Time passed slowly.
The moon rose higher, the stars flickering faintly. The silence almost made Bai Tian think that the young lady had already forgotten him.
But suddenly, Xuan Ying'er stopped carving. She gently placed the small knife aside, then turned to look at Bai Tian with deep eyes.
"I want to know…" she said suddenly, her voice soft yet piercing like a needle,
"if I asked you to do something that might go against your conscience… would you still do it?"
Xuan Ying'er did not wait for an answer. She smiled faintly, lifted the warm cup Bai Tian had just prepared, and sipped it slowly.
"It feels rather soothing, watching someone powerless," she said softly.
Hearing those words, Bai Tian felt as if a hammer had struck his chest. His heart boiled, wanting to curse the fate that had dragged him into such a tangled situation with this dangerous young lady. Yet he knew—remaining silent for too long could turn against him.
Finally, with a heavy yet polite tone, he replied,
"For the next half month… I choose you, my lady."
For a moment, silence returned. Xuan Ying'er's gaze shifted, her lips curved, and a faint laugh escaped.
"Hehe… truly, a shameless little man."
Her laughter was light, but behind it lingered amusement mixed with mockery.
Bai Tian lowered his head, his face unreadable—was it shame, anger, or resignation? In his heart, he growled: This woman is truly toying with my life.
"Come here," Xuan Ying'er's soft voice carried the weight of command.
Without many words, Bai Tian could only obey. He walked slowly, then sat down beside her. The distance between them was so close that he could smell the faint fragrance from her body, a scent that unsettled his thoughts.
Unknowingly, Xuan Ying'er let her body rest against Bai Tian's shoulder. That light touch made his heart pound wildly, as if it wanted to leap out of his chest. Her voice came soft, almost like a whisper in the silent night.
"Have you ever… loved someone?"
That question instantly froze Bai Tian. His tongue stiffened, his mind spun, yet no words could escape.
He pondered long, as though that simple question could shake the very foundation of his heart. He swallowed hard, lowering his head further, trying to avoid Xuan Ying'er's calm yet meaningful gaze.
Have I ever loved someone…?
Of course. But what use were such feelings? Slowly, Bai Tian drew a deep breath.
"I… have not."
His voice sounded heavy, as though something clogged his throat.
Xuan Ying'er lifted her head slightly, gazing at Bai Tian's face from the side. Her clear eyes shimmered faintly, as if trying to read the depth of his heart.
"Not? I heard you're already married… your wife is even very beautiful," she asked, her voice soft yet piercing.
Bai Tian clenched his teeth. Old wounds stirred, memories he tried to bury surfaced once more because of that simple question. Though he did not care about that marriage, it made him think of his parents.
For a moment, discomfort spread. The night wind blew gently, carrying the scent of flowers from the sect's garden. Xuan Ying'er did not respond immediately, only leaned back again on Bai Tian's shoulder, as if offering warmth in silence.
Yet for Bai Tian, every second felt like a dream. Feelings he had buried deep were now forced out by one woman's question.
Time passed.
At the top of Moonlight Hill, four figures stood bathed in silver light. Two servants kept watch on either side, while a young woman leaned calmly… and a man became her resting place.
Seeing this scene, the two servants exchanged brief glances. They knew well—their young lady usually kept herself distant and aloof from everyone. If not for that screaming incident before—the act of a scoundrel who dared to violate her—perhaps she would still be as cheerful as before, diligently immersed without the shadow of shame or anger etched into her heart.
Now, for them, this sight was rare: the proud, untouchable young lady… leaning peacefully against someone.
The servants exchanged another glance, then lowered their heads, holding back the storm of thoughts inside. They recorded the scene and sent it to Xuan Ying'er's parents.
Is this a good sign… or the beginning of chaos? one of them wondered silently. They knew their young lady was not one to easily open her heart—even with other women she kept her distance. And yet now, she looked so at ease leaning against a man.
Meanwhile,
Bai Tian sat stiffly. His shoulder felt light, yet unbearably heavy—light because of the softness of Xuan Ying'er's body, heavy because he knew how impossible the distance between them truly was. He wanted to move, yet feared breaking the fleeting tranquility.
Silence draped over Moonlight Hill.
The full moon hung high in the sky, shedding gentle silver light across the hill. The night wind carried the scent of deceptive blossoms sprouting among the stones, as if guarding the secret meeting of two souls.
The stars twinkled faintly, like the eyes of heaven peeking from afar. The rustling of leaves added a soft rhythm that accompanied the serenity.
Xuan Ying'er still leaned, her breath calm and steady, as though the moon and stars themselves bowed to the peace she created. Bai Tian dared not move at all. On the other side, the two servants kept watch silently, their eyes fixed on the scene while pretending not to see, as though this night truly existed only for their lady and the man beside her.
In the end, no words were spoken. Only the moon, wind, and stars bore witness, binding the secrecy into a memory that would not easily fade.
Dawn crept in slowly,
Golden light seeping through the window, unveiling dewdrops still clinging to leaves outside. Xuan Ying'er opened her eyes, her lids trembling slightly before full awareness returned.
Before she could rise from bed, a servant's voice came from beyond the door.
"My lady, there is a summons from madam."
Xuan Ying'er steadied herself for a moment, then with graceful motion adjusted her posture. With a light touch upon the communication artifact, a veil of light appeared, revealing the figure of an elegant middle-aged woman—her mother.
The woman gazed long at her daughter, her clear eyes like an ocean capable of swallowing every secret. There was a mother's warmth there, yet also the authority of a leader that could not be defied.
"Ying'er," she spoke softly, yet each syllable carried weight.
"I have already seen last night's recording."
Silence followed. Xuan Ying'er froze, her face expressionless, but her fingers unconsciously gripped the hem of her robe. She knew—in front of her mother, every lie would be easily stripped away.
Her mother's gaze grew sharper, as though testing her daughter's resolve.
"Tell me… was all that mere coincidence, or was it?"
Xuan Ying'er stared straight into the light's projection, her face calm, as if unshaken. In a flat tone, she replied,
"It was only coincidence, Mother. Nothing worth making much of."
Yet behind that calmness, a faint flicker passed through her eyes—something only a mother could catch.
The elegant woman on the other side smiled faintly, a smile filled with meaning.
"Coincidence?" she repeated slowly, as if testing. "If it was truly coincidence, why were you so close? Why?"
Xuan Ying'er fell silent, her heartbeat quickening slightly. She wanted to speak, but words froze in her throat. Instead, she curved her lips faintly, showing a subtle smile—one difficult to read, caught between challenge and hidden confession.
Her mother sighed deeply, her gaze softening yet remaining sharp.
"Ying'er… you are my daughter, and since that incident… you've become difficult to understand."
Silence weighed heavy once more. Only the ticking of moments passed, slow yet oppressive. Xuan Ying'er lowered her head slightly, her lashes trembling—not from shame, but because her own heart was being enveloped by doubts she couldn't name.
Finally, she moved. Her voice sounded flat, cold, like a whisper cutting through air.
"He is only… my little dog, Mother. Nothing more."
The words slipped out lightly, yet behind the coldness lay a faint tremor, almost inaudible.
The elegant woman did not respond immediately. Her experienced eyes gazed deeply at her daughter. A thin smile appeared, faint yet meaningful.
"If he is truly just a little dog," she spoke slowly, "why so close…? I know how hard it is for you to let anyone close, especially a man."
Xuan Ying'er raised her face again, this time with a calm, unshakable expression. Her lips curved faintly—a smile more mask than sincerity.
"Mother thinks too much," she said flatly, as if it were trivial conversation. "Rather, I want a little brother… someone who can keep me company, and… not be troublesome."
Her tone was soft, but beneath it lingered faint pretense. Her smile spread lightly—a mix of playfulness and sadness difficult to describe.
She looked back at her mother, her gaze shimmering deep, as if holding a secret only she knew. Calmly, she spoke:
"Ying'er has already sent a gift to Mother… there's no need for thanks."
Those words filled the room with riddles. The word "gift" slipped easily from her lips, yet its tone made the meaning ambiguous. Was it merely a metaphor? Or something truly real?
The elegant woman stared long at her daughter. Curiosity was clear in her eyes, yet she only gave a faint smile."A gift, hm…" she whispered softly, barely audible. "Very well. I shall look into it."
The light projection slowly dimmed, leaving tranquility within Xuan Ying'er's room.