"Xue… Liulan?" Murong Jin stared. Rain blurred her vision—but not his face. He wiped the disguise away and turned to meet her gaze.
Clear, handsome features. A faint, lazy smile. Eyes she would never forget.
He reached out, his gaze falling to the blood on her lips. "Murong Jin, are you hurt?"
She shook her head, numb, and looked up at the rain. Water streamed down her cheeks. Rain, or tears? She couldn't tell.
"The antidote," he said, his voice cold as he turned to the giant.
The giant was cradling the woman in violet, sobbing softly, ignoring him.
"Give me the antidote, and I'll let you go." He held his hand out, blocking the giant's view.
"Is she… alive?" the giant's voice rumbled. It was the last thing she heard.
In the haze, someone was calling her name. Who? Not her father. Not Zuo Xunxiao. Someone else.
She slowly opened her eyes. A figure stood by the bed, his brow deeply furrowed, his dark eyes filled with a profound sorrow.
"Xue Liulan?" she rasped.
The tension in his face broke. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "I'm here. Better?"
"Mm." She tried to sit up.
He quickly moved to support her.
"Where are we?"
The room was bare. A table, a simple wooden bed. The blankets smelled of mildew, but she was used to worse.
"A hunter's cabin, on the clifftop," he answered. "How's your shoulder?"
She shook her head. "You know martial arts," she said. "From Chengyan Valley."
He froze. The secret was out.
"Siyou and I both trained there," he said slowly, picking up a bowl of medicine. "He inherited his mother's illness. Our eldest brother suggested he study under a master, to strengthen his body. I went with him."
"So you've been a master swordsman all this time." Her gaze was fixed on something in the distance.
"Yes. Personal disciples of Master Jing Tai." He took a sip of the medicine. "Here. It's not hot."
"You've been hiding it from everyone." Including me.
He was speechless. The trust between them was as thin as paper.
"I didn't intend to hide it from you."
"You intended to hide it from the Murong family?" she asked, her voice cold.
"More importantly, from Guo Shangzhong," he said with a helpless laugh. "Jin, you know as well as I do that none of them—not your family, not Guo Shangzhong, not even the Dengs—want to serve a wise ruler."
She looked down. "Incompetence is your best disguise. I understand. Give me the medicine. Thank you."
He froze. He had expected an argument. Not this calm acceptance.
He pulled the bowl back as she reached for it. She missed.
"What?"
"You're still angry, aren't you?"
"No." But the disappointment in her eyes betrayed her.
"You are." He sighed and gently set her back, sitting before her. "Murong Jin, I was wrong to hide it from you."
"No," she said, her voice flat.
"How can I make you forgive me?" he asked, leaning in, their noses almost touching. "Or can't you?"
She instinctively pushed against his chest, but the movement sent a jolt of pain through her shoulder. She winced.
"Alright. After you've healed," he said, straightening up. He turned his back to her. "Your pincer movement worked. Zuo Xunxiao is closing in on the Yanyun's central command. Our losses weren't severe."
She looked at his back, a dull ache in her heart.
"Does that trust still stand?" she finally asked, her voice a whisper.
He didn't turn. "Between you and me, if we could shed our titles, we would be honest. But we are not our own masters."
"Why was the Yin-Yang Harmony here? Why were Chengyan Valley's forbidden arts in Yanyun territory?" she pressed.
Something in her tone—half doubt, half fear—cut deeper than a blade.
He whipped around, his voice sharp. "Are you implying I orchestrated this?"
"I…" She was stunned.
"Murong Jin, in your heart, am I that kind of petty man? A bastard who would risk the dynasty for his own ambition?" He slammed his hand against the headboard, trapping her.
"No, you're not." She grabbed his arm, shaking her head. "You've never been that kind of person."
Her frantic explanation, the desperate grip on his arm, made him look down. The white fabric of her under-robe was soaked with blood.
"Your wound has reopened." The sight of it made his heart clench. He gently took her hands, his voice softening.
"I never thought that of you."
"Alright, I know. A moment of anger." He pulled her into his arms, his voice a soothing whisper.
"Even if you hide things," she mumbled into his chest, "I still trust who you are."
His hand, stroking her hair, froze. For that one sentence, anything he did for her would be worth it.
"Alright, a great general, acting like this," he teased, resting his chin on her head. "If your soldiers saw you, how would you lead them?"
"Then I won't lead them." Her uninjured arm wrapped around his waist. "At that moment, I thought, if I can just get out of this alive, I want to stay by your side."
"Oh?"
"Only when you face death do you realize who you truly care about," she said softly. "My father. And you. I won't give up on either of you."
"So, you're also telling me not to get rid of my allies once I've won?" He knew that wasn't what she meant, but he couldn't help it. The Murong Jin he knew had never lived for herself.
She punched him lightly on the back. "My father is your father-in-law. You should know what to do."
He laughed. "I understand. But, on one condition."
"Hm?"
"If you gave him a grandson, I imagine he'd be very happy." He grinned. "If you give me a son, I'll naturally do good deeds in his name."
She blushed, her fist landing softly on his chest. "You're never serious."
"Ugh," he grunted. Her light punch had landed right on his old wound.
"What is it?" she asked, alarmed. He just shook his head, a pained grin on his face. The tension finally broke. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and began to laugh.