Deep in the dense, ancient forest, it was easy to lose one’s way.
Chu'he held Ninth’s hand as they followed the guiding firefly deeper into the woods. The early morning sunlight could not penetrate the thick canopy, and the further they ventured, the colder it grew.
Fang Songhe walked beside them, his guard never wavering.
Suddenly, Fang Songhe turned sharply toward a rustling sound. "Who’s there?"
Before long, a figure emerged—Song Tingxue.
Fang Songhe acknowledged him, "Mr. Song."
Song Tingxue wasted no time. "Are you all here to search for Zhao Rongyue as well? Do you have any leads?"
His face was pale, his expression frantic, as though his very life depended on Zhao Rongyue’s safety.
Chu'he frowned slightly, sensing something odd.
Fang Songhe replied, "We’re also tracking Miss Zhao’s whereabouts. Ninth’s insects can trace scents, so we might find a clue."
Song Tingxue’s eyes lit up with hope. "Please, Ninth, if you can bring Rongyue back, I’ll do anything—even serve you like a beast of burden."
Ninth, however, seemed indifferent. "Boring."
He tightened his grip on Chu'he’s hand and led her past Song Tingxue, continuing forward.
Song Tingxue, who had been wandering blindly through the woods for so long, saw this as his only chance and hurried after them.
He wanted to urge Ninth to move faster but feared angering him, so he forced himself to suppress his impatience, his anxiety burning like fire as he followed.
Curious, Chu'he asked, "Mr. Song, this forest is vast. We’re only able to navigate because of Ninth’s insects. Weren’t you afraid of getting lost alone?"
Song Tingxue answered without hesitation, "I came here as a child. Besides, when the family guards said Rongyue had been taken into these mountains by kidnappers, I didn’t have time to think about anything else."
Fang Songhe inquired, "You’ve been here before?"
Song Tingxue nodded. "In fact, if not for an accident in my childhood, I might never have met Rongyue."
From his lips, a story from the past unfolded.
Back then, six-year-old Song Tingxue had been nothing more than an innocent, gullible child. A stick of candied hawthorn from a stranger was all it took to lure him away from his parents.
Two men dragged him into these very mountains and locked him inside a cave. For seven long days, he trembled in fear.
On the eighth day, two little girls were thrown into the cave with him.
"Be careful with them—they’re the daughters of the Zhao Family, the wealthiest in the city. Their ransom will set us up for life!"
One of the kidnappers laughed. "We got lucky. We only planned to kidnap the Zhao Family’s second daughter, but the eldest walked right into our hands."
"After this job, we’ll never have to work again!"
The kidnappers left, drinking and feasting outside the cave as if they could already see their golden fortune turning into stacks of silver notes.
Young Song Tingxue, filthy and terrified after seven days in captivity, shrank into himself. His family wasn’t rich—they could never pay such a ransom.
"Don’t be afraid."
A girl’s voice, light and ethereal, echoed softly in the damp air.
The boy lifted his tear-streaked face from the corner, his blurred vision catching sight of a girl with two braids.
She looked about eight or nine, her white winter dress smudged with dirt. In her arms was another girl, slightly younger, curled up in fear, only her wide, glistening eyes visible.
Though the younger girl seemed timid, having someone to shield her made her the luckiest person in that dark prison.
"I left secret clues behind. Someone will come for us soon," the older girl said with a reassuring smile. "We’ll get out of here."
The boy, who had been alone all this time, felt his frantic heart settle at her words.
He stared blankly at the younger girl nestled in her arms, envy flickering in his eyes.
"Come here." The girl stretched out her hand.
He had been curled up in the corner for so long that his clothes were soaked through, sapping his strength. Yet, seeing her outstretched hand, he found the courage to move.
The boy crawled forward, inch by inch, until his grimy fingers finally clutched the hem of her white dress.
But then, the younger girl in her arms suddenly pushed him away. "This is my sister! Don’t touch her!" she declared in a clear, childish voice.
He fell back, stunned.
"Shuxing, behave."
The younger girl pouted, puffing her cheeks, but her glare remained fixed on the boy.
Then, warmth enveloped his hand—the older girl had taken it in hers, sharing her strength, helping him sit up.
"Don’t be scared. I’m older than you, so I’ll protect you."
With just that one sentence, the world no longer seemed so terrifying.
"What happened next?" Chu'he asked eagerly, drawn into the tale.
Song Tingxue’s expression softened at the memory. "Later, I fell ill with fever, and some memories blurred. When I woke, I was already back home."
He later learned more.
The two girls were the Zhao Family’s young misses. They, too, had been rescued, though the younger sister had been injured during the escape and, like him, needed time to recover.
Though Song Tingxue came from a scholarly family, he developed an almost rogue-like habit—every day after school, he would climb the Zhao Family’s wall, peering inside in hopes of catching a glimpse of a certain someone.
Most days, he saw nothing.
But on the day when winter’s ice melted and willow branches sprouted new leaves, his persistence was rewarded.
The girl noticed him but didn’t call the servants to chase him away. Instead, she looked up curiously.
Blushing, the boy blurted out, "I know your name is Zhao Rongyue. You’re two years older than me, and you’re not betrothed. I’ll work hard to become strong—so I can protect you. Wait for me to grow up. I’ll marry you someday."
The girl paused, then laughed. "The future is too far away to say for sure."
Chu'he remarked, "So you two were childhood sweethearts, in a way. You’ve loved Miss Zhao for many years."
Song Tingxue closed his eyes. "Rongyue is my life’s greatest wish. I failed to protect her, letting her fall into danger again. If… if…"
He couldn’t bring himself to voice the worst possibility, but the despair radiating from him made it clear—if Zhao Rongyue came to harm, he would not live on.
Chu'he found his devotion increasingly puzzling. Then, she suddenly sensed a gaze lingering on her. Looking up, she met Ninth’s clear, innocent eyes.
"...What is it?"
"She protected him, so he wants to marry her." The unworldly young man's eyes shimmered with innocent clarity. "You protect me, so I should marry you too."
Song Tingxue and Fang Songhe both turned to look.
Chu'he felt the weight of their gazes and lowered her voice. "Given our current... relationship, marriage doesn’t really matter."
After all, their bond was already one of "intimate closeness."
Ninth bowed his head, a faint confusion lingering in his expression, as if something still didn’t quite sit right with him.
