Ma Jingguo opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. Instead of the rough-hewn wooden beams of his home in the valley, he saw elegant, white-painted rafters and the faint scent of mountain incense.
He bolted upright, sitting on the edge of the bed as a wave of nausea rolled through him. His mind raced, pulling at the frayed edges of his memory—the white mist, the stifling heat, the desperate sting of the dagger against his arm.
This wasn't his room. The furniture was too fine, the air too thin and cold. This was the Tianshan Sect.
"Xiao shushu?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and cracking.
He looked around the guest room, his heart hammering against his ribs. The last thing he remembered was the wall sliding down and a sea of shocked faces staring at him. He remembered the crushing weight of shame, even through the haze of the poison. But most of all, he remembered the absence of the one person he needed to see.
"Where is he?" he muttered, gripping the edge of the silk duvet until his knuckles turned white.
The silence of the room was his only answer. Panic, sharper and more painful than the Yueguang Sect's poison, began to take hold. Had Mu Dishi seen him? Had he believed the lie the poison had written on his body?
Ma Jingguo ignored the weakness in his limbs and swung his feet to the floor, determined to find the man who was both his master and his world, unaware that the world outside this room had already changed.
As Ma Jingguo pondered his surroundings, a sharp, stinging pain shot through his left arm. He reflexively lifted his sleeve, finding the shallow cut from his dagger neatly cleaned and bound in white linen. The memory of the blade's bite—the only thing that had kept him sane in that room—made his stomach churn.
A crisp series of four knocks echoed against the door.
"Come in," he called out, his voice sounding thin even to his own ears.
A female disciple from the Jinfeng Sect entered, her expression stiff. "Da shixiong, Shifu is asking for you."
"I'll follow you as soon as I find my Xiao shushu," Ma Jingguo replied, his eyes searching the room for any sign of Mu Dishi's belongings.
"Shifu insisted you come immediately," she said, her voice devoid of its usual warmth.
"Shimei, why would Shifu want to see me so urgently?"
"You'll know once you get there," she replied shortly, turning to lead the way.
Ma Jingguo followed her through the winding corridors of the Tianshan Sect to a small, heavy-doored meeting room. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating. Kuo Jingsong, Kuo Ju, and Wenqian sat at the head of the table, flanked by Fu Yuanjun and the ten grim-faced Elders of Tianshan.
Ma Jingguo took a seat opposite his masters. "Shifu. Shimu," he greeted them, bowing his head. He then turned to the others. "Qianbei."
"Ah Chen," Kuo Jingsong began, his voice heavy with a disappointment that hurt more than a blow. "Let me ask you something. Has the Jinfeng Sect ever mistreated you?"
"No," Ma Jingguo replied truthfully. "Everyone has treated me with nothing but kindness."
"Last time, you vanished and we were forced to cancel the wedding," Kuo Ju snapped, slamming her hand onto the table as she stood. Her face was flushed with fury. "When Chang'er came home, she told us she no longer wished to marry you, so we let it go. But today? Inside that hole? Everyone saw what you did!"
Ma Jingguo's brow furrowed. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"How dare you!" Kuo Ju retorted. "You were on top of Chang'er, kissing her! Every person in that room witnessed your behavior. You have ruined her reputation beyond repair. No matter what excuse you have, you must marry her!"
"Shimu, I was not kissing Shijie!" Ma Jingguo protested, his voice rising in desperation. "She had stopped breathing! I was trying to save her life by blowing air into her lungs!"
"Your lips were on hers," Kuo Ju shot back, her eyes narrowing.
"The act was medical, not romantic!" Ma Jingguo insisted, looking around the room for a single ally. "If you don't believe me, ask Mu Dishi. When he came to help, the first thing I told him was that Shijie wasn't breathing."
"Madam Kuo, I can vouch for that part of his story," Fu Yuanjun interjected, though his expression was somber. "But Ma gongzi... I was the one who helped you up. You had fallen unconscious and mistaken me for Mu Da-ge."
Ma Jingguo's heart plummeted. The room seemed to grow colder. "Then... where is he?"
"He left shortly after curing the poison in both of you," Fu Yuanjun replied.
Ma Jingguo's face went deathly pale. "He... he left?"
"We asked him what kind of poison you had inhaled, but he refused to answer," Fu Yuanjun explained. "He simply mixed a medicinal broth, told us to boil it for you, and departed without another word."
Ma Jingguo stared down at the grain of the table, his heart aching. Mu Dishi had seen the scene. He had seen the "kiss," and he had walked away. Tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them back, his voice trembling with a mix of grief and defiance.
"It was a stimulant mist," Ma Jingguo said quietly. "Before it entered the room, Shijie and I were talking normally. Then we were drugged. We woke up burning with fever; it was all we could do to keep our clothes on." He looked directly at Kuo Ju, his gaze hardening. "Shimu, I have done nothing wrong. I am innocent, and I will not accept this accusation."
He stood up, the chair scraping harshly against the floor.
"Where do you think you're going?" Kuo Ju demanded.
"To find my Xiao shushu," Ma Jingguo replied.
"If you walk out that door, you will be expelled from the Jinfeng Sect!" Kuo Ju threatened, her voice echoing off the stone walls.
Ma Jingguo stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder. The fear of being sectless was nothing compared to the fear of Mu Dishi's silence. "I don't care. When Shijie wakes up, you can confirm my story with her. Until then, I am leaving."
He turned and walked out, leaving a stunned silence behind him.
"Let us wait for Miss Kuo to regain consciousness," Elder Tong suggested, breaking the tension.
"In all the time I've known Ma gongzi," Fu Yuanjun added softly, "he has never been a man who would take advantage of a woman."
Kuo Jingsong sighed, placing a hand on his wife's arm. "Ju'er, let's just wait for Chang'er to wake up."
Ma Jingguo sprinted down the mountain path, his lungs burning and his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Every step southernly was a prayer. He burst through the front door of their small house, the silence within hitting him like a physical blow.
He tore through the rooms—first their shared bedroom, then the guest room, then back through the entire house again. Nothing. No white robes, no scent of medicinal herbs, no cold, steady presence. The house was a hollow shell.
He stumbled back into their bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. He grabbed Mu Dishi's pillow, pressing his face into the fabric and inhaling deeply. He could still smell him—a faint, lingering trace of sandalwood and mountain air. He curled into a fetal position, clutching the pillow as if it were a liferaft. He didn't know when the sobbing started, but soon the silk was soaked through with his tears.
His mind was a carousel of torture. Mu Dishi had seen him with Changchang. He had seen the "kiss" and, like everyone else, he had assumed the worst.
Since he was ten years old, Ma Jingguo had been the one chasing. He had given his whole heart, but in this moment of darkness, he wondered if Mu Dishi had ever truly reached back. Everyone who had ever loved him had vanished. Why should Mu Dishi be any different? He realized with a hollow ache that even if he found him, he knew exactly what Mu Dishi would say: "Go back. Marry her. It is your responsibility."
Exhausted and broken, Ma Jingguo felt his will to live evaporating. He lay there, staring at the wall, deciding that if Mu Dishi was gone for good, he would simply let the silence take him.
"Xiao shushu... I'm so tired," he whispered into the empty room before drifting into a heavy, grief-stricken sleep.
He woke late in the evening to the lonely chirping of crickets. The house was freezing. Then, a loud, jarring clatter echoed from the kitchen—the sound of ceramic shattering on stone.
A thief, Ma Jingguo thought dully. He didn't move. He didn't care. If someone wanted to kill him, they would be doing him a favor. He heard heavy, impatient pacing. A hungry thief, he noted as another crash—this time a metal pot—rang out.
The noise was ruining his final thoughts of Mu Dishi. Irritation flickered through his lethargy. He dragged himself to the window, shoved it open, and screamed into the night, "You thief! What the hell! Can't you rob me quietly? If I hear one more sound, I'll come out there and kick you myself!"
He slammed the window shut. As he turned back toward the bed, a soft, familiar mumble drifted through the wall—an apology so faint he almost missed it.
Ma Jingguo froze. His heart didn't just beat; it leaped. He sprinted out of the room, his bare feet slapping against the floorboards as he flew toward the kitchen.
Through the doorway, he saw a slender back hunched over the stove. He rubbed his eyes until they burned, convinced it was a ghost. He pinched his arm four times until he drew blood. The figure remained.
"Xiao shushu?" his voice was a broken thread.
Mu Dishi turned slightly, glancing at him with an unreadable expression before returning his attention to the wok. "We can eat in a bit," he said calmly.
The floodgates broke. Tears streamed down Ma Jingguo's face again, but this time they were hot and frantic. He crossed the kitchen in two strides and threw his arms around Mu Dishi's waist, burying his face in the white silk of his back.
"Let go. I'm still cooking," Mu Dishi said, his voice regaining its usual icy edge.
Ma Jingguo only held on tighter. "Xiao shushu... where were you? I've been waiting all day... I thought you left me."
Mu Dishi struggled slightly in his grip. "Let go. Wash your hands and sit down."
Ma Jingguo obeyed, his hands trembling as he rinsed them. Mu Dishi set two plates on the table—simple food, slightly charred—and sat across from him.
"Where did you go?" Ma Jingguo asked, unable to stop staring, making sure he was real.
"I went back to the Yueguang branch," Mu Dishi replied between bites. "But they had already fled. They left nothing behind."
"What were you looking for?"
"Their traps," Mu Dishi said, his eyes distant. "They felt... familiar." He looked down, his gaze landing on Ma Jingguo's feet. "Wash your feet before you go back to bed."
Ma Jingguo looked down. He was barefoot, his toes red from the cold floor. He hadn't felt the chill until that very second. He looked back up at Mu Dishi and smiled through his tears. He was home.
After the sparse, charred meal, the two men lay together in the quiet sanctuary of their bed. The house was still, the only sound the distant, rhythmic song of the mountain crickets. Ma Jingguo held Mu Dishi tightly from behind, his arms a protective circle as he pressed a lingering kiss to the back of Mu Dishi's head.
"Xiao shushu," he whispered, his voice thick with the remnants of his earlier grief. "When Fu Yuanjun told me you had left... I thought the world had ended. I thought you had abandoned me for good."
He shifted, gently turning Mu Dishi to face him. He leaned in, kissing his forehead with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. "You have to believe me. Nothing happened between Changchang Shijie and me. The poison... it was a nightmare. She stopped breathing, and I panicked. I remembered what you taught me—that if a person is unresponsive, we must give them air through their mouth. It was medicine, Xiao shushu. Only medicine."
"Forget it," Mu Dishi said. His voice was quiet, lacking its usual sharp edge.
"I am innocent," Ma Jingguo insisted, his heart racing as he searched Mu Dishi's eyes in the moonlight. "I could never do anything to hurt you. I won't do anything that risks losing you." He kissed him again, more fervently this time. "The only person I want to touch... the only person I want to be with... is you. Do you truly believe me?"
"Mmm-," Mu Dishi murmured, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly.
Ma Jingguo paused, his brow furrowed with lingering doubt. "Really? You aren't just saying that to quiet me?"
"I saw the knife cuts on your left arm," Mu Dishi replied.
The weight of those words hung in the air. Mu Dishi hadn't just looked at the "scandal"; he had looked at the man. He had seen the blood-soaked sleeve and recognized the desperate price Ma Jingguo had paid to remain faithful.
"It couldn't be helped," Ma Jingguo admitted softly, his thumb tracing the line of Mu Dishi's jaw. "The pain was the only thing stronger than the poison. It allowed me to focus on the sting of the steel instead of the longing in my blood."
"I know," Mu Dishi whispered.
The admission broke the last of the barriers between them. Ma Jingguo leaned down, his lips meeting Mu Dishi's in a kiss that was no longer desperate, but deep and hungry. "Xiao shushu," he murmured against his lips, "right now, the only thing I want to concentrate on is my desire for you."
His tongue sought entrance, a bold claim of affection that Mu Dishi finally met with his own. As Ma Jingguo's hand traveled lower, tracing the firm lines of Mu Dishi's body toward the heat beneath his robes, he let out a jagged, heated breath. "How I wish the person in that room... the one I was fighting to reach... had been you."