Chapter 137: Return Home
The moon was high when Ling Yu finally returned to the flat assigned to their group. The fortress-city outside was alive even at this hour: watch patrols moved in twos along the streets, lanterns flickered faintly from the tall stone walls, and the constant hum of divine energy around the anchor in the city’s heart carried on like an eternal heartbeat. Yet for all its liveliness, the night air was heavy, pressing like an unseen hand against her skin.
She slipped silently through the main gate, her boots making no sound on the stone floor of the corridor. She wanted nothing more than to retreat quietly to her room, cleanse herself of the sour scent of wine and Xu Mochen’s cloying voice, and bury this night beneath layers of control.
But someone was already waiting for her return, without getting tired.
Song sat in the common room, a dim lantern burning low beside him. His posture was as composed as always, back straight, hands folded over one knee, but his eyes betrayed his vigil. They flicked up the instant the door creaked open.
"Master." His voice was low, but relief threaded through the single word.
Ling Yu froze for a heartbeat. A part of her had expected everyone to be asleep, after all, she had been gone far longer than she intended. But of course, Song wouldn’t sleep. He was always too perceptive and reliable.
Her lips quirked into a teasing smile, though her body still felt heavy from the night’s burden. "What, waiting here like a worried housekeeper? Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting here all night for me."
Song rose smoothly to his feet, his movements quiet but purposeful. He didn’t smile at her jab, though his eyes softened faintly, the hard steel in them easing. "I was making sure you came back. That’s all."
Ling Yu chuckled, tossing her cloak aside as she sauntered further into the room. "Mm, how dutiful. Should I reward you with a cup of tea or a pat on the head?"
He didn’t answer immediately, simply studying her face. It was that silence of his, one that wasn’t empty, but full, as though he weighed every word before speaking. At last, he said, "As long as you’re safe, that’s enough."
The words brushed against something in her chest, a string she hadn’t wanted to pluck tonight.
She almost laughed bitterly. If only he knew how close Xu Mochen’s filth had come to touching her. If only he knew how much restraint it had taken not to slit the man’s throat then and there.
She moved past him, dropping onto one of the cushioned chairs, stretching her legs out like a lazy cat. "Safe, hmm? You give me too much credit. This fortress is crawling with snakes. One misstep and even I could fall."
"You don’t misstep." Song’s voice was steady, his certainty cutting through her words. "You’ve never misstepped."
Ling Yu smirked faintly, though the amusement didn’t reach her eyes. "Flattery doesn’t suit you, Song."
The man tilted his head slightly, as though considering her. "It isn’t flattery. It’s a fact."
She looked at him then, really looked, and for a moment, the mask she always wore almost slipped. His unwavering gaze, his quiet strength, his way of standing there like an unshakable wall, it made her want to rest, to trust. To let down the armor for once.
But that wasn’t who she was anymore. Trust was a blade, and she’d been cut too many times to do that already.
However, she always trusted this man before her. It was an unwavering trust that Ling Yu was baffled when she looked back and suddenly realized it.
Ling Yu can entrust her life to Song without a second thought.
"Always so serious," she muttered, leaning her head back against the chair. "I told you that your handsome face will wrinkle early like that if you continue to be so serious all the time."
Song didn’t answer. Instead, his sharp eyes caught on something, just a faint discoloration on her skin, half-hidden by her collar. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly, his gaze sharpening.
"Your neck."
Ling Yu blinked, then instinctively lifted a hand to brush the spot where Xu Mochen’s drunken grasp had left its mark. It stung faintly beneath her fingers, though she’d ignored it entirely until now. A thin scrape, nothing serious, yet glaringly obvious under Song’s eyes.
She forced a laugh, waving it off with a flick of her wrist. "Oh, this? Just a little accident. Nothing worth fussing over."
Song didn’t move, his expression unreadable, but the silence that stretched between them was heavy. She could practically feel the questions he wasn’t asking, the sharpness he was biting back.
"You’ve been drinking," he said instead, quietly. Not accusatory, not disapproving, just a statement of fact.
Ling Yu tilted her head, giving him a sly smile. "What can I say? The so-called lord of this place has a heavy hand with the wine."
Song’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. His eyes flicked once more to her neck, then back to her face. But he didn’t press. He never did, not unless she wanted him to. That was what made him different.
"You should rest," he said finally, his voice low. "Tomorrow will be heavier than today."
Ling Yu’s smile softened, just a little. She could see it, the concern buried beneath his composure, the care he didn’t voice but always carried in his actions.
And for a moment, warmth stirred in her chest. She had spent so long surrounded by betrayal and enemies, by those who smiled to her face only to stab her back. To have someone like Song, someone she could rely on without words, was... really dangerous, to the point of being addictive.
She rose from the chair, moving closer until she was within arm’s reach of him. Tilting her head, she looked up at him with playful eyes. "You know, if you keep looking at me like that, people might mistake you for my overprotective elder brother."