The sun bore down relentlessly, its fiery rays searing the earth and drawing strength from Hengxiu and Zhao Renxian with each passing step.
Their faces were pale, drained of color, and their movements grew laboured under the weight of the heat.
Hengxiu's wound at her side had reopened during the fight, and blood now seeped through the fabric of her clothing. Zhao Renxian, though outwardly composed, was no better off—hidden wounds bled beneath his robes, each step threatening to betray his pain.
The air shimmered like a distant mirage, and the stifling heat robbed them of their breath, their endurance waning with every moment spent under the blazing sun.
Hengxiu pressed her hand to her side in an attempt to stem the bleeding, the sharp sting doing little to slow her resolve. Zhao Renxian, his steps faltering, cast a glance toward her as the oppressive heat weighed heavily on them both.
"Miss," Zhao Renxian finally spoke, his voice steady though strained. "If we press on in this state, our strength will fail us before long. Surely, it would be wise to seek shelter, if only to ensure we live to see another sunrise."
Hengxiu turned her masked face toward him but did not reply. Her silence carried the weight of her determination, leaving Zhao Renxian to wonder whether she had ignored his words or silently agreed. Even so, he did not press further, choosing instead to match her pace despite his own growing fatigue.
Around them, the path stretched endlessly ahead, barren and unforgiving.
The stones beneath their feet were hot to the touch, and the distant hum of cicadas only amplified the weight of the sweltering silence.
Zhao Renxian clenched his jaw and willed himself to continue, though the inn they sought seemed little more than a distant promise. Together, they trudged forward, their pain and exhaustion eclipsed only by their resolve to endure.
After what felt like an eternity under the unforgiving sun, Hengxiu's gaze fell upon a weathered wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. The inscription read: Jade Horizon Lodge. Relief flickered through her tired eyes—she had finally reached her destination.
The lodge stood modestly amidst the rugged terrain, its design both unassuming and inviting. Its walls, though simple, bore the charm of artistry in their carved wooden beams and neatly painted trim. A stone path led up to the entrance, flanked by carefully tended shrubs, their lush greenery a testament to the care taken here.
The building exuded a quiet refinement, a haven that promised comfort for weary travellers.
Despite its humble size, the lodge radiated a sense of versatility. It was welcoming enough for commoners, its affordable rates reflected in the simplicity of its decor, yet elegant enough to catch the attention of passing nobles with an eye for understated beauty.
The faint hum of voices and the smell of spiced broth wafted through the open windows, beckoning her toward the reprieve she so desperately sought.
Zhao Renxian noticed a slight change in Hengxiu's demeanour—a subtle relaxation of her shoulders—as her gaze landed on a weathered wooden sign ahead.
Turning to look, he read the words etched into its surface: Jade Horizon Lodge. A faint smile curved his lips. "Is this our destination?" he asked casually.
Hengxiu offered no reply, striding ahead with purpose. Arriving at the door, she paused briefly, her fingers brushing the frame as though steadying herself. Then, with a quiet breath, she pushed the door open.
The gentle chime of a bell rang out, its soft notes dispersing into the warm air within.
The interior was modest yet inviting, with polished wooden floors and a faint aroma of herbs and spiced broth lingering in the air.
Before Hengxiu could take another step, a young man rushed out from behind the desk, his movements quick and eager. "Good afternoon," he said with a polite bow, his voice bright. "How may I be of service?"
Hengxiu froze, her eyes fixed on the boy. Since waking in the hut, she hadn't uttered a single word—her voice lost to silence without explanation. Beneath her mask, her lips pressed into a faint pout, frustration flickering across her hidden features. Still, she said nothing.
It was Zhao Renxian who broke the moment, stepping forward with confidence.
Clearing his throat, he said, "A man by the name of Chen Liang recommended this place to us."
Noticing her wary gaze, Zhao Renxian offered her a bright, almost disarming smile. "Don't look so alarmed," he said lightly.
The young man's face shifted suddenly, his eyes widening as realisation seemed to dawn. Without another word, he excused himself hurriedly, disappearing behind a curtain at the back of the room. Moments later, an elderly woman emerged, her steps measured and deliberate.
The young man followed closely behind her, his head bowed slightly.
"Chen Liang, you say?" the old woman inquired, her raspy voice cutting through the quiet air. Her sharp gaze swept over Hengxiu and Zhao Renxian, lingering on each of them for a moment longer than necessary.
Hengxiu inclined her head politely, her posture composed and respectful. The old woman's eyes narrowed briefly before softening, though her expression remained guarded.
Turning to the young man, she said, "Ah-Yang, take them to their room."
"That room?" Ah-Yang asked hesitantly, his voice low.
The old woman nodded firmly. "Yes, that room."
Ah-Yang's unease was palpable, but he nodded nonetheless and gestured for Hengxiu and Zhao Renxian to follow him. The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly against the wooden floor as they moved towards the stairs.
After ascending the creaking wooden stairs, Ah-Yang came to a halt before a large, intricately carved door. "This is your room," he said, his tone polite but brisk. "There are two bedrooms inside, so you will not need to share one."
With a slight bow, he turned to leave, but Hengxiu stepped forward swiftly, reaching into her pouch. She withdrew eight jade coins and extended them toward him. Ah-Yang blinked in surprise before shaking his head firmly and pushing the coins back into her hand.
"It is fine," he said, his voice steady but kind. "Since Brother Chen recommended this place, it means he trusts you."
Before Hengxiu could respond, Ah-Yang sniffed the air faintly, his expression shifting to one of quiet concern. "I'll bring bandages and disinfectants," he added, his tone softening. "Please, have a seat in the meantime."
Bowing once more, he descended the stairs quickly, leaving Hengxiu standing in quiet confusion and Zhao Renxian watching with his ever-present smile.
Zhao Renxian's gaze lingered on Ah-Yang's retreating figure before shifting to Hengxiu's back. A flicker of something dark crossed his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. 'It was a good choice to follow her,' he thought, his expression unreadable. 'Perhaps my goal will be achieved far more easily than I anticipated.'
Letting his smile return, he gestured toward the door. "Let's go inside for now," he suggested, his voice light but pointed. "The blood on your side has completely soaked through your robe."
Hengxiu's dark eyes bore into Zhao Renxian's, unflinching and steady. For a fleeting moment, he felt as though she could see into the depths of his soul, unravelling the layers he carefully guarded.
His light-coloured eyes locked onto hers, unable to break the connection, as if severing it would seal his fate in an instant.
The air between them grew heavy with unspoken tension, the silence speaking volumes.
Hengxiu, unwavering, shifted her gaze away, breaking the spell. Without hesitation, she pushed open the door.
The room beyond was simple yet elegant, a reflection of the lodge's dual appeal.
Warm wooden walls framed the space, their surface polished to a soft sheen. A pair of low tables stood in the centre, flanked by cushioned stools. In one corner, a delicate screen painted with bamboo swayed slightly in the breeze coming through an open window.
The faint aroma of sandalwood lingered in the air, mingling with the quiet sound of rustling leaves outside.
Two adjoining bedrooms, separated by sliding doors, lay at the far end of the space.
Each featured neatly arranged bedding and delicate lanterns that cast a soft glow across the woven mats on the floor. A basin of water rested near the window, reflecting the golden afternoon light that filtered through thin curtains.
Zhao Renxian stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over the room with practised ease. The refined yet understated design mirrored the inn's atmosphere—welcoming, yet carrying an air of sophistication.
He glanced at Hengxiu, whose mask hid any reaction she may have had to the space.
"Comfortable enough," Zhao Renxian remarked, his tone light though his gaze flickered briefly to the blood-soaked fabric at her side. "But first, we should tend to your wounds. You'll ruin the floor at this rate."
Hengxiu turned slightly, her expression unreadable as she stepped further into the room. The soft sound of footsteps and the echo of the closing door settled around them, leaving the moment suspended in quiet anticipation.
A light knock echoed through the room, soft yet deliberate. "I have brought the supplies," Ah-Yang's voice called from the other side of the door.
Zhao Renxian stepped forward, his movements fluid but measured, and opened the door. Ah-Yang stood there with a bundle of bandages and small bottles neatly arranged on a wooden tray.
He handed them over with practised care before bowing slightly. "If you require anything more, please do not hesitate to call." His words carried a tone of earnestness, but his departure was swift, his footsteps receding down the stairs before the silence returned.
Closing the door, Zhao Renxian turned toward Hengxiu, who remained by the window.
The fading light bathed her figure in muted tones, the breeze rustling faintly against her robes.
He approached her, holding out the bandages. "Here," he said simply, his voice steady but without a trace of playfulness. "Wrap your wound. I'll attend to mine."
Hengxiu's movements were deliberate as she accepted the bandages, her demeanour neither hostile nor grateful—just indifferent.
She turned away, her gaze flicking briefly to the large painted screen in the corner. Behind it lay a space for bathing, complete with a sturdy wooden tub brimming with cool water, its surface faintly reflecting the soft glow of the room's lanterns.
Without a word, Hengxiu stepped behind the screen, her figure disappearing from Zhao Renxian's view.
The faint rustle of fabric and the muted sound of water being drawn created a quiet rhythm within the room. Zhao Renxian lingered for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the window where shadows danced against the walls.
He pressed a hand lightly against his ribs, feeling the sharp sting of his wounds before setting to work with the remaining bandages.
As Hengxiu worked behind the screen, the faint sound of water splashing punctuated the quiet room.
She wrapped her side carefully, the makeshift bandage clinging tightly to her wound. Despite the throbbing pain, her movements were calm and precise, reflecting the discipline ingrained in her actions.
Zhao Renxian, meanwhile, settled himself near the low table in the centre of the room.
He unbuttoned the top of his robe with measured effort, revealing the deep gashes hidden beneath. The sight might have unsettled others, but Zhao Renxian simply smirked faintly to himself, his fingers deftly handling the bandages Ah-Yang had brought.
With practised ease, he began tending to his injuries, though he paused now and then, stealing glances at the screen.
"Did Chen Liang also tell you to take an injury like this lightly?" Zhao Renxian muttered under his breath, shaking his head in mock disapproval as he tightened the bandage around his arm.
Hengxiu, still behind the screen, ignored his remark, focusing entirely on her task. Her silence, much like her presence, spoke volumes—an unyielding wall that Zhao Renxian found both frustrating and fascinating.
When she finally stepped out from behind the screen, her movements were deliberate, her posture upright despite the strain she must have felt.
Zhao Renxian glanced at her briefly, his bandages now secured, and offered a half-smile. "You know," he said casually, "for someone who doesn't speak, you have quite the commanding presence."
Hengxiu shot him a cool look, her dark eyes sharp as ever, before walking past him toward the window once more.
She paused there, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the land.
The room fell quiet again, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards and the rustle of the curtains in the breeze. Zhao Renxian leaned back slightly, observing her with a curious yet unreadable expression.
"You and I are not so different, I think," he remarked thoughtfully, his tone softer this time. "Both of us seem to keep our secrets close."
Hengxiu didn't turn, her focus remaining on the view outside. Yet her stillness carried an air of contemplation, as though his words had resonated, even if she wouldn't admit it.
Hengxiu stood by the window, the soft evening light casting a warm glow over her figure.
She gently swept her hair away from her face, the motion unhurried yet graceful, as though it were second nature. Her white mask remained firmly in place, concealing the right side of her face, though its presence only added to the quiet enigma she carried.
Zhao Renxian's gaze lingered on her from where he sat, bandages still coiled loosely in his hands.
Her silhouette against the window was striking—elegant, poised, and untouchable, like a figure painted on silk.
Even as she kept her face partly hidden, the bare side that was visible hinted at a beauty that bordered on ethereal. Her features were sharp yet soft, her skin smooth and unmarred by the world's cruelty.
But Zhao Renxian couldn't help wondering about what lay beneath the mask.
His thoughts drifted, his expression faintly contemplative. 'Is it vanity? No… it doesn't feel like that. Or perhaps she hides something—a scar.' The thought intrigued him, though he didn't allow his curiosity to show.
By the window, Hengxiu glanced briefly at the water bowl resting on the sill. The fragmented reflection of her left side stared back at her, perfect in its serenity.
Her dark eyes flickered with something beneath the calm—a weight, perhaps, or a memory she didn't wish to revisit. She turned away from it, her thoughts kept firmly to herself, as always.
"You wear that mask so well," Zhao Renxian remarked lightly, breaking the silence. His tone carried its usual air of playfulness, but his eyes sharpened, searching for even the slightest reaction.
"One wonders whether it's the mask that hides your face or the face that hides behind the mask."
Hengxiu didn't reply, her gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the window. The soft evening breeze stirred the curtains, and for a moment, she seemed a statue come to life—distant and unyielding.
Zhao Renxian let out a soft chuckle, leaning back as he resumed wrapping his wounds. 'One day,' he thought, 'I'll figure out what it is you're hiding.'