Chapter 146:

“Sir, he’s been so busy lately…”

Night descended quietly, the evening breeze carrying a soft, whispered melody that traveled through every corner of the room before slipping out through the window.

Outside, the full moon shone brilliantly, eclipsing the stars with its radiance, leaving only the moon to dominate the sky. In the silent night, its grandeur seemed closer and larger than ever.

After draping a coat over Xu Xi, Wu Yingxue stood beside him, her gaze fixed on his face. Her eyes blinked slowly as she took in every detail of his figure, her thoughts drifting to the past six months.

After uncovering the truth about the Thirteen States of Daqian, Xu Xi chose not to reveal it publicly.

Firstly, doing so would only incite panic, achieving nothing but chaos. Secondly, it might alert the demons in the Hundred Thousand Mountains, jeopardizing the breakout plan before it even began.

So, for the past six months, Xu Xi confided only in A Niu and a few other trusted individuals about the demons’ true nature.

For everyone else, he influenced them subtly, gradually preparing them to accept the harsh reality when the time was right for full disclosure.

Silently and invisibly, Xu Xi was orchestrating a monumental plan—laying the groundwork for a future escape from the Hundred Thousand Mountains. It was an enormous, grueling effort.

Wu Yingxue helped where she could, but she often felt her contributions were insufficient.

For most tasks, she relied on Xu Xi’s guidance to execute them effectively.

“If I could become stronger, sir, could he finally rest?” Wu Yingxue murmured, her tone tinged with melancholy.

The dissatisfaction with her perceived inadequacy pushed her forward. Determined, she sat at the desk opposite Xu Xi, picked up a document titled “People’s Livelihood Farming,” and began working on it.

“Let’s see… first this, then that.”

She read through it carefully, marking notes and corrections, her hand occasionally pausing as she pressed her chin in thought.

The hours slipped by unnoticed. When the girl finally lifted her head, she realized she’d been at it far longer than she expected.

The feeling was subtle—like water trickling past her fingertips, pooling quietly before she noticed its presence.

“Is this what it’s like for sir every day? It’s not boring at all,” she murmured to herself.

Setting the pen down, Wu Yingxue rubbed her cheeks with both hands before giving them a firm slap, trying to shake off her sleepiness.

“Come on, Yingxue! Sir works so hard—how can you slack off?”

With renewed determination, she stretched, twisted her shoulders, and picked up the pen again. Her serious expression as she wrote gave her the appearance of a diligent heroine, immersed in her task.

The candlelight flickered, its shadow dancing across Xu Xi’s face. Wu Yingxue paused to look at the scene, her thoughts wandering.

She thought of the Hundred Thousand Mountains, Qingniu Town, and the countless moments that had brought her to this point.

From childhood, Wu Yingxue always believed she was special.

She thought herself stronger and more capable than most girls—even boys. She worked hard and was talented.

Though she never spoke of it, the young princess secretly harbored dreams of becoming a “hero who saves the world.”

She imagined herself revered by the people, celebrated and praised.

But those dreams shattered years ago when she became a fugitive wanted by Daqian instead of the savior she envisioned.

The rapid shift in her circumstances was too much to process.

Even now, recalling it made her chest tighten, her breath catch, as though an invisible hand gripped her throat.

“…” Wu Yingxue stopped writing, her fingers idly tracing the pen’s barrel as her thoughts drifted further.

The collapse of her dreams and the cruel weight of reality had shaken her deeply.

She wasn’t inherently tough—she couldn’t ignore setbacks.

Despite her strong façade, Wu Yingxue was no different from anyone else. She’d simply grown up in privilege, her illusions of heroism nurtured by the advantages of her princely lineage.

But stripped of that identity and its accompanying halo, she realized that she, Wu Yingxue, was just another person—mortal and fragile.

This was one of the first lessons Xu Xi had taught her.

“If it weren’t for sir, I probably wouldn’t be alive now.”

The girl wasn’t naturally skilled in governance or strategy. It was only after meeting Xu Xi that she learned how to navigate these challenges, albeit clumsily.

Her mind, not particularly quick, was filled with memories of Xu Xi.

The two of them walking under the stars.

Exchanging New Year’s wishes.

Folding paper flowers together.

Individually, these moments weren’t extraordinary.

But woven together, they formed an invisible road—a path the two walked side by side, moving forward through time.

“What exactly is my relationship with sir?”

Sitting alone in the dimly lit room, she glanced at Xu Xi’s weary face, her brow furrowing in thought.

Was it a relationship of student and teacher?

No, it didn’t feel that way. Their dynamic lacked the formal distance typical of such bonds.

Then, was it a romantic relationship?

That didn’t seem right either. The way couples interacted was far different from her and Xu Xi.

As Wu Yingxue pondered, she suddenly recalled a term Xu Xi had once mentioned: [Fellow Taoist].

Friends with shared goals, companions traveling the same path, supporting one another as they moved forward.

The phrase resonated with her.

“I remember sir said Taoist friends can also be called Taoist companions. It’s an interesting term…”

She chuckled softly, glancing at Xu Xi’s sleeping form.

Her mind wandered to the word “companion,” noting how its characters could be broken into two “moons”.

This brought to mind the tale of the moon in the sky and the moon in the water.

“I feel like sir is the moon in the sky,” she mused.

“And I’m the moon in the water, reflecting his light…”

The moon in the sky shone warm and bright.

The moon in the water, dim and hidden, mirrored the light above.

Together, the two moons reflected one another, blending their radiance.

The girl grasped the fabric over her chest, feeling the unease and uncertainty of the future pressing down on her. Her fingers tightened as she whispered softly to herself:

“You must live, sir.”