Chapter Thirty-Six
Beneath the walls of Dongliang City, camps still stood in rows, but the scene was no longer the same as it had been a month or so ago.
After Mo Yinghuo walked out of Gongliang Zhong's tent, she walked briskly with an umbrella in hand. The wind and rain swept coldly across her face. When she was about to leave, she suddenly stopped at the door of Zhao Shu's tent. She stood there for a moment, took a deep breath of the dry and chilly rain air, and then slowly lifted the curtain and walked in unhurriedly.
No one dies in vain. Just as darkness turns black into white, that resolute determination, along with Mo Yinghuo's departing figure, once again seeped into her bones, silently turning to ash and returning to tranquility.
On the line between life and death, some people have walked this line too many times, seemingly becoming numb and indifferent. In reality, it's just a passionate heart covered with a layer of frost.
Entering Zhao Shu's tent, Mo Yinghuo saw the black sphere again. He had not known about the mysterious existence of wormholes before, but now he understood that it was a tunnel-like thing connecting the universe and the cosmos, which could bring two relatively distant places very close in an instant, and also allow people to enter two places where the scenery was different.
She observed intently. This time, she was closer to the wormhole and had enough time to examine it closely. Mo Yinghuo suddenly realized that it was not a simple black sphere, but more like a void. The transparent blackness made it seem as if she could see its interior, yet it also seemed to be something that could never be bottomed out, vast and boundless inside. The reason it appeared as it did before her eyes was merely due to the limitations of her eyes, which could only perceive it in her mind.
It wasn't that she actually saw the wormhole's shape, but rather that the wormhole formed an image in her pupils, its size varying—perhaps vast and boundless like the stars, or perhaps as tiny as a point. Mo Yinghuo was captivated, and slowly reached out, wanting to touch it. However, it was only for a moment; she quickly withdrew her hand, her voice trembling with barely suppressed excitement, "Zhao Shu, can we go now?"
Zhao Shu gave a soft "hmm," and then, as if summoning immense courage, after careful consideration, he tried his best to control his trembling hands and slowly extended one hand to Mo Yinghuo.
Mo Yinghuo was puzzled. Her gaze fell on the strong, yet slightly trembling hand, wondering if he wanted her to hold his hand. Seeing that Zhao Shu simply placed his hand in front of her without speaking, his eyes lowered, and a faint blush rising at the base of his ears, Mo Yinghuo rubbed her temples and asked cautiously, "Zhao Shu, are you... asking me to hold your hand?"
Zhao Shu never looked up, but his voice was extremely soft and a little hurried, "No, I'm holding your hand. You might not be able to handle going into the wormhole, it'll be better if I hold your hand."
Mo Yinghuo smiled bitterly to herself. It was indeed difficult for him. No one had ever been able to touch him before, but he had only been able to have physical contact with others because of her. She felt as if she had taken advantage of him. Unlike Zhao Shu, she quickly and decisively placed her hand in front of Zhao Shu's palm. Because she reached out too fast, Mo Yinghuo almost touched Zhao Shu's palm.
Zhao Shu's hand unconsciously moved back slightly, seemingly touching but not quite, hesitant and uncertain, maintaining a subtle, ambiguous, and unspeakable distance from that fair and slender hand.
Mo Yinghuo held his hand in mid-air, waiting quietly, his peripheral vision glancing at the hesitant person beside him.
After a while, the hand with distinct knuckles suddenly moved forward cautiously, the slender fingers gently stroking the delicate skin on Mo Yinghuo's hand, and then applied a little pressure.
Zhao Shu's hands trembled incessantly, with extreme restraint and control, afraid that he might accidentally release too much strength and damage the clean, white hand in his palm. Although he knew that it was a hand stained with blood, for some reason, it looked exceptionally clear and white, as if it were imbued with the aura of playing chess and writing poetry.
Finally, that strong, slightly bronze hand gently grasped the hand that had been waiting in mid-air for so long. Zhao Shu's body stiffened abruptly, and the blush on his face, rising and falling along his Adam's apple, bloomed like peach blossoms on his chest. The physical reaction, transmitted through their clasped hands, was like ants biting through their palms to Mo Yinghuo. She looked away, staring at Zhao Shu with a puzzled expression, finding it both amusing and unfunny.
Suddenly, a strange thought flashed through Mo Yinghuo's mind: "If I hold his hand, does that mean I have to marry him?" It's no wonder that Mo Yinghuo had this ridiculous idea; Zhao Shu's reaction was just too unusual.
Perhaps he has a crush on me, General.
Perhaps this was the first time he had taken the initiative to make contact with someone.
Perhaps this was the first time he held hands with someone.
Perhaps he is just too introverted and shy.
Perhaps he was good at fighting but not at handling human affairs.
...
Mo Yinghuo pondered a million possibilities, each one seemingly plausible. From childhood, she had always had cold hands and feet; the imperial physicians had used every precious medicine imaginable, yet none could cure her cold-blooded ailment. Perhaps it was something she was born with, deeply ingrained, and couldn't be resolved overnight.
Her father also said that she was born with a cold constitution, and he named her Yinghuo in the hope that she would be healthy and live a long and happy life.
However, compared to her father, Mo Yinghuo was not too worried. Her cold hands and feet did not affect her daily life, so she did not regard it as an illness. She just had to wear an extra layer of clothing in winter.
Strangely, although Zhao Shu always appeared aloof and reserved, Mo Yinghuo found that whenever she walked next to him, even just a step or two away, she could feel the gentle and warm aura emanating from him. For some reason, perhaps because of her own cold nature, Mo Yinghuo found this gentle aura quite appealing.
At that moment, she felt her cold hand being gently and cautiously enveloped by a warm, gentle warmth, like the warmth of the sun, carefully caressing her hand and sliding down to her fingertips. It was incredibly comfortable and pleasant, and without her realizing it, a thought of greed arose in her mind.
Mo Yinghuo subtly tightened his grip on the gentle hand, his fingers gently sinking into it and secretly rubbing it with warmth. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he subtly turned his head away, making it difficult to notice.
Mo Yinghuo regretted it in an instant. Zhao Shu trembled slightly, and a barely audible moan escaped from his tightly pursed lips. His Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to suppress his deep, heavy breathing, and the warmth immediately turned into scalding heat.
Mo Yinghuo's eyes widened in terror, her heart pounding uncontrollably. Her body tensed, and the cinnabar mole on her brow blushed crimson, almost oozing blood. She quickly turned her face away, a burning sensation coursing through her chest. Mo Yinghuo even felt a momentary daze; she had kissed that person, not just simply held their hand.
In an instant, she was filled with shame for her filthy thoughts. How could she have such an idea? That person was usually extremely upright, that person did not allow anyone to touch him in the slightest, that person was the savior of Yunxiu Kingdom.
This is absolutely outrageous and deserves to be struck by lightning.
Suddenly, Zhao Shu exerted a strong force and tightly grasped the fair and slender hand in his. The knuckles cracked a few times, and the coldness of the soft hand seemed to be crushed and melted by the warmth.
A light sheen of cold sweat trickled down Mo Yinghuo's forehead. The sharp pain in her fingers, so close to her heart, immediately spread throughout her body. She frowned, and the mischievous smile she had been wearing instantly turned into an honest, docile one. Her lips were pale from the pain. Mo Yinghuo immediately turned her head and looked at Zhao Shu with a mixture of grievance and pity.
Zhao Shu simply glared at her fiercely.
You reap what you sow. Mo Yinghuo felt a strange sense of self-pity stemming from Zhao Shu's inexplicable actions.
A moment later, Zhao Shu gave a strong tug, and the two disappeared from the tent and entered the wormhole.
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