” He Mo picked up the slip of paper and traced the symbol with his fingertip. “It was sent by A Che’s old subordinates. They said that Shadow Pavilion has been gathering in a dilapidated temple on the outskirts of the city several times recently, and each time they have been carrying a token with this symbol.”
He paused, not saying what followed—that dilapidated temple wasn't far from the palace, and it was probably related to the sacrificial ceremony to Heaven.
Yin Li didn't ask any further questions, but just looked at his profile.
Sunlight fell on his hair, tinging it with a few strands of light gold. When he lowered his eyes, his eyelashes cast a faint shadow under them, making him appear softer than usual.
She remembered that last night he escorted her to the palace gate, and gently hugged her in the shadows of the trees. His chin rested on the top of her head, and his voice was very soft: "Tomorrow I'll have the waiter reserve a window seat for you, so you can bask in the sun if you come."
At the time, she thought he was just saying it casually, but she never expected that he would actually move the table and chairs to the window so that she could bask in the sun while sewing wristbands.
"What are you thinking about?" He Mo noticed that she was lost in thought and waved his hand in front of her eyes.
Yin Li snapped out of her reverie, her ears slightly burning. "It's nothing, I just think... these symbols look really complicated." She changed the subject, picking up another slip of paper. "Is this one that looks like a flame also a code?"
“Yes, it means ‘urgent’.” He Mo continued, following her words without pointing out her distraction. He knew she was worried about Yingge, but she never asked, afraid of adding to his burden.
He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips brushing against her earlobe, and said gently, "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
Yin Li's earlobe burned from his touch, and she quickly nodded, turning her face to the window. Outside the window, the old tree was covered in lush foliage, and the sound of cicadas made the room exceptionally quiet.
She could feel his gaze on her profile, warm like the afternoon sun—not glaring, but comforting.
Just then, the waiter's voice came from downstairs: "Young Master He, someone is looking for you!"
He Mo's gaze darkened instantly. He stood up and walked to the door: "Let him come up."
Yin Li also stood up, feeling a little flustered. She saw He Mo casually pick up the sword on the table—the sword he had placed there when he came back last night, and it had never been drawn. Now, as he held it in his hand, his knuckles were slightly white.
Soon, a man dressed in shorts walked in. He was one of A-Che's former subordinates, and his face was filled with urgency: "Young Master He, we've found out! The Shadow Pavilion people are going to the ruined temple tonight, it seems they're transporting something, something related to the sacrificial ceremony!"
He Mo frowned, his fingers gripping the hilt of his sword: "I understand. Go down first and wait at the alley entrance."
After the man left, the atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Yin Li looked at He Mo's back. He was standing by the window, looking in the direction of the alley entrance. The hem of his light gray robe was gently blown by the wind. His left arm was still close to his side, but he exuded a cold and hard aura.
"Are you going?" Yin Li asked softly.
He Mo turned around, his eyes softening slightly: "Yes, I have to go and see." He walked to her side, reached out and took her hand, "Don't worry, I'm just going to check things out, I won't confront them head-on."
Yin Li knew she couldn't stop him, so she nodded and turned to get the wristband on the table: "I'll finish stitching this up, and you can wear it to protect the wound."
She held the needle and thread, her hands trembling slightly, but the stitches were even more even than before—she wanted to finish sewing it quickly so he could wear it, even if it only provided a little protection.
He Mo didn't try to persuade her anymore, but just stood by and watched her. He watched her serious expression as she looked down, watched the needle fly swiftly between her fingers, and watched the sunlight fall on the top of her hair, like a layer of scattered gold.
A sudden pang of reluctance welled up in his heart. If it weren't for the Yingge incident, if things could continue like this, with him basking in the afternoon sun and watching her sew, how wonderful that would be.
"All done." Yin Li quickly finished sewing and got up to put it on his left arm. The wristband was soft and fit the bandage perfectly, not too loose or too tight. She pulled up her sleeve to cover the wristband, "This way it won't rub."
He Mo glanced down at his cuffs, then looked up at her, and pulled her into his arms. His left arm gently rested on her back, not daring to exert any force, and he held her only with his right hand: "When I come back, I'll take you to eat the sweet cakes at the alley entrance. I've heard that their osmanthus sweet cakes are the best."
Yin Li leaned against him, able to smell the faint scent of ink and medicine on him, and the panic in her heart gradually subsided. She nodded, clutching his collar: "I'll wait for you, you must come back safely."
He hummed in agreement, lowered his head and gently kissed the top of her head, then released her, picked up his sword, and said, "I'm leaving."
Yin Li saw him to the door and watched his figure disappear at the top of the stairs.
The sun was still warm, and the cicadas were still chirping, but the room felt a little empty.
She walked to the table, picked up the handkerchief embroidered with orchids, the light red silk thread at the corner of the handkerchief particularly eye-catching in the sunlight—she would wait for him, wait for him to come back, to eat osmanthus sugar cake together, and to see the plum blossoms covering the mountains together.
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