Chapter 11 : A Missed Embrace

The first step in learning to ride is naturally mounting the horse—if one can’t even get on, how could they possibly ride?

Standing on the left side of the horse, Lin Ting’s gaze was intense. 

She was both excited at the prospect of riding and nervous about learning something new, fearing failure. 

For the moment, she set aside her mission.

Unlike her eagerness, Duan Ling remained calm.

As a Jinyiwei, he often carried out pursuits and captures. 

To stop a target, they used any means necessary—killing people or even killing horses was commonplace.

He had ridden horses, and he had shot them down. 

He had watched their bodies tremble, their painful struggles, their feeble cries. 

Some even shed tears before their limbs finally went limp, unable to escape death.

Duan Ling had little sentiment for human life, even less for a horse’s.

Seeing Lin Ting still standing at the horse’s side without making a move, he handed her the reins. 

“Seventh Miss Lin, mount the horse.”

She reached out to take them, her fingertips accidentally brushing against his. 

Duan Ling’s gaze flickered toward the point of contact before he calmly withdrew his hand. 

“Step onto the stirrup with your left foot, hold onto the saddle, and push yourself up with a bit of force.”

“Alright.”

Lin Ting followed his instructions but failed to mount—the horse moved restlessly. 

Unwilling to admit defeat, she tried a few more times but still couldn’t manage. 

A thin layer of sweat formed on her forehead. 

“Master Duan, could you demonstrate once?”

Duan Ling had been watching from the sidelines. 

At her request, he stepped forward to take her place. 

As the horse moved, he mounted in one fluid motion, his body landing effortlessly in the saddle, his long legs firmly secured in the stirrups.

He didn’t stay on for long. 

After demonstrating, he dismounted, giving her time to practice.

As Duan Ling dismounted, Lin Ting’s gaze traced the curve of his waist. 

His narrow frame was wrapped in a red belt, emphasizing his lean yet powerful build, whether viewed from the front or side.

For a fleeting moment, Lin Ting had the urge to sneak up behind him and embrace him. 

He was facing away, making it the perfect opportunity. 

But hugging someone from behind was too much like an affectionate gesture—one with consequences she might not be able to handle. 

She held back.

She forcibly averted her gaze, which had been fixated on his waist as if it were magnetized.

At that moment, Duan Ling turned toward her, catching the tail end of her lingering glance. 

Instinctively, he lowered his gaze to check his waist—he had a scented sachet, a jade pendant, and a sharp dagger for self-defense. 

Nothing unusual.

Yet her expression just now was unmistakable—she had been eyeing something with longing.

Duan Ling had interrogated countless criminals, observing their eyes during questioning to extract unspoken truths. 

Fear, disgust, defiance—no matter how well someone tried to hide their emotions, their eyes always betrayed them.

Eyes couldn’t lie, and his instincts were rarely wrong.

So, what exactly did Lin Ting desire? 

The scented sachet? 

The jade pendant? 

Or the dagger meant for killing?

Duan Ling’s grip tightened slightly on the reins, his expression unreadable. 

He spoke as if nothing had happened. 

“Try again.”

Lin Ting seemed disheartened by repeated failures and hesitated to approach the horse. 

Yet, as she snuck a sideways glance at Duan Ling, she asked, “If I fall, Master Duan, will you catch me?”

“The biggest mistake in learning to ride is fear. The more afraid you are, the harder it is to succeed.”

He didn’t answer directly, but Lin Ting could read between the lines—he wouldn’t catch her. 

If she pretended to fall, she’d only end up actually falling and getting hurt.

Lin Ting pursed her lips. 

Her plan to stage a fall in hopes of being caught—and seizing the opportunity to embrace him—wasn’t going to work. 

She needed a different approach.

She lifted her leg, placed her foot in the stirrup, and deliberately put on an act—looking as though she was eager but unable to mount. 

The first few attempts had been genuine failures; this time, it was intentional.

“Still not working.” 

A flicker of mischief flashed through Lin Ting’s eyes, but when she looked up, she only showed frustration.

The horse, unwittingly being used in her scheme, flicked its dark brown tail, snorted, and took a step forward, lazily grazing on some grass.

Afraid of pulling too hard on the reins and hurting the horse, Lin Ting moved along with it.

Suddenly, Duan Ling reached out, his arm brushing past hers as he firmly grasped the front section of the reins and pulled back. 

The horse was forced to lift its head.

“When leading a horse, you should be the one guiding it, not the other way around.”

The reins controlled the horse, and with his single tug, it could no longer wander at will. 

It let out a few reluctant whinnies before stepping back.

“You need to pay attention.” 

With that, Duan Ling handed the reins back to her.

Lin Ting stroked the horse’s smooth mane as if to comfort it. 

“Isn’t it said that to ride well, one must first build a good relationship with the horse—become its friend?”

Duan Ling looked straight ahead and replied calmly, “I don’t know how others learn to ride. I only know that when I first learned, I was taught to control it—completely and utterly.”

Preoccupied with her own thoughts, Lin Ting absentmindedly responded, “Oh,” before glancing toward the other side of the racetrack.

With Xia Zimo’s assistance, Duan Xinning had already mounted her horse. 

From afar, they resembled a pair of refined lovers—the young lady, delicate and elegant as a peach blossom, and the gentleman, charming and upright, exuding effortless grace.

Riding a horse was vastly different from walking on the ground. 

Duan Xinning, timid by nature, couldn’t help but let out anxious cries for help. 

Each time, Xia Zimo would chuckle, offering a few teasing words to lighten her mood.

The golden sunlight bathed them, reflecting the shift in Duan Xinning’s expression—from fear to laughter.

Xia Zimo also held onto part of the reins, ensuring she wouldn’t lose control of her horse. 

His eyes never left her, his gaze direct and sincere—anyone could see his affections for her.

Lin Ting mused. 

This scoundrel really did win Duan Xinning’s heart with nothing but a handsome face and a silver tongue.

Thinking about the word hug, Lin Ting was abruptly pulled back to reality—to the mission of embracing Duan Ling.

Sensing her distraction, Duan Ling followed her gaze, landing on Duan Xinning and Xia Zimo. 

Though their actions were proper, there was an undeniable air of intimacy between them.

Unfazed, he asked casually, “What is Seventh Miss Lin looking at?”

“I’m looking at Lingyun.”

Lin Ting tilted her head slightly, causing the orange silk ribbon tying her hair to slide over her shoulder, swaying gently in the air. 

The color was striking—gradually transitioning from deep to light, giving the illusion of flowing movement.

Silk ribbons often carried their owner’s scent. 

A faint fragrance drifted into the breeze, reaching Duan Ling’s nose just as the orange ribbon caught his eye. 

“Just looking at her?”

She turned to him. 

“What else?”

Duan Ling chuckled. 

“I’ve heard that most noble ladies in the capital wish to marry the heir of the Marquis of Shian. I assumed you were among them.”

What?! 

Me, liking Xia Zimo? 

Where did this nonsense come from? 

Lin Ting’s eye twitched, and she blurted, “Absolutely not! I can clearly see that Lingyun fancies him.”

“My sister’s affections for the Marquis’s heir do not prevent you from having the same.”

Lin Ting pressed a finger against her still-twitching eyelid. 

“Master Duan, forgive my bluntness, but why do you think I have feelings for Xia Zimo?”

Duan Ling met her gaze steadily, speaking at an unhurried pace. 

“If you had no interest in the heir, why would you secretly investigate his preferences and record them in a book?”

“That was for Lingyun. She asked me to help her. If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself.”

His voice was calm. 

“I see. You and Lingyun have always been close. What she liked, you liked as well. I assumed this was no different.”

Laughter and the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed from the other side of the riding field, emphasizing the silence between them. 

Even though Duan Ling was speaking, his voice was quiet.

Yet no matter the distractions around her, Lin Ting focused solely on his words.

Duan Ling let his horse nuzzle against him before murmuring, “I must have been mistaken. After all, people and objects are not the same—they cannot be equated.”

Lin Ting knew that Duan Ling wasn’t particularly affectionate toward Duan Xinning. 

He had a weak sense of familial attachment, but he would never allow a Duan family member to be used or humiliated.

He likely thought Duan Xinning was simply foolish—easily manipulated.

“You’re right, Master Duan,” Lin Ting said after studying him for a moment. 

“People and objects are not the same—they cannot be equated.” 

Then, as if deciding something, she added, “Master Duan, help me onto my horse.”

“You want me to help you mount?”

Her eyes held expectation. 

“I keep failing to get on. If I spend all my time on this one step, I won’t even get the chance to experience sitting in the saddle before heading home.”

“Very well, then.” 

Duan Ling stepped closer, taking the reins from her hands. 

“Step into the stirrup. I’ll lift you up.”

Lin Ting wanted to follow his instructions, but the moment he drew near, she couldn’t help but glance at his waist.

This is the perfect distance to hug him.

To hug or not to hug? 

If she did, what excuse would she use? 

She refused to claim, I’ve admired you for a long time. 

What if he believed it? 

That would be a disaster. 

But if she didn’t do it… her mission would remain incomplete.

Duan Ling’s gaze remained steady. 

“Seventh Miss Lin, you’re distracted.”

She quickly averted her eyes. 

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to. I just saw a butterfly land on your waist, so I looked a little longer.”

“A butterfly?” 

He instinctively glanced down.

Seizing the moment, Lin Ting released the reins and mimicked a fluttering motion with her hand. 

With a dramatic flourish, she imitated a nonexistent butterfly, complete with sound effects. 

“It flew away in a flash—a very beautiful blue butterfly.”

Duan Ling glanced at her still-moving hand, seeming to believe her. 

“A shame. I didn’t get to see it. Well, what is not meant to be should not be forced. Let’s get you onto your horse.”

Before she could react, he placed his hands around her waist and hoisted her up.

The perspective from atop the horse was vastly different from the ground. 

Green pastures stretched before her, and the wind rushed past her ears, creating an exhilarating illusion of freedom, as though she could gallop across the plains, unrestrained.

Lin Ting took a deep breath and cautiously nudged her horse forward a few steps. 

Duan Ling stood back, hands behind his back, letting her move ahead without following.

The horse was obedient, trotting smoothly as she made a lap around the riding field.

Returning to the starting point, Lin Ting dismounted and immediately ran toward Duan Ling. 

She planned to feign excitement—pretending that her first time riding left her unable to stop herself, causing her to crash into him for an embrace.

More importantly, if this failed, the consequences were far less severe than falling off a horse.

She was essentially taking a gamble.

At first, Duan Ling made no move to evade. 

Lin Ting took this as a good sign and didn’t slow down.

However, just as she was about to reach him, he neither caught her nor stopped her—he merely stepped aside.

Lin Ting barreled forward, stumbled on the grass, and rolled unceremoniously into a haystack.