"Check the surroundings!"

The voice was firm, authoritative, cutting through the stillness with a precision that immediately set Xu Moyao on edge. He didn't have to think twice. The unmistakable voice of Jiang Ligxian—that was a signal of safety, of a kind of order finally breaking through the chaos. Xu Moyao felt a flicker of relief deep within him, though he didn't let it show. His focus never wavered from the man in his arms.

Just moments before, Li Wuxin had leaned in, but something in the tension of the moment, or perhaps the distant sound of approaching voices, made him hesitate. Instead, he slowly lay back down, resting his head on Xu Moyao’s knees, his breathing shallow, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

Xu Moyao kept him close, one hand gently resting on his damp forehead, trying to offer some comfort in this moment of uncertainty.

"Here!" Xu Moyao called out, his voice hoarse but clear. "In the cave!"

The footsteps grew faster, more determined. Three figures appeared in the soft, filtered light at the entrance. Jiang Ligxian was the first to step through, his presence commanding and steady, followed by Lan Boxiao and Lu Xioquian carrying a bag filled with medical supplies and a small kit. The moment Jiang Ligxian entered, his eyes flicked to the two men on the ground, sitting cross-legged, Xu Moyao cradled Li Wuxin's head in the quiet space of his lap. The young man had curled up against him, his uneven breath mingling with the steady warmth of the one who watched over him in silence. He dropped to his knees without hesitation beside Xu Moyao.

"Wounded?" Jiang Ligxian asked, his voice tinged with worry, yet controlled by years of leadership.

"He has lost consciousness," Xu Moyao replied quickly, his voice steady, despite the worry bubbling beneath the surface. "A fever, I think. He held on until now."

Lu Xioquian immediately checked Li Wuxin's pulse. Her brow furrowed slightly.

"He's dehydrated. We need to move him, but carefully,"Lan Boxiao said, her voice laced with quiet urgency.

Lan Boxiao, a little farther away, scanned every corner of the cave with her sharp eyes, ensuring there was no immediate threat. When she was satisfied, she approached, her gaze now focused on her master, the one who had led them through countless trials.

"Master... we must go" she murmured, her usually steady voice betraying a slight tremor. Jiang Ligxian glanced at her and gave a quick nod of agreement. "We've set up camp lower down, near the foot of the slope. We should be there in about an hour if we're careful."

The meaning hit Xu Moyao at once: the last camp had come under attack.

With no time to waste, on the way back. Xu Moyao insisted on walking beside Li Wuxin, refusing to let him.

The descent was slow, the ground uneven, filled with twisted roots and loose rocks. The air was cooler now, the sun dipping lower in the sky and painting everything in soft amber hues. Despite the perilous terrain, there was an almost surreal calm that settled over them, as though the earth itself respected the fragility of the man they carried. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying a quiet, almost reverent softness.

By the time they arrived at the camp, the Silent Sky Blades had already prepared everything. The soldiers were efficient, well-trained, and had already set up a tent for the wounded. As they laid Li Wuxin down inside, Lu Xioquian worked quickly, moving with practiced ease to continue the care, checking his vitals. She was calm, but there was an edge to her movements that reflected her concern.

Xu Moyao remained at his side, refusing to leave again. Even when Jiang Ligxian offered to relieve him, to take a watch, Xu Moyao shook his head, his resolve unwavering.

"I'll stay," Xu Moyao said softly, his voice filled with an unspoken promise.

Some time passed, Lu Xioquian had moved to the warmth of the fire where a pot of soup was simmering. The crackling flames cast long shadows, but there was a quiet peace in the way she watched them dance. Lan Boxiao joined her a few moments later, her face still serious, but there was a small flicker of something else in her eyes, a kind of weariness that had been building for days.

"I stabilized him,"Lu Xioquian said softly, her voice almost lost in the crackling fire. "He'll be fine."

Lu Xioquian remembers back to their early days, the first time Wuxin had chosen her to be his disciple. It had been a turning point, one that had changed everything for her.

As she watched Lan Boxiao,  there was something in her expression, something different.

"Thank you, Lan Boxiao" she finally said, her voice quiet. " Thank you for not letting go when I had nothing left to hold on to." She turned to her, cupped her face gently in her hands, and kissed her.

 "I love you too," Lan Boxiao, a little embarrassed.

A silence fell between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. And then, almost inaudible,Lan Boxiao added: 

"You know... when I joined the unit, it wasn't just to learn to fight. It was to stay close to you."

Lu Xioquian froze surprised by the words. For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away, the crackling of the fire, the sound of the wind through the trees, and there was only the quiet intensity of their gaze. Lu Xioquian flushed deep red, and she nervously played with a lock of hair, unsure of what to say next.

"You were the only person I knew who could scare a captain, and still smile at the same time,"  her voice barely above a whisper. "I admired you, Lan Boxiao"

 Lan Boxiao didn't know how to respond. The words rose in her chest but caught in her throat, heavy. For a long moment, she simply watched Lu Xioquian, her gaze tracing the lines of her face, the subtle tension in her shoulders, the quiet vulnerability in her eyes. She could feel it, the pull, that invisible thread between them, always there, always unspoken.

So instead of speaking, Lan Boxiao reached out. Her hand moved on instinct, slow but certain. Lu Xioquian looked down, a flicker of uncertainty passing through her, but only for a second. Then, gently, she took Lan Boxiaos hand in hers, fingers closing around it with a kind of quiet reverence.

"I'm glad you here, Lan Boxiao" Lu Xioquian said, her voice barely above a whisper, but full, so full of things left unsaid. There was warmth in it. And something else. Something like pure love.

Inside the tent, the air was still. Li Wuxin stirred beneath the blankets, his body shifting faintly, the shallow rhythm of his breath steady but fragile. Xu Moyao hadn't moved in hours. He remained by his side, knees drawn in, one hand resting lightly on Li Wuxin's arm, as if afraid that letting go would break something.

Then, a faint tremor ran through Li Wuxin's eyelids. Xu Moyao leaned in instantly, breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding loud enough,  he wondered if Wuxin could hear it.

"Li Wuxin?" he whispered, voice tight with emotion, soft but urgent, as though willing the name itself to anchor the other man back to consciousness.

Slowly, Li Wuxin's eyes opened, clouded and dazed, like someone waking from a long and restless dream. He blinked, once, twice, struggling to focus. The inside of the tent came into view, the flickering shadows, the warmth, the gentle rustle of wind outside.

And then he saw him.

Xu Moyao. So close

Li Wuxin's gaze softened, and a faint, exhausted smile curved his lips as he murmured:

"You stayed."

Xu Moyao 's throat tightened. He nodded, barely trusting his voice. "Of course I did."

A silence followed, not heavy, not hollow, but gentle. Xu Moyao reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against Wuxin's forehead, sweeping aside a strand of damp hair.

"You're safe now," he said quietly. 

Li wuxin's eyes fluttered closed again, his body relaxing inch by inch into the warmth around him. That same smile lingered on his lips as he murmured:

"Then I can sleep... You'll keep watch, won't you?"

Xu Moyao let out a breath, barely a sound, and answered with a promise wrapped in a whisper:

"I promise you”

A soft exhale escaped his lips, sleep had taken him again, fragile but deep. Xu Moyao didn’t move, barely daring to breathe, as if any sudden shift might disturb the peace.

The tent’s entrance rustled.

A sharp gust of cold air followed the sound of boots crunching against the packed earth. Commander Jiang Ligxian stepped inside, tall and grave, his expression unreadable in the dim lamplight.

He stood for a moment, observing the scene, Li Wuxin asleep, Xu Moyao unmoving at his side, before kneeling slowly on the other side of the cot.

"He won't get the rest he needs here," he said softly, almost as though apologizing. "He should sleep in a real bed, with clean sheets."

Jiang Ligxian seemed uncertain, his gaze lingering. "He's finally resting..." he said softly.

"I know. I'll carry him carefully. He won't feel a thing." Said Xu Moyao.

Xu Moyao extended his arms with unexpected gentleness. His hands slid beneath Li Wuxin's back, every motion deliberate, as though he were lifting something sacred.

Li Wuxin let out a small sigh but did not stir. His head came to rest against Xu Moyao's chest, his breathing syncing, unconsciously, to the calm strength that held him.

For a moment, silence reigned.

Jiang Ligxian stood just inside the entrance of the tent, watching them. There was no trace of judgment in his eyes—only something quieter, more reflective.

"You know," he said after a pause, almost hesitant, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

Xu Moyao glanced at him, but said nothing.

Without another word, he stepped out into the night, carrying Li Wuxin in his arms.

Xu Moyao's quarters had been set up in the southern wing of the camp. A lantern already burned inside, casting a warm, golden light over the room. The bed was simple but broad, covered with thick woolen blankets and soft cushions.

Xu Moyao knelt once more and lowered Li Wuxin onto the mattress with careful slowness. One hand remained on Li Wuxin's waist a moment longer than necessary.

He sat at the edge of the bed, his hand instinctively finding Li Wuxin's again, lacing their fingers together.

Inside the room, only the quiet crackle of the lantern remained, and the steadier sound of Li Wuxin's breathing.

"You don't know how long I've waited to hold your hand like this." 

Xu Moyao held Li Wuxin's hand in his. For a long moment, he just sat there, watching the subtle rise and fall of Li Wuxin's chest, the peaceful weight of sleep settling over features that had known too much tension.

Then, slowly, Xu Moyao bowed his head.

He brought their joined hands to his lips, brushing them with a breath more than a kiss, and let his forehead come to rest against the back of Li Wuxin's hand. His eyes closed. His voice was low, shaped more by feeling than by sound.

"Sleep now... I'll be here when you wake up."