While Li Wei and Leng Yue conversed quietly within their own space far from here, unaware of all that moved against them, another convoy made its way toward Crescent Moon City along a road little known to common folk. This particular route threaded through the western recesses of Qianlong Province, bypassing the eyes and ears of the usual merchants and travelers. Its secrecy was deliberate, chosen for those who bore the weight of matters too sensitive to be revealed under open skies.
On that secluded road, a solitary carriage glided forward, drawn by two sturdy bay horses whose steady trot shook loose small showers of dew from the leaves overhead. The creak of the harnesses and the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves echoed in harmony with the gentle rumble of wheels over well-packed earth. At first glance, it was a simple journey through mountain terrain, yet the carriage itself betrayed an aura far from ordinary.
Crafted from polished sepia wood that gleamed like lacquer, the carriage bore carvings of clouds, cranes, and winding dragons etched deep into its panels. Its frame was painted in a deep burgundy, a color that hinted at stately dignity, while gilded trimmings caught slivers of sunlight that slipped through the canopy above. To those rare few who might stumble across its path, the vehicle seemed a strange bird perched among wild branches—too resplendent, too noble for so humble a mountain road.
Within, the contrast to the rugged landscape outside was even more striking. Plush velvet cushions lined the interior, their royal blue surface stitched with golden embroidery that shimmered faintly when touched by rays piercing the silken drapes. The windows were veiled with delicate cloth of pale ivory, embroidered with winding motifs that seemed almost alive when stirred by passing breezes. Everything was arranged to grant comfort, secrecy, and dignity to those who rode within.
Yet, despite the opulence, the air inside was heavy—so heavy that even the fragrance of sandalwood incense burning faintly in a bronze holder could not mask it.
Bing Cao, adviser of Blue Carp County, sat with his broad shoulders leaned against the velvet backrest. His gaze was fixed outward, past the fluttering drapes, to the blur of pine trees and moss-coated cliffs rolling by. Since they had departed from Ba Zi's residence, he had spoken no word, his lips sealed and expression set in lines that suggested both exhaustion and turmoil.
Opposite him sat Mo Li, his young assistant. A jade cup of tea rested in her delicate hands, the steam curling upward to touch her cheek. Her eyes, wide and bright as autumn chestnuts, never strayed far from Bing Cao. Silence pressed between them like a wall, broken only by the faint slosh of tea when the wheels met a rut and the drawn-out groan of carriage wood.
"Hyah!" The driver's command rang out, and the horses picked up their stride. Clip-clop, clip-clop~
At length, Mo Li broke the stillness. Her voice, though respectful, carried a firmness that revealed her frustration.
"So, you will not tell me what happened? I do not seek every word, Master Cao. Only some hint, some shred to ease the shadow in your brow."
Bing Cao's jaw tightened. He did not turn his head. Only after a long silence did he answer, his voice flat.
"I shall not say anything, Mo Li. Disturb me no further."
The young woman's lips pressed into a thin line. Her fingers curled around the teacup until her knuckles whitened. Yet her gaze lingered stubbornly upon him. Why will he not share? Are his troubles so dire that even I, his most trusted, must be kept blind?
She recalled how, before their visit to Ba Zi's estate, Bing Cao had been composed—perhaps stern at times, but never so silent, never so cloaked. That visit had stripped something from him, leaving behind this brooding shell.
She set the teacup aside upon the small lacquered table between them. "Master Cao," she said, her voice low, "you shoulder a burden that bends your spirit. Even though I am younger and less learned, I am still capable of being leaned upon. Why carry it alone? The proverb says: 'A lone tree breaks in the storm, yet a grove endures.'"
Her earnest eyes sought his, but Bing Cao gave her only a fleeting glance before turning again to the window. Inwardly, he sighed. This child… too pure, too untested. If she knew of the vile extortions the Protector wields against us, her spirit would falter. Better she remain in innocence for now.
He shifted, his broad hands folding atop one another. "Mo Li," he said slowly, his tone taking the weight of command, "I will say this once more: as my subordinate, when I declare I wish no disturbance, you shall obey it."
His words struck her like a lash. Mo Li's eyes widened, her breath catching. A flicker of hurt crossed her face—disappointment mingled with surprise. She had expected at least a crumb of trust, a small crack through which she might prove her worth. Instead, the cold wall had risen higher.
Seeing the tremor in her expression, Bing Cao's sternness faltered. Regret softened his features. He extended a hand, calloused from years of writing scrolls and wielding brushes, and gently covered hers. "Mo Li," he said, his voice quieter now, "I do not dismiss you out of disdain. You are precious to me, as a friend and as one I guide. But the matter upon my mind is not fit to share—not yet. The weight is mine to carry, lest it crush those unready."
Her lashes lowered. She withdrew her hand slowly, fingers slipping from his. Though disappointment still shadowed her face, she bowed her head slightly. "I understand, Master Cao. I will not press further. Yet, remember—when the day comes that the burden grows too heavy, I am here. Even the strongest boulder rests upon the earth. Let me be that earth."
His lips curved faintly at her words, though sorrow dulled the gesture. He turned back to the window, his eyes reflecting the streaks of light that pierced the canopy. Outside, the mountains stood ancient and unyielding, a fitting mirror for the trial that knotted his heart.
She is but a young girl, he thought bitterly. Still eager to learn, still unshaped by the cruelty of power. Were I not her guide, perhaps I would tell her everything. But to do so would be to rob her of her innocence, to make her question all teachings, all authority. No, better she hate me a little than lose her light.
Mo Li folded her hands in her lap, her face calm now though her thoughts whirled like autumn leaves. Master Cao shelters me from storms I have yet to feel. But how long can I remain a mere novice? To walk beside him as an equal, I must grow, and swiftly. Until then, I will endure.
The carriage pressed on. Creak… creak~ The wheels turned, carrying them further along the secluded mountain road. Outside, wildflowers bowed beneath the weight of morning mist, and ancient pines stretched their limbs like guardians keeping the secrets of passersby.
Both passengers sat in silence, each locked in their own contemplations. For Bing Cao, despair gnawed like a hidden worm—his loyalty to Blue Carp County was shackled by Ba Zi's unyielding grip, and the choices before him all led toward ruin. For Mo Li, the sting of rejection mingled with determination, her youthful heart swelling with the desire to one day be more than a protected assistant.
Inside that ornate carriage, surrounded by velvet and silk yet weighed by burdens unseen, master and disciple prepared themselves quietly for trials yet to unfold. Though their words were few, their bond, fragile yet enduring, would be tested on the road ahead.
The horses neighed, tossing their manes as if to shake free the tension that even beasts could sense. The driver urged them on, and the sound of hooves echoed once more against the cliff walls. Clip-clop, clip-clop~
And so, through winding roads veiled by secrecy, Bing Cao and Mo Li were carried toward Crescent Moon City—toward a destiny neither yet dared name aloud.