Chapter 30
The stream babbled along the pebble beach, sunlight filtering through peach branches and scattering across the water's surface, creating a shimmering expanse of golden scales. The stones on the bank gleamed from the water, covered with a thin layer of soft moss, and adorned with a few peach petals drifting downstream.
Xiao Qiyun dismounted first, the hem of his moon-white robe sweeping across the grass, carrying a scent of grass and trees. He circled the stream and chose a flat stone by the water—its surface was warm from the sun, and its edge had a natural stone block protruding, just right to serve as a backrest.
“This place is nice.” He turned around and called out, his gaze first falling on Su Zhelan’s horse. “We’ve been riding for so long, it’s time to rest.”
Just as Sheng Xuan was about to urge his horse over, he saw Xiao Qiyun walk up to the Snowdrift and reach out to protect the horse's belly: "Go slowly, the stones are slippery."
Su Zhelan shifted on the horse's back, trying to mount it like she had on the way there, but as soon as she lifted her leg halfway, she suddenly forgot how to exert force. She loosened the reins and fell forward—clumsy, her toes barely touching the grass before she stumbled and was about to fall into the stream.
"Watch out!" Sheng Xuan's shout had barely left his mouth when Xiao Qiyun reached out and steadied Su Zhelan's arm.
The sleeves of his long robe were lifted up. Su Zhelan almost bumped into him, her nose brushing against Xiao Qiyun's shoulder, carrying the bitter scent of tangerine peel tea. Neither of them spoke, only the sound of the stream and the soft rustling of peach branches in the wind could be heard. Su Zhelan could clearly feel the strength of Xiao Qiyun's grip on her arm.
"You're so clumsy." Sheng Xuan dismounted and strode over, his brows furrowed, but he didn't dare reach out to help her. He just stared at Su Zhelan's ankle. "Did you sprain it?"
Xiao Qiyun didn't let go, but instead guided Su Zhelan's arm toward Ping Shi. He gently pressed his fingertips against Su Zhelan's elbow to make sure he was steady before letting go: "Next time, don't rush to jump. Take your time and step on the stirrups."
His voice was slightly hoarse, his gaze swept over Su Zhelan's reddened ears, and then he bent down to pat the grass clippings off his long robe—they were from when he jumped down and were particularly noticeable on the fabric.
Su Zhelan lowered her head, her hands unconsciously clenching her sleeves, her fingertips twisting the wrinkles in the fabric: "Th...thank you."
"Why thank him?" Sheng Xuan muttered from the side, but squatted down to brush the mud off Su Zhelan's shoes. "Next time I'll help you, I guarantee I'll be more steady than him."
Xiao Qiyun didn't reply, but turned around and took out a soft cushion from the bag on his horse and spread it on the flat stone: "Sit down, the stream is cool, don't get damp."
He pushed the cushion towards the center of the stone, just enough for Su Zhelan to sit down against the stone stool, while he himself sat down on the corner of the stone, not too far away, not too close, within arm's reach.
Sunlight filtered through the peach branches and fell on Su Zhelan's hair. The red ribbon behind her neck hung down to her shoulders, swaying gently in the wind.
Su Zhelan touched her burning ears and looked towards the stream. She saw peach petals drifting away with the current. Suddenly, she felt that the moment she fell into Xiao Qiyun's arms was more heart-pounding than the wind when she was riding a horse—it was as if a peach petal had fallen into her heart lake, rippling out sweet and soft waves.
Sheng Xuan didn't say anything more. He turned around and led his black horse—he casually brushed the peach blossoms off the horse's mane, tossed them in his hand, and then stuffed them back into the saddlebag. He strode towards the old peach tree by the stream, wrapped the reins twice around the thick branches, tied a tight slipknot, tugged at it to make sure it was secure, and then let go.
Then he went to fetch the Snow Eagle that Su Zhelan had ridden. Sheng Xuan patiently stroked its face and said, "Don't be afraid, I'll find you a cool spot." He led it to be tied up next to the black horse and even made sure to lengthen the reins so that it could lower its head and nibble at the tender grass at its feet.
Finally, he went to fetch Xiao Qiyun's white horse. The owner of the moon-white robe was sitting on the rock. Seeing him come over, he lightly tapped the horse's back with his fingertips: "It's well-behaved, no need to circle around too much."
Sheng Xuan grunted in response, said nothing more, and simply tied the reins loosely in a knot on a nearby branch, just enough for the white horse to rub its tail and scratch itself, without breaking free.
Three horses stood side by side under the tree, their fur shimmering in the sunlight filtering through the peach branches.
Sheng Xuan patted the grass clippings off his hands, turned and walked towards the stream, calling out from afar, "Tie it up, it can't run away."
The wind swirled peach petals onto the horses' backs, and the three horses occasionally shook their heads, their hooves lightly pawing the grass, as if to say that the shade of the trees was indeed comfortable.
Su Zhelan sat on the rock and looked around. Suddenly, she felt that Sheng Xuan's way of tying the horse was much more reliable than when he tied the red ribbon—at least he didn't tie the reins into a crooked knot.
Xiao Qiyun suddenly looked up at the upstream side of the stream, twirling a peach petal that had just drifted down to his knees between his fingertips, his voice as clear and melodious as the stream: "I think I saw a clump of mint over there just now, perfect for making tea."
He stood up, his hem sweeping across the bluestone, stirring up a little dust. "I'll go and gather some. You wait here."
Su Zhelan paused, then looked up upstream—the peach groves there were denser, and she could vaguely see a patch of green grass, which really looked like it was covered with herbs.
Sheng Xuan's heart skipped a beat, followed by a strange surge of joy, but he deliberately said, "Why pick that stuff? It doesn't taste good."
Xiao Qiyun didn't respond to him, but looked down at Su Zhelan, his gaze falling on his cheeks, which were slightly red from the sun: "Peppermint water is refreshing. You've been riding for a long time, so it's good for you to drink some." He paused, then added, "It's nearby, not far."
With that, he turned and walked upstream. His pale figure quickly disappeared into the peach grove. His clothes were caught by a flower branch, but he didn't turn around. The wind carried his voice over: "Don't wander off. I'll be right back."
Once the figure had completely disappeared into the flower bushes, Sheng Xuan suddenly became flustered and rubbed his hand against the seam of his black riding outfit.
Su Zhelan's fingertips unconsciously twisted the orchid pattern on the hem of her dress. Her gaze fell on the snow eagle munching on grass in the distance. Her earlobes were flushed, and her voice was as soft as a falling peach petal: "Thank you for today. I haven't been this happy in a long time."
The young general whirled around, his eyes meeting Su Zhelan's grateful gaze—a gaze reflecting the countless peach blossoms, brighter than any stream. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he suddenly realized that Xiao Qiyun's mint-gathering trip had been more timely than ever before.
Su Zhelan's voice was as light as a feather, but when it landed on Sheng Xuan's heart, it stirred up a thousand waves.
The young general gripped the wolf-tooth pendant tightly, the cold metal digging into his palm, barely managing to suppress the burning sensation in his throat.
As he looked up, he saw sunlight filtering through the peach branches, casting dappled patterns of light on Su Zhelan's temples, and the red ribbon behind her neck fluttering in the wind. He looked at Su Zhelan's lowered eyelashes, at how her pale green eyes were warmed by the sunlight, and suddenly felt that Xiao Qiyun's figure disappearing while picking mint had been just right. The peach blossoms filling the stream, the warm breeze on his face, even the sweet fragrance floating in the air, all seemed to be pushing him forward.
“Su Zhelan,” he heard his own voice trembling, yet filled with a desperate courage, “I have something I want to tell you.”
Shengxuan's breathing suddenly became heavy, as if something was blocking his throat.
He stared at Su Zhelan's reddened eyes, and the words he had been holding back for so long grew wildly like weeds, breaking through all hesitation with the headstrong nature unique to young people: "Zhelan, I like you."
The moment the words left his lips, even the stream seemed to stop. Su Zhelan's pupils contracted sharply, the color drained from his face, and his lips moved but no sound came out—he had never expected that Sheng Xuan would so directly break through this ambiguous barrier.
“I know you might…” Sheng Xuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed even more, but his hand reached out uncontrollably and gently grasped Su Zhelan’s wrist, his fingertips burning hot and trembling slightly.
"Stop talking..." Su Zhelan suddenly spoke, his voice trembling almost imperceptibly, his fingertips digging deeply into his palms. The cult's pursuit, his concealed identity, those scars he dared not show... were like countless thorns piercing his heart, making even breathing painful.
He instinctively shrank back, trying to avoid Sheng Xuan's burning gaze.
Sheng Xuan's heart was pounding as if it would shatter his ribs. Looking at Su Zhelan's startled eyes, all the words he hadn't said were stuck in his throat. In the end, only one stubborn and fierce sentence remained: "I just like you."
The emotional impact overwhelmed Su Zhelan like a sudden tidal wave. The warm air, carrying the scent of sunshine and grass, suddenly drew near, so close that Su Zhelan could clearly see the undisguised heat surging in his eyes, a heat that almost burned her.
The action was too sudden, carrying the recklessness and power of a young man. Su Zhelan felt her mind go blank, so shocked that she even forgot to breathe; all her senses seemed to be focused on the sudden shortening of the distance between the two and their overlapping breaths.
Sheng Xuan's breath was hot and erratic, hitting her face. Su Zhelan could feel the strength in his grip on her wrist, carrying an undeniable possessiveness, yet also a hint of clumsy hesitation when she sensed his momentary stiffness. This complex emotion was transmitted through his tightly clenched wrist and his close gaze, causing Su Zhelan to tremble even more violently.
He stood very close, as if he wanted to pour out all the longing he had kept hidden in his eyes for the past few months, and all the thoughts that had been tossing and turning at night, through this close distance and tightly clasped wrists.
They were so close they could feel the heat of each other's breath, and Su Zhelan trembled slightly in shock. Sheng Xuan didn't pull away; instead, he gripped her hand even tighter, maintaining this oppressive closeness with a reckless, heart-pounding persistence.
Su Zhelan's wrist was tightly gripped by Sheng Xuan, the icy touch contrasting sharply with the other's burning palm. After the initial shock, a limp weakness washed over her, making even struggling seem futile. Sheng Xuan's breathing was erratic, carrying an irresistible aggression, yet in the instant their eyes met, a clumsy tenderness shone through, causing Su Zhelan's strength to gradually dissipate.
"Ugh..." The feeling of suffocation grew stronger and stronger. Su Zhelan's chest felt like it was filled with water. He finally struggled and pounded his fists haphazardly on Sheng Xuan's chest.
It wasn't until Su Zhelan's chest ached from the pressure and tears welled in her eyes that Sheng Xuan was jolted awake by the force of his fist pounding on her chest.
He loosened his grip slightly, but still didn't completely release Su Zhelan's wrist. Their noses were almost touching, their breaths mingling, heavy as if they had just finished a hunt. The wind passed between them, swirling up a few peach petals, which swayed gently before falling to the ground, like a loosely tied red ribbon.
Su Zhelan's lips trembled slightly, her chest heaved violently, and her eyes reddened, but she bit her lip tightly to keep herself from making a sound. The red ribbon behind her neck had been loosened, half of it slipping into her collar and the other half hanging down her collarbone, damp with moisture.
Seeing his expression, Sheng Xuan's Adam's apple bobbed. The fire in his eyes hadn't died down, but now there was a hint of panic and helplessness. He reached out to wipe away the tears from Su Zhelan's eyes, but Su Zhelan turned her head away as soon as his fingertips touched her.
“You…” Su Zhelan’s voice was hoarse and choked with sobs, “You’re a scoundrel.”
The young general suddenly laughed, a hint of triumphant smugness in his eyes. He ran his fingertips over his burning lips, his tone hard but unable to hide his excitement: "So what if you're a scoundrel? At least you didn't immediately shake me off."
He stared at their still-clasped wrists, his eyes shining with an astonishing light. "That means you've agreed."
Su Zhelan suddenly stood up from the rock. The movement was too hasty, and his knee hit the edge of the rock with a dull thud. He gasped in pain, but didn't bother to rub it.
His fists were clenched, his knuckles were white, and his chest was still heaving violently from the sudden closeness, as if a fire was burning inside him, making his eyes even redder.
"How could you..." He wanted to say "How could you do this," but the words caught in his throat.
Su Zhelan subconsciously raised his fingertips, wanting to touch his slightly numb lips, but then suddenly stopped in mid-air, instead rubbing his eyes hard with the back of his hand—the feeling of being forced to touch him was still there, and the burning heat seemed to still linger, making him feel uncomfortable all over.
The wind swirled peach petals onto his shoulder, but he felt irritated and swept them away, sending the petals flying like spring scenery disturbed by his current mood. "Who agreed to that?"
His voice trembled, choked with sobs, yet he stubbornly insisted, "Sheng Xuan, you've gone too far!"
But these words lacked power; they sounded more like a weak accusation.
He took two steps back, kicking pebbles that rolled into the stream, splashing up tiny droplets.
His gaze met Sheng Xuan's incredibly bright eyes, then he hurriedly looked away, his eyes landing on the three horses standing side by side in the distance—the snow-spotted statue seemed to have sensed something and was neighing in their direction, its voice filled with unease.
“I…” Su Zhelan opened her mouth, wanting to say that she was actually using him, wanting to say that there was no possibility between them, but the secrets hidden in her heart were like a boulder, making it hard for her to breathe.
In the end, all that remained was his panicked anger. He grabbed the soft cushion on the rock and threw it at Sheng Xuan, but he missed. The cushion fell with a "thud" onto the grass between the two of them, covered with a layer of pink and white petals.
"You...bastard, I need to be alone for a while!" He turned his face away, his ear tips were so red they were almost bleeding, and the red ribbon behind his neck was crookedly wrapped around his collar, just like his chaotic thoughts at this moment.
He had barely finished speaking when he panicked—he had no idea where to go. A stream lay before him, and Sheng Xuan was closing in behind him; there was nowhere to escape. His fingertips dug into his palms, the pain bringing him slightly to his senses, but the anger that had been forcibly intruded into his heart, and the panic of not knowing what to do, were like two fighting wild beasts, wreaking havoc within him.
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