Shen Mo did not know how he had walked out of that small room.
His legs were soft, and every step felt like he was treading on cotton.
The moonlight shining on the path ahead was a ghastly white, making his head swim.
He walked very slowly, like a man in the twilight of his life.
His lips were numb.
The tip of his tongue was numb as well.
That numbness spread from the depths of his mouth all the way to his throat, as if something were lodged there, making him want to vomit, yet he could not.
He thought back to just now.
He remembered those deep eyes, staring at him.
He remembered that hand pressed against the back of his neck, neither light nor heavy, just enough to keep him from breaking free.
He remembered her breathing, going from steady to rapid, and from rapid to —
He stopped thinking about it.
His stomach churned. Leaning against a tree by the roadside, he dry heaved several times.
Nothing came up.
Only tears, which had begun to fall again at some unknown moment.
He wiped his face harshly with his sleeve and continued forward.
……
Outside the Spirit Beast Garden, a young maid on night watch was dozing against a pillar.
Hearing footsteps, Chunlan subconsciously opened her eyes.
A weak, swaying figure walked out from the garden.
He had an exceptionally handsome face with features as gentle as jade, but at this moment, that face bore an expression she did not understand.
The corners of his eyes were red, and his lips were slightly swollen, as if by something —
Chunlan’s heart skipped a beat.
She did not dare look any longer, quickly lowering her head and shrinking back into the shadow of the pillar.
The man walked past her slowly, every step looking as if it took all his strength.
As he passed, Chunlan caught a scent.
It was the scent of Peak Master Qin.
That cold fragrance, carrying a faint hint of Sword Qi, now clung to every inch of the man’s body.
Chunlan’s head buzzed.
Only after the two of them had walked far away did she dare to look up.
Under the moonlight, Peak Master Qin stood behind the man, watching his back. Chunlan had never seen such a look before.
She knew that from tonight onward, some things had changed.
……
Shen Mo did not know how he had walked out of Heavenly Sword Peak.
He only remembered that Qin Shuying followed him the whole way, neither too close nor too far, always maintaining a distance of three steps.
He did not look back, but her gaze remained fixed on his back like two balls of fire, making his entire body feel scorched.
When they reached the mountain gate, she suddenly spoke.
“Shen Mo.”
He stopped but did not turn around.
Silence followed for a moment.
Then, that voice rang out again, slightly lower than before.
“That Spirit Crane will come for you again in a few days.”
Shen Mo said nothing.
“If you don’t come,” she paused, “I will go to Jiaoyue Peak to find you.”
There was a hint of a smile in those words.
Shen Mo clenched his hands inside his sleeves.
He continued forward.
After walking quite a distance, he looked back.
The area in front of the mountain gate was empty; that frost-white figure was long gone.
There was only the moonlight, shining coldly.
He slowly slid down to a sitting position, burying his head in his knees.
His lips were still numb.
The tip of his tongue was numb as well.
Vaguely mixed into that numbness was something else — her cold fragrance, the temperature of her breath, and the words she had whispered in his ear at the very end.
“Shen Mo, you can’t escape.”
He closed his eyes.
Tears fell once more.
Yet he did not know why they were falling.
‘Was it fear? Was it shame? Was it grievance? Or was it something else, something I don’t dare admit?’
He sat there like that for a long time.
He didn’t move until the morning light leaked through the gaps in the window and fell by his feet.
He suddenly looked up, staring at that light.
“Wan’er,” he rasped, his voice sounding terribly hoarse.
No one answered.
Under the moon, in the mountains, by the lake, there was only him.
He looked at the light and said, word by word, “I did it.”
His voice was very soft, as if he were only speaking to himself.
“I held on.”
As he spoke, the corners of his mouth pulled into a smile.
It was a hideous smile, looking more painful than a sob.
But he kept smiling.
Because he had done it.
He had not betrayed her.
He had not let that person have her way entirely.
Shen Mo told himself this.
Over and over again.
His lips were still numb.
That numbness seemed to serve as a reminder of what had just happened.
He bit his lip, pressing down hard until he almost drew blood.
It hurt.
Pain was good.
Pain could keep him sober.
Before he knew it, the sun began to rise slowly.
A new day had begun.
He should go to the Treasury, he should check the ledgers, and he should handle the trivial matters of the peak.
He should be like he always was — the virtuous Lord, the Husband whom no one cared about.
But he was still sitting on the ground, his body so weak he didn’t even have the strength to stand.
The numbness on his lips faded bit by bit.
But he knew that some things could never go back to the way they were.
……
Shen Mo stood by the lake for a long time.
The man reflected in the water still had slight red marks at the corners of his eyes, and his lips were still a bit swollen.
He soaked a handkerchief in the lake water and pressed it against his eyes, repeating the action over and over.
He continued until the redness faded and his face returned to the appearance others were familiar with — gentle, dignified, and virtuous.
He took a clean set of robes from his ring: a moon-white long shirt with the Jade Belt Su Wan’er had personally tied for him years ago around his waist.
Seven years had passed, but the Jade Belt remained warm and smooth, as if it had never changed.
He tied his hair back up, securing it with a jade hairpin placed perfectly straight.
The man in the water seemed to have returned to being the Lord of Jiaoyue Peak.
No one would be able to see anything.
No one would know anything.
He tugged at the corners of his mouth toward the reflection, forcing a gentle smile.
That smile was identical to his usual one — thoughtful, appropriate, and flawless.
By the time he returned to Jiaoyue Peak, the horizon was already turning the color of a fish’s belly.
……
Just as he reached the front courtyard, he saw a crowd of people rushing toward him.
Leading them was Butler Zheng, whose old face was as wrinkled as a dried orange peel and whose eyes were red.
Behind him followed seven or eight laborers, both men and women, each wearing an expression of relief as if they had just survived a disaster.
“Lord!” Butler Zheng rushed over in three steps, looking him up and down. “Lord, you’ve finally returned! I was worried to death!”
Shen Mo was slightly stunned. “What happened?”
“What happened?” Butler Zheng’s voice cracked. “Lord, you went down the mountain yesterday saying you were going to buy Talismans, but you were gone for the entire night! I sent people to the Marketplace three times to look for you, but we couldn’t find a trace! The people in the Marketplace were as tight-lipped as sawed-off gourds, shaking their heads at every question. My heart…”
As he spoke, his eyes grew redder.
Looking at him, Shen Mo felt an indescribable emotion well up in his heart.
An entire night.
These people had waited for him for an entire night.
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice even softer than usual. “I ran into some old friends last night and got delayed.”
“Old friends?” Butler Zheng looked at him suspiciously. “What kind of old friends could keep the Lord for a whole night? Lord, are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone bully you?”
As he spoke, he looked Shen Mo up and down again, his gaze lingering on his face for several rounds.
Shen Mo let him look.
He knew Butler Zheng wouldn’t see anything.
The red marks had faded, and his lips were no longer swollen. As he stood there now, he was no different from any other day.
“I’m really fine,” he said. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Uncle Zheng.”
Hearing him say “Uncle Zheng,” the butler’s eyes turned red again.
“Lord,” he choked out, “you can’t do this again. Your cultivation isn’t high, and those people outside are very shrewd. If you were tricked or bullied by someone, how could I explain it to the Peak Master?”
Shen Mo lowered his eyes.
“I understand,” he said, his voice remaining gentle. “It won’t happen again.”
Only then did Butler Zheng breathe a sigh of relief. He turned and waved his hand at the laborers. “Scatter, scatter! The Lord is back, everything is fine!”
The laborers dispersed, each turning back to look at Shen Mo before they left. Their gazes held worry, relief, and something else he didn’t quite understand.
Shen Mo stood there, letting those gazes fall upon him.
He suddenly felt a bit of a sour ache in his heart.
These people, whom he usually considered ordinary, actually cared about him this much.
But he said nothing, only nodding to each of them as they walked away.
Once everyone had left, Butler Zheng approached again.
“Lord, we’ve been so busy lately that I forgot to mention it. A messenger pigeon arrived a few days ago saying that the Peak Master’s eldest disciple, Eldest Senior Sister Lin Jingzhe, is returning from her travels soon. By my count, she should arrive today…”
Shen Mo froze.
Lin Jingzhe.
Su Wan’er’s eldest disciple and the Eldest Senior Sister among the current generation of Jiaoyue Peak disciples.
She had been taken under Su Wan’er’s wing early on and had spent years traveling with no word.
Shen Mo had never met her.
The year he married into the peak was the year Lin Jingzhe had left. For seven years, he had only heard of this Eldest Senior Sister’s reputation — extremely talented and incredibly proud. At the early Golden Core Stage, she had dared to venture into the Demon Realm alone. Even Su Wan’er had once said that this disciple was destined for great things.
And now.
She was back.
Shen Mo stood up and straightened his robes.
“Let’s go to the mountain gate.”
……
A crowd had already gathered at the mountain gate.
The disciples of Jiaoyue Peak had heard of their Eldest Senior Sister’s return and had dropped what they were doing to see the excitement.
Shen Mo pushed through the crowd and saw a figure walking up the mountain path in the distance.
The person didn’t walk fast, but every step seemed to carry weight. she wore black martial attire under a dark red cloak, her dark hair tied high, revealing a young face.
She was exceptionally beautiful, with a heroic air between her brows, a straight nose, and thin, pursed lips.
But when her eyes looked at people, they held a natural arrogance, as if asking, ‘Do people like you even deserve to stand before me?’
Lin Jingzhe.
Shen Mo repeated the name in his mind.
She drew closer.
The crowd automatically parted to make a path. She walked along it and came to a halt three steps in front of Shen Mo.
Their eyes met.
Shen Mo saw her eyes clearly. They were very bright, like two pieces of obsidian reflecting his shadow.
But as her gaze fell on him, it carried an undisguised scrutiny — looking from top to bottom, from his face to his feet, inch by inch.
It was as if she were looking at a — thing.
Shen Mo lowered his eyes.
“Sister Lin,” a disciple whispered nearby, “this is the Lord.”
Lin Jingzhe ignored the disciple.
She was still looking at Shen Mo.
She looked for a long time.
So long that the surrounding disciples began to exchange glances, and Shen Mo was almost about to speak.
Then, she suddenly let out a laugh.
The laugh was very light, sounding almost like disdain.
“Lord?” she spoke, her voice not loud, yet it reached everyone’s ears clearly. “Is this the Husband who managed the peak for my Master for seven years?”
Shen Mo looked up and met her gaze.
“It is I.”