After three months of absence, Li Wuxin, Xu Moyao, and Lan Boxiao finally returned, once again stepping onto the familiar ground of Moying, their footsteps echoing the trials they had endured.

The wind gently blew through the alleys lined with old buildings, carrying with it the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms blooming beneath the soft glow of evening. The streets of the scholar's district were quiet, immersed in a certain tranquility, far from the noise of the market.

Lan Boxiao walked with a light step, her mind at peace after a long journey. Her arms were laden with rolls of silk, remedies Li Wuxin had asked her to bring. She hummed an old tune, one she had learned when she was still a young disciple under her master's tutelage. It was a melody full of nostalgia and serenity, a distant memory of a simpler time.

Suddenly, her pace slowed as she spotted a familiar figure standing in the dimming light of twilight.

It was Lu Xiaoquian.

She stood there, motionless, her eyes gleaming with an emotion she had clearly been holding back for far too long. Her face was marked by a tension that had been restrained, and before Lan Boxiao could speak, Lu Xiaoquian took a step forward, throwing herself into her arms with such urgency that she almost made her stumble.

"You've come back..." murmured Lu Xiaoquian, her voice breaking with emotion. She held Lan Boxiao tightly as though she feared losing her again. "I... I didn't know if you would ever return."

Lan Boxiao, caught off guard, felt her heart tighten under the intensity of the embrace. Lu Xiaoquian's arms wrapped around her like warm chains, filled with immeasurable affection. For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting herself bask in the warmth of the hug. She buried her face in Lu Xiaoquian's shoulder, breathing in the scent of medicinal herbs and ink. This scent had become so familiar to her, so reassuring.

"I love you. I... I should never have left like that," confessed Lan Boxiao, her voice muffled by shame and guilt. The words escaped like a silent confession she had carried for far too long. She had no other explanation to offer, just the pain that had eaten away at her. "I... I didn't want to leave. But..."

Lu Xiaoquian left the sentence hanging, holding her even tighter.

The two girls barely separated, just enough to look into each other's eyes. Their faces were close, almost too close, their gazes meeting with feelings they had long suppressed. Lu Xiaoquian's eyes were full of tears, but her gaze was firmer than ever. There was no anger or reproach in her eyes, only one question, the one she had been waiting for far too long.

"Tell me?" she asked finally, her voice filled with contained pain. This simple word, this simple question, carried within it a multitude of emotions. Anger, confusion, the pain of abandonment. And also hope. A fragile hope, but one that was very much present. She wanted to understand.

Lan Boxiao lowered her eyes. Guilt gnawed at her from within. She wished she could explain everything that had happened, but the words still eluded her. All she could do was state the truth that had haunted her: "I betrayed your trust. I sent that letter from the South... I had no choice. They were holding my sister hostage. If I didn't give them information about Xu Moyao's movements, they..." Her voice broke again, releasing the pain she had held back for so long. "I had no choice. I couldn't let them destroy her."

A heavy silence settled between them. Lan Boxiao's words hung in the air, like a confession difficult to accept. Lu Xiaoquian watched the young woman before her, trying to understand, trying to accept. She wanted to hear it all, to know everything, but deep down, she knew the truth would never be as simple as she had imagined.

She sighed deeply, a sigh that seemed to release all the accumulated pressure. Then, with an almost imperceptible gesture, she ran her hand through Lan Boxiao's hair, but did not move. The softness of the gesture contrasted with the harshness of the situation, but it expressed something even stronger: acceptance. "Fool," she murmured, a sad smile floating on her lips. It wasn't anger, nor reproach. It was an emotional plea."You should have told us. We would have helped you. You weren't alone."

Lan Boxiao looked at her, surprised by the softness in her words. She had expected an outburst of anger, disappointment, maybe even rejection. But instead, she only saw this tender understanding in Lu Xiaoquian's eyes. Despite the betrayal, Lu Xiaoquian was offering her forgiveness, unconditionally, without expectation.

Lan Boxiao lowered her head, unable to meet Lu Xiaoquian's gaze.

Lu Xiaoquian gently cupped her face in her hands, lifting her gaze to meet hers. There was something firmly tender in the gesture, as if, in this moment, everything that had been broken could be repaired. "It's not for you to decide what you deserve," she said calmly, a new light in her eyes. "You've come back. And that's all that matters."

A long silence settled, a comfortable silence, heavy with everything they had been through together and everything they had not yet said. They stayed there, looking at each other for a long time, a silent yet infinitely strong connection that transcended words. Then, Lan Boxiao whispered, her voice barely audible, almost like a silent prayer:

"I'll do anything to make it up to you. Anything."

Lu Xiaoquian looked at her, and a soft, enigmatic smile stretched across her lips. "Then start by kissing me, you traitor," she said in a light tone, but her eyes sparkled with deep affection, as if, after all this time, love and trust had finally been restored.

Lan Boxiao let out a muffled laugh, a sweet and liberating emotion slipping through her. She bowed slightly, bringing her face closer to Lu Xiaoquian's. Their lips met gently, in a kiss full of tenderness and silent promises. This kiss was more than just a gesture; it sealed their reconciliation, a beginning of healing. It was the confirmation that, despite everything that had happened, their bond was still as strong, ready to be reborn, ready to be rebuilt.

They stayed there, one against the other, their hearts beating in unison.

Meanwhile, in the room they shared since their discreet marriage, Xu Moyao and Li Wuxin slowly packed their things. The room was bathed in the golden light of lanterns, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Xu Moyao, his hands resting on a roll of silk he had just folded, watched Li Wuxin out of the corner of his eye. "My husband," that word still made warmth rise in his chest. Xu Moyao forgot to breathe for a moment. He looked down, a silly smile curling at the corner of his lips, his cheeks flushed.

In a movement full of quiet tenderness, he slowly approached, wrapped his arms around Li Wuxin, and held him against him, his warm breath brushing against his neck.

Li Wuxin flinched slightly under the sudden warmth against his back.

He tilted his head back, his hair brushing Xu Moyao's chest. "You always choose the best moments to surprise me, huh?"

But he didn't make a move to pull away.

"This is our first trip since we got married," Xu Moyao remarked in a low, lingering voice.

Li Wuxin raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? And so?"

"Well, technically..." Xu Moyao brought his lips near Li Wuxin's ear, his voice barely a whisper in the air between them...

"This is our honeymoon."

Li Wuxin, taken aback by his words, fell silent for a moment, his heart beating a little faster.

"You could at least warn me before saying things like that." Li Wuxin slowly turned, his cheeks blushing, and buried his face in Xu Moyao's shoulder, as if to hide.

Xu Moyao smiled, then tilted his head to capture his lips in a slow, burning kiss. It was different from their usual exchanges, more intentional, more possessive, but still as gentle.

They only separated to catch their breath. Xu Moyao let his lips brush Li Wuxin's once more, before gently pulling him back, step by step. With every movement, the contact of their lips grew more insistent, as if each moment were a silent promise.

They didn't stop until Li Wuxin's back hit the wooden door. Xu Moyao's breath brushed lightly against Li Wuxin's skin as he leaned slightly forward, his lips almost touching his.

Their breathing intertwined in a soothing rhythm, like a silent symphony. He smiled, a tender, sincere smile that radiated a calming warmth. Slowly, Xu Moyao placed his hand at the side, gently closing the door with a slight motion. The proximity between them intensified even further.

Li Wuxin, his heart racing, could no longer focus on anything but the heat emanating from Xu Moyao. Their breaths became almost synchronized, moving in a silent, intimate dance. Li Wuxin closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the embrace of the moment.

"Are you sure you want to keep going?" Xu Moyao asked.

Li Wuxin, his cheeks burning, slowly nodded his head.

Xu Moyao lifted Li Wuxin with a single, fluid movement, as if he were as light as a feather. Li Wuxin, taken by surprise, instinctively wrapped his legs around Xu Moyao's waist, his breath short against his husband's shoulder. Their bodies pressed closer, Xu Moyao holding Li Wuxin against him. Li Wuxin placed his hands on his husband's chest, their gazes meeting—one sparkling with desire, the other with tenderness.

"Don't let me go," Li Wuxin whispered, his heart beating faster.

"I can't. I love you too much."

Li Wuxin closed his eyes at that moment, feeling the weight of those words settle upon him. He pressed himself closer to Xu Moyao, his lips seeking his, as if instinctively responding to everything he felt. There was no room for doubt here, no room for uncertainty. Just this shared moment, this passionate embrace, a mute answer to each other's promises.

Xu Moyao smiled, a tender, comforting smile. His hands slowly moved down Li Wuxin's back, holding him even closer, as if to make sure he wouldn't slip away, that he would always be there, right next to him.

Li Wuxin's hands slid along Xu Moyao's back, brushing against the skin of his neck, then slowly moving downward.

Li Wuxin lowered his head gently, burying his nose in the crook of Xu Moyao's neck. He slowly inhaled the soft scent of pine that emanated from his skin, a natural, soothing fragrance that gently tickled his nose. A light shiver ran through his body as he lost himself in that familiar scent, a fragrance he would forever associate with the warmth and security of his husband's arms.

In one smooth motion, Xu Moyao carried Li Wuxin to the bed, holding him against him with the reverence of someone holding their most cherished possession. Once lying on his back, he tenderly placed Li Wuxin on top of him, as if his place had always been there. His hands rested on his back, his gaze locked into his, as if he never wanted to let him go.

Li Wuxin stayed still for a moment, his eyes locked with his husband's. Then, slowly, with infinite tenderness, he raised a hand and gently tucked a lock of hair behind Xu Moyao's ear. The gesture was simple but filled with disarming tenderness.

His heart pounding, Li Wuxin leaned forward gently, his lips brushing against Xu Moyao's, barely a shiver, a promise. Xu Moyao's breath caught for a moment, as if the world had frozen around them.

Sitting on his husband's lower stomach, Li Wuxin slowly slipped his fingers under Xu Moyao's chin, gently lifting his face toward him. The contact was precise, almost possessive, filled with assured tenderness. Their gazes met, a spark lighting the air between them, and without waiting any longer, their lips found each other.

The kiss was direct. Xu Moyao's hands immediately moved up to Li Wuxin's hips, anchoring him against him, refusing to let him slip away. Breathless, the world disappeared around them, leaving only the urgency of their contact, the overwhelming need to fully reunite. Li Wuxin's fingers tightened gently against Xu Moyao's chest, while Xu Moyao held him even tighter.

The kiss left them gasping for air.

In a calm and tender gesture, Xu Moyao removed his own shirt, revealing the line of his muscles. Li Wuxin placed his hand on his chest, fascinated. Then, gently, almost as if asking for permission, he slowly unbuttoned Li Wuxin's garment, his fingers barely brushing his chest. They stayed there, motionless for a moment, gazing at each other in silence, as if this moment alone mattered, suspended outside of time.

Li Wuxin's gaze drifted to Xu Moyao's ribs, where a fine scar slightly marred the skin. A shadow passed over his eyes. With a slow, almost reverent gesture, he gently traced the scar with his fingertip, then bent down to place a kiss as soft as a promise.

Xu Moyao gazed at him, as if mesmerized by his tenderness. Li Wuxin barely lifted his eyes, then leaned forward again, his breath warm against his skin. His lips found his husband's neck, leaving a rain of kisses before lingering just beneath his ear, where the skin was thin and sensitive. A discreet sigh escaped Xu Moyao when Li Wuxin marked his skin with a hickey, as if to say: you're mine, as gently as possible.

A mischievous glint flickered briefly in Xu Moyao's eyes, and before Li Wuxin could react, he was flipped onto his back, one leg gently hooked, trapped by his husband's firm hand.

 Xu Moyao leaned in, slow and deliberate.
His eyes didn't leave Li Wuxin's, not at first — but then, without a word, his gaze dropped, drifting lower. He tilted his head, close enough that his breath stirred the fine hairs at the side of Wuxin’s neck.

For a moment, he didn’t speak.

Then, he inhaled — not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth radiating off skin.

“That scent of patchouli is unfair. How am I supposed to think straight?”

Li Wuxin’s lips quirked, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Their closeness lingered — no breath between them now, just heat and silence heavy with things unspoken.

“Didn’t think you’d notice. Should I wear extra next time—just for you?”

In the silence of their gazes, they finally met, fully, without restraint. It wasn't rushed or brutal, just a slow rise of pleasure, a dance where every sigh, every shiver was shared.

Under the still-warm sheets, Li Wuxin's head rested on Xu Moyao's chest, exactly where his heart beat. Some things would never change, and that was just fine. Xu Moyao's steady breath gently caressed his hair, as his hand moved lazily over his back, drawing slow circles. In this silent embrace, no words were needed. There was only the warmth on the other, the beat of a beloved heart.