Hearing Wu Ye’s request, Ming Qiao turns his head in annoyance. Clutching one of Qing Heng’s fingers, he looks at his young, handsome but somewhat annoying daddy. After a few seconds of deliberation, he decides to give his daddy one last chance.

“Look at Qiao Qiao.”

Wu Ye: “?”

Wu Ye: “I am looking.”

He’s already looked plenty at the little face so similar to Qing Heng’s. Ming Qiao moves his own pretty little face closer, ensuring that Wu Ye gets a good look. He leans in and uses his free chubby hand to point to his face.

“Can’t you see it?”

He’s the child of his daddy and mommy—how could daddy not see even a hint of resemblance in his face?

Wu Ye: “…”

Wu Ye raises a hand and pinches the offered chubby cheek. Soft and squishy—better than cotton. He pinches it once, then lets go, rubbing his fingertips unconsciously.

“What are you trying to show me?” 

Wu Ye asks. “So small, yet already playing guessing games with me.”

Ming Qiao, reluctant to call Wu Ye “daddy” in front of mommy, can’t get his daddy to realize he’s his own child. With no other choice, he lets out a reluctant murmur in his baby voice.

“Uncle…”

This “uncle” comes out unwillingly, yet Wu Ye is perfectly satisfied. “Here, this is for you.”

Wu Ye sees that Qing Heng is about to hand some meat to the child, so he passes over another freshly roasted piece. “There’s plenty of meat, you both can eat until you’re full.”

“I don’t need—”

“I know you’re cultivating and don’t need to eat, but it’s already cooked, so why not try it?”

Wu Ye slices the venison into thin, juicy slices, honey-glazed and aromatic, golden yellow color. Qing Heng, although not particularly fond of food, clearly enjoys this meat. Half the venison remains unroasted, so Wu Ye stores it in his storage bag to save for another time.

After eating and drinking, Ming Qiao starts to feel sleepy, yawning and burying his little face in Qing Heng’s chest, snuggling closer with a soft voice, “Mom, I want to sleep.”

“Alright.” Qing Heng holds his small body, ready to hold him to sleep.

“Carrying him like that must be tiring.”

Wu Ye knows that Qing Heng has been holding the child to sleep these past few days. There’s no bed here, and even though he’s laid clothing on the ground, it’s still a bit cold and unsuitable for long rest. So, Qing Heng holds the child and barely sleeps himself.

“Why don’t you sleep in the cabin?”

Wu Ye suggests: “I’ve added a few things to it. It’ll be better for you and Qiao Qiao than sleeping out here.”

There’s a small cabin here, built by Wu Ye himself. He’d been the first to discover this place. Qing Heng stumbled upon it once by accident, and they ran into each other. Recognizing him, Wu Ye had drawn his sword to challenge him to a duel.

But every time they try to spar, something odd always comes up. Up until now, they haven’t been able to complete a single match.

“The bed and blankets are clean, and Qiao Qiao can stretch his arms and legs comfortably on it.”

That last comment from Wu Ye prompts Qing Heng to get up and carry the little one to the cabin.

“Qing Heng, you’re actually really good with this kid.” Under the moonlight, Wu Ye, walking ahead, makes a seemingly casual remark.

Qing Heng replies calmly: “It’s only natural for me to be good to him.”

“Hmm.”

Wu Ye pauses, then adds: “I never thought you’d be so gentle when you’re good to someone.”

Qing Heng always gives off an air of cool detachment, distant and aloof, as though untouched by the mortal world. When Wu Ye first met him, he felt that this person truly was an Immortal General high above, untouchable by anyone. His title was well-deserved.

One reason Wu Ye likes to spar with him is to see if this calm, unattainable Immortal General would feel frustrated or defeated. Would his usually calm gaze finally show some different emotions?

Now, though, there’s no need to wait for Qing Heng to lose a match to him. Just seeing him with the child, Wu Ye already catches a different side of him. The little chubby cub in his arms seems to have some mysterious power that’s caused Qing Heng to change his usual demeanor.

Qing Heng lifts his gaze and glances at Wu Ye when he’s called gentle. The look in his eyes is anything but gentle.

Catching his gaze, Wu Ye snorts and goes on, “I’ve cooked so many meals for you, yet you won’t even show me a bit of gentleness. Not even a kind look.”

Qing Heng doesn’t bother to hide his annoyance. “You don’t have to cook.”

He and Qiao Qiao wouldn’t starve.

Wu Ye: “…”

Wu Ye’s face turns green at the blunt remark. He stomps harder, rustling the fallen leaves underfoot. “Fine, then! Don’t expect to eat any of my food tomorrow!”

Qing Heng looks at the sky, noting to himself that today is about to end soon anyway. He and Qiao Qiao are both quite full, they don’t need any more food.

Following Wu Ye’s lead, they soon arrive at the cabin door. Though small, the cabin has everything—a bed, a wardrobe, and a table and chairs.

Qing Heng walks to the bed and carefully places the child from his arms onto it. He’s barely straightened up when the chubby little hands on the bed grab onto his clothes, holding on tightly. 

Qing Heng patiently pries open the small hands. Once he finally gets them open, he gives the child a gentle pat on the back to keep him from waking up. This whole routine takes quite a bit of time.

While Qing Heng is doing this, Wu Ye stands nearby, arms crossed, watching. Suddenly, he asks: “Does it not bother you to touch him?”

Qing Heng pauses at the question, then responds with his usual calm, “No.”

Wu Ye stares at him, then asks: “Can I touch you?”

Wu Ye knows that Qing Heng dislikes being touched by others. Even during their sword matches, Qing Heng has never allowed Wu Ye to make any physical contact. 

While they’ve never touched, Wu Ye considers himself lucky compared to others. Most people can’t even come close to Qing Heng, yet Wu Ye can stand beside him for quite a while without causing any visible discomfort.

“You should go rest.”

Qing Heng says, his tone is cold. “I need to rest too.”

The meaning behind his words is clear: He’s declining the request.

Though Wu Ye is usually nonchalant, he’s not a rude person. Since Qing Heng won’t let him, he just shrugs and lets it go.

“I’ll sleep on the floor, you two go ahead.” Wu Ye takes a blanket from the wardrobe, lays it out on the ground, and lies down with it half-covered.

The night is deep. Qing Heng tidies up a bit, then climbs into the bed as well. He pulls the little one close and closes his eyes to sleep. Having not rested for several days, he finds himself sleeping especially soundly once he hits the bed. 

The two breathing patterns—one big, one small, interweave in the darkness, creating an inexplicable sense of calm. Wu Ye, however, is wide awake, hands folded behind his head, lost in thought.

This small, quiet cabin remains undisturbed. Meanwhile, the two senior brothers searching for the child nearby aren’t having as peaceful a time.

Bai Yu slumps onto a bench, scratching his head as he questions You Qing for the umpteenth time: “Where on earth did Immortal General Qing Heng take Qiao Qiao?”

He had chased as fast as he could that day, but he still didn’t even catch a glimpse of them.

Opposite him, You Qing looks a bit calmer, his face showing a small trace of serenity. “Qiao Qiao was poisoned, and Immortal General Qing Heng will take care of him.”

So, being by Immortal Qing Heng’s side is the safest place for Qiao Qiao. Unlike them, who are still being pursued by members of the Da Fei royal family.

After bringing Du Sheng back, the Da Fei royal family had thoroughly investigated everything that had happened that day. Du Sheng was the one who poisoned Qiao Qiao, and they were clearly in the wrong. But, thick-skinned as they are, the royal family insisted on shielding Du Sheng, despite his guilt.

They divided their forces into three groups—one to track down You Qing, one to find Qing Heng, and another to head to the Ling Tian sect. 

Their single aim? To force the pursued to lift the truth curse on Du Sheng, no matter who they managed to catch. The Da Fei royal family holds Du Sheng, a rare triple spiritual rooted individual, in high regard. 

But lifting his curse? That’s not going to happen. You Qing recalls the last time he saw Ming Qiao coughing up blood. He wishes he could make Du Sheng suffer a hundred times over, dying repeatedly if possible.

“Repaying evil with good” has never been You Qing’s philosophy. He believes in “an eye for an eye”.

“Oh, I know that Immortal Qing Heng will take care of him, but I just want to see Qiao Qiao.” Bai Yu sighs. 

“If I’d known this trip would be such a disaster, I would’ve gotten someone to read my fortune before we left.”

It’s too late for fortune-telling now, he can only take things one step at a time. They definitely can’t go back to their sect. Both of them are being pursued, returning to the sect now would only bring trouble with them.

“Junior brother, don’t you miss Qiao Qiao?”

Bai Yu chats with You Qing, seemingly trying to ease his anxiety through conversation. When You Qing stays quiet, Bai Yu changes the topic.

“Oh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you get the curse? It’s a spell crafted by demon cultivators, not a good thing.”

“I drew it.” You Qing replies honestly to Bai Yu. 

“I found a book in the library with a lot of spells recorded. I just sketched a bit, and the curse appeared.”

Bai Yu is stunned. “Just sketched a bit, and you drew that curse? Junior brother, you’re that talented?”

Despite the praise, Bai Yu still feels the need to caution him. “Alright, using it this one time is fine, but don’t use it again. You’ve seen how dangerous it can be—it brings big trouble if not handled carefully.”

Bai Yu’s warning seems lost on You Qing, who doesn’t appear to take it to heart. Seeing this, Bai Yu’s eyes narrow as he targets You Qing’s soft spot.

“If something happens to you because of this curse, have you thought about how sad Qiao Qiao would be?” 

Bai Yu asks: “He’s still so little and weak. Don’t you want to be around to watch him grow up?”

Bai Yu knows exactly where to strike. Hearing these words, You Qing’s usually intense, fearless expression softens, showing a rare concern for his own survival.

While they continue looking for the child, Wu Ye leads Qing Heng and the child along the path toward Wu Xiang City. The journey is difficult. The final stretch is shrouded in mist, with visibility no more than a few meters.

Lying in Qing Heng’s arms, Ming Qiao watches the dense fog and the occasional flashes of green light flickering within it, feeling a little scared.

“Mom, how much farther?” he asks.

“Almost there.” Wu Ye replies, hearing the tremor in the little one’s voice. 

“We’re almost there.”

They walk a little further, still with no end in sight. Ming Qiao sniffles, feeling that just being in Qing Heng’s arms isn’t giving him enough of a sense of safety. He stretches out his chubby hand toward Wu Ye, calling out: “Hold Qiao Qiao’s hand.”

Wu Ye raises an eyebrow. “Little scaredy-cat.”

Ming Qiao, too afraid to retort, keeps holding out his hand. His round, dark eyes wet with tears. “Hold Qiao Qiao’s hand.”

He’s not exactly afraid of the dark, but he’s definitely afraid of ghosts. Before they set out, Wu Ye had told him plenty of ghost stories about Wu Xiang City. The road they’re on now looks like a place where ghosts could easily appear, and Ming Qiao is so frightened he’s holding back tears.

Seeing the small hand stretched out, Wu Ye picks him up instead. “Alright, let your mom rest for a bit. I’ll carry you.”

When Wu Ye reaches for Ming Qiao, Qing Heng doesn’t object. The chubby, heavy child to Qing Heng, now seems light as cotton in Wu Ye’s arms.

“I’ve roasted so much meat and made so much soup, why haven’t you gained any weight?” Wu Ye says, lifting the child onto his shoulders.

Ming Qiao gasps. His eyes widen at the familiar feeling of being lifted high, and he clutches Wu Ye’s hair, exclaiming, “Daddy!”

—————————————————

Author’s Note:

Baby: Snuggles with Daddy!