Her lips quivered, confusion flickering in her eyes. Anchhi almost scoffed, but her voice came out weak. "Why would I... why would I go with you?"
Shuo Jin clenched his jaw, suddenly regretting his offer. Why had he spoken? Why had he allowed himself to get involved?
"Because staying here will destroy you," he said, his words colder than he intended. "You'll be banished from the capital or worse... sold off. The royal court is ruthless. You know that as well as I do."
Her heart sank at the harsh truth. Banished. Sold off. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And here was Shuo Jin, offering her an escape... a cold, emotionless escape, but an escape nonetheless.
"I don't need your pity," she spat, her voice trembling with anger. Her hands balled into fists as she stood up, weak but defiant. "Why should I trust you? Why would I follow you into the mountains?"
Shuo Jin felt the sting of her words. He regretted ever offering her help. Regretted that soft moment when he let his guard down, when he had pitied her. She was bickering with him like nothing had changed, like she wasn't a woman whose world had just fallen apart. Why did he care? She was better off alone, wasn't she?
And yet... he stayed.
"I don't expect you to trust me," Shuo Jin finally said, his voice firm but quieter now, laced with something deeper. Regret? Guilt? "But you have no other options. Your family... your family is gone. This place is gone. If you stay, you'll be at the mercy of the court. You don't know what kind of hell they'll put you through. The mountains may not be much, but at least you won't be sold into some brothel or paraded around like a broken relic."
Anchhi fell silent, her anger subsiding as the weight of his words pressed down on her. He was right, of course. She didn't want to admit it, but she had nothing left. Nowhere to go. And the court—what would they do to her? The thought of being sold off, stripped of whatever dignity she still clung to, made her stomach churn.
"But... why?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why are you offering this?"
Shuo Jin hesitated, unsure of the answer himself. Why was he doing this? Why did it feel like his heart had cracked a little when he saw her so broken, sitting alone on the cold ground? He wasn't supposed to care. His mission was supposed to be his only concern, his only loyalty.
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "Maybe I... maybe I feel some sense of responsibility. For what happened. For Fei Zhirong. For you."
Anchhi swallowed hard, her throat tight. Fei Zhirong. Her father. The mention of his name sent a fresh wave of pain through her, but there was no point in fighting anymore. Shuo Jin had been right about one thing—she had no options.
She took a deep breath, though it did nothing to steady her trembling hands. "Fine," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll come with you."
Shuo Jin didn't respond immediately. He simply turned, gesturing for her to follow. A quiet relief settled over him, but it was laced with guilt. He had no idea if this was the right decision, for either of them.
As they walked through the silent streets of the capital, Anchhi barely registered the world around her. She had no time to process it all, no time to mourn. She felt numb, as if the world had turned into a bleak, dreamlike haze. Everything had fallen apart. Her father's execution, her family stripped of nobility, the betrayal that cut deeper than any sword—Crown Prince Hui Jing.
She had trusted him, believed in him, and had never imagined in her darkest nightmares that he would turn away from her. The one who had once fought to prove her innocence now left her to suffer. The pain of his betrayal gnawed at her, leaving a raw, hollow ache in her chest. She had given him her loyalty, and he had shattered it.
And here, she was following this man into the mountains with no idea what awaited her there.
Shuo Jin glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She walked beside him, her steps mechanical, her expression distant. He wondered what she was feeling. Grief, surely. But something else lingered beneath the surface, something he couldn't quite name.
For a moment, he almost spoke—but the words never came. He wasn't good at this, wasn't good at offering comfort.
~~~~~~
The rhythmic clop of hooves echoed through the dense mountain path, the black horse carrying them deeper into the wilderness. The cold mountain air bit at Anchhi's cheeks, but the warmth radiating from Shuo Jin's body behind her kept her from feeling the chill. They had been riding in silence for most of the journey, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence—it was the kind filled with unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings. Anchhi sat in front, leaning slightly against Shuo Jin.
"The mountains... they've always been my refuge," Shuo Jin said, his tone calm but distant. "I spent years here, training, honing my skills. The mountains taught me everything I know about survival. They're harsh, but they make you stronger."
Anchhi listened, though part of her remained lost in her sorrow. Yet something about his voice, steady and controlled, tugged at her attention.
She felt his warmth against her back, his strong arms loosely holding the reins, his body close enough that she could feel his heartbeat in sync with the horse's movements. His scent—masculine, woodsy, with a hint of something dark—was intoxicating, mingling with the sharp air of the mountains.
Shuo Jin continued, unaware of the growing tension between them. "I'm returning to the place where I was shaped, where I learned discipline, swordsmanship, and everything that made me who I am. These mountains... they hold memories."
Anchhi's pulse quickened as his words pulled her back to the moment. His presence was overwhelming, the proximity between them making her hyper-aware of every subtle movement. She wasn't used to this, wasn't used to feeling this kind of intensity with anyone, let alone him.
They sat so close that her body felt as if it was on fire from his warmth. She tried to focus on his words, but all she could feel was the tension between them—unspoken, electric.
A question popped into her mind, one that felt safe enough to ask without treading on painful memories. "Who trained you?" Her voice was soft, hesitant.
"My grandmaster," Shuo Jin replied, his tone shifting slightly, a touch of respect in his voice. "A man of honor. He gave ten years of his life to train me, to make me the warrior I am. Without him, I would have been lost."
Anchhi felt a strange sense of curiosity tug at her, but she didn't push further. There was something in his voice that suggested he didn't want to talk about his past, at least not in detail. She was careful, knowing that any mention of his younger years—especially the time when he had been wrongfully accused and exiled at the age of eleven—could trigger him. The last thing she wanted was to reopen that wound.
She swallowed, trying to shift her thoughts and keep the conversation flowing, to distract herself from the closeness of their bodies and the heat building between them. "How long will it take to reach the mountains?" she asked, her tone light but her heart racing.
"By dusk, we should arrive at the foot of the mountain," Shuo Jin replied, his voice steady but strained. He didn't let it show, but inside, he could feel it—the way her body leaned against him, her scent drifting to him like a soft breeze.
Her presence was affecting him in ways he hadn't anticipated, and he hated how much he noticed it. He had offered her a way out because he felt responsible, not because he wanted to be close to her. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
But now, with her so near, every subtle shift of her body sent a jolt through him. He cursed himself for even feeling anything. This wasn't what he had planned—this wasn't about emotions. He had spent years hardening himself against such things, and yet... here she was, making him feel.