As the Rolls-Royce glided smoothly through the bustling streets, Qin Yu'er turned to Mo Fan, a thoughtful expression crossing her delicate features. Something had been nagging at her ever since they finalized the deal. She broke the silence, her voice curious but edged with hesitation.
"Mo Fan," she began, "wouldn't it have been simpler to just tell them we were from China? Why go through the trouble of pretending to be part of a Russian conglomerate?"
Mo Fan leaned back in his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her question. His tone was measured, yet there was a weight behind his words. "Your identity is a lot trickier, Qin Yu'er. Right now, you're still considered a heretic of the Sacred City."
The weight of his words hit her like a cold gust of wind. She stiffened slightly, but Mo Fan continued, his tone steady and intent. "The Sacred City isn't like any ordinary power. They make the rules of this world, and those rules are absolute. And you know how the Sacred City works—they don't need a reason or proof. If they've marked you as a criminal, then to the world, that's what you are, whether it's true or not."
Qin Yu'er's breath caught. She hadn't thought about the Sacred City in a long time, deliberately keeping those memories buried. But now, Mo Fan's words brought them rushing back.
Her soul still carried the Archangel's stigma, an indelible mark of condemnation.
As long as she'd remained trapped in the Crack of Tianshan, the Sacred City had allowed her existence. But the moment she escaped, she had become a fugitive—a target. If the Sacred City discovered she was free, they would stop at nothing to erase her from existence.
Even Mo Fan, might not be able to protect her if they found out.
Had it not been for him, taking care of the Angel who was supposed to be watching over the Tianshan, she wouldn't even have had the chance to breathe in the outside world.
But her freedom came at a cost, even now, Mo Fan has to send fake reports to the Sacred City every month, making them believe that she is still there. If they were to ever find out the truth, not only she but Mo Fan was also putting himself in danger! He would be branded as a heretic too and will be wiped out as well!
Mo Fan gave her a faint smile, attempting to soften the gravity of his words. "Besides, your appearance works to our advantage. You look distinctly Russian—so much so that you could easily pass as half-Chinese, half-Russian. That's why I spun the story. It keeps you safer this way."
Qin Yu'er stared at him, her mind whirling. The silence in the car grew heavy as she processed his explanation. She clenched her fists slightly, as the reality of her situation began to sink in once more. The endless solitude, the cold, the crushing weight of knowing she was a prisoner of her own fate—it all came rushing back.
Mo Fan's intervention had been her salvation. He had offered her not just freedom but also a semblance of a normal life.
For the first time in years, she had been able to live like an ordinary person, to laugh, to explore, to dream.
She had almost forgotten the shadow that loomed over her past, the chains that still threatened to bind her at any moment.
But now, she was reminded. She hadn't escaped entirely; she was merely living on borrowed time, her fragile freedom tethered to Mo Fan's careful schemes.
Qin Yu'er turned her gaze toward the window, her reflection faintly visible against the glass.
When Mo Fan had arrived at the penthouse with Ye Xinxia, he had given her a choice: to live for herself, to reclaim her life, or to let her past continue to weigh her down.
It was those words that had stopped her from running off to search for Zhankong, her long-lost lover. For the first time, she had wanted to live freely, without ties, without chains, and without regrets.
She had been selfish, hadn't she? She'd taken this life for granted, basking in the solace Mo Fan had given her without fully understanding the risks he had taken on her behalf. And all the while, she had been clinging to her own fragile dreams—dreams of living freely, dreams of one day reuniting with Zhankong.
But now, she realized she owed him far more than she'd ever acknowledged.
The car's interior remained silent, the hum of the engine the only sound. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Mo Fan's eyes were fixed on the bustling streets outside the window, but his thoughts lingered on Qin Yu'er's sudden change in demeanour. He could sense the weight of realization settling over her, a heaviness that made the previously vibrant energy between them feel distant.
Qin Yu'er clasped her hands tightly on her lap, her gaze cast downward. Her usually calm and composed aura now seemed tinged with vulnerability. She broke the silence, her voice soft but tinged with bitterness.
"I really thought I could forget it all… for a while," she admitted, her tone carrying a quiet sadness.
Mo Fan turned to her, his dark eyes steady but compassionate. "It's not about forgetting, Qin Yu'er. It's about moving forward despite everything."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she raised her head to meet his gaze. "Easy for you to say. You're not living under someone else's stigma. You're not constantly reminded that your very existence is a crime in the eyes of the world's self-proclaimed guardians."
Mo Fan chuckled slightly, "You're right. I'm not. But I've faced my own share of enemies who thought they could dictate who I am, who I should be. The Sacred City might think they hold power over you, but they don't. Not really."
Qin Yu'er let out a soft, bitter laugh. "It's not that simple, Mo Fan. Their rules aren't just about physical chains; they're about erasing your soul. They'll never stop hunting me."
"They can't hunt what they don't see," Mo Fan replied, his voice low but resolute. "You're alive now, Qin Yu'er. You're free, even if it's not in the way you imagined..."
Mo Fan paused for a bit, then his eyes glowed with a Blood Black hue as he glanced at her, "As long as I'm around, the Sacred City won't lay a finger on you. I promise you that."
Her eyes widened. She knew Mo Fan wasn't one for empty assurances, but the depth of his conviction still caught her off guard. The power and aura behind what Mo Fan just said made her feel... safe and secured...
"Why are you so willing to take on their wrath for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mo Fan leaned back, his expression softening. "Because I know what it's like to have the world against you. And because I owe you."
"Owe me?" she repeated, her brows furrowing.
"For what you've endured," Mo Fan said simply. "For what they took from you. For what you've sacrificed to survive. If I can give you even a fraction of the freedom you deserve, then it's worth it."
Qin Yu'er felt a lump rise in her throat. She had always thought of herself as self-reliant, someone who didn't need saving. Yet, here was Mo Fan, carrying her burdens alongside his own without hesitation.
"I don't know what to say…" she admitted, her voice faltering.
"You don't have to say anything," Mo Fan replied with a faint smile. "Just don't forget that you have the right to live for yourself. That's all I want for you."
The silence returned, but this time it was different—less heavy, more reflective. Qin Yu'er turned her gaze back to the window, the city lights casting fleeting patterns across her face.
Mo Fan finally broke the silence. "You don't have to carry the burden of the past all at once, Qin Yu'er," he said gently. "We're in this together. If you ever feel like the walls are closing in, just know you've got me behind you."
Qin Yu'er turned her head to look at him, "Mo Fan... thank you," she said quietly, her voice laced with sincerity.
Mo Fan grinned, his usual mischievousness returning. "Well, someone has to keep you out of trouble. You're so good looking that you're not only attracting attention but trouble as well~"
Seeing Mo Fan trying to lighten the mood with his usual goofiness, Qin Yu'er couldn't held herself back, she shifted towards Mo Fan and embraced him gently!
"?!"