This journey extends thousands of miles, and only you are my way home.
Ji Hong understood that Aunt Xu’s health was not good, so he specially arranged for Dr. Luo and his disciples to guard her day and night, fearing that something unexpected might happen. But just earlier, Dr. Luo had said there was some improvement, so how had things suddenly worsened?
The servant had no sense of propriety, knocking on the door so loudly that it woke the young man in his arms.
As Yu Jinnian opened his eyes, he heard the news that Aunt Xu was dying. Immediately, he tried to get out of bed, but his back hurt, and his fever had not fully subsided, making his face pale and frightening. Ji Hong knew he couldn’t stop him, so he hurried to help him put on his shoes and socks, and hastily supported him towards Aunt Xu’s room.
When they entered, Aunt Xu had just coughed up a mouthful of bloody foam and then reclined her head, coughing hoarsely and gasping for breath as if she couldn’t get enough air. A medicine boy quickly wiped the blood from her mouth with a handkerchief and casually tossed it onto the table before rushing to fetch the ginseng soup that was always kept ready on the stove.
Qing Huan noticed the worried look on Dr. Luo’s face and overheard that they were going to give her ginseng soup to prolong her life. She immediately felt as if the sky was falling. Kneeling beside the bed, she gently stroked Aunt Xu’s chest, trying to make her more comfortable. When the medicine boy brought the ginseng soup, Qing Huan helped to feed it to her. But for every sip she gave, Aunt Xu coughed up two. Qing Huan hurriedly pulled out the handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe her mouth and urged, “Aunt Xu, drink a little, just a little!”
Yu Jinnian staggered over and called out, “Aunt Xu.”
Qing Huan gasped, “Brother Nian, why did you get up! You’re so badly hurt…” Yes, both of the family’s pillars were gravely injured, and their noodle shop had burned down. As she spoke, she started to cry. Normally so resourceful, she now had no idea what to do next.
Aunt Xu coughed violently, her breathing harsh and loud, as if her throat had been strained to its limit. Yu Jinnian took the handkerchief Qing Huan had just used to wipe her mouth and noticed that it was stained not only with blood but also with dark soot. He was still feverish and muddle-headed, having only heard Ji Hong and Dr. Luo’s reports, so he had truly believed Aunt Xu’s condition was stable. He had forgotten that sometimes things only appeared stable on the surface while being dangerously critical underneath.
That day, the fire had raged so fiercely it had roared up in an instant. Although he had pushed Aunt Xu out right away, her frail body could not handle the thick smoke and intense heat. What might be just a few days of coughing for someone else had become a serious matter for her.
Soot in the phlegm, labored breathing, and a harsh, elevated wheezing sound—it was likely that the inhaled smoke had damaged her airways. Her throat and trachea might already be swollen, and judging by her condition, even her lungs were likely in grave danger.
Duan Ming, Shi Xing, and the others rushed in upon hearing the news. All of them had benefited from Aunt Xu’s kindness in some way, and now they were all anxious, but their worry couldn’t compare to that of the young man by the bedside.
Qing Huan tried again to feed Aunt Xu the ginseng soup. She didn’t understand medicine; she only knew that ginseng soup was for prolonging life, and she naively believed that as long as Aunt Xu drank it, she would live.
Yu Jinnian watched as Aunt Xu spat out all the ginseng soup, and suddenly said, “Bring me a knife.”
Qing Huan froze, staring blankly at Yu Jinnian, while the medicine boy, reacting quickly, rummaged through Luo Qian’s medicine chest and pulled out a scalpel. The blade was sharp like a sword, typically used for lancing abscesses. The medicine boy had seen Yu Jinnian’s unconventional methods before, and thinking he had come up with another miraculous cure, he handed the scalpel to him without hesitation.
Yu Jinnian took the knife, gripping it with his right hand, his index finger pressed against the hilt. In an instant, the blade was poised at Aunt Xu’s throat.
Everyone was shocked, and someone even gasped audibly. The medicine boy who handed him the knife was stunned, thinking Yu Jinnian had failed to save her and was now about to end her life himself.
“Jinnian, Jinnian!”
Yu Jinnian snapped back to reality, feeling a hand gripping his wrist. He panted heavily, swallowed hard, and looked up—it was Ji Hong. The tip of the scalpel was already pressed against the side of Aunt Xu’s neck, drawing a bead of blood. Glancing around at the worried faces staring at him, Yu Jinnian’s hand trembled slightly, gripping the knife tighter before slowly easing it away with Ji Hong’s help.
Ji Hong pulled the scalpel from his hand and tossed it to the floor with a clang.
No one blamed him, assuming it was a momentary lapse in judgment.
Just then, Aunt Xu began convulsing, her eyes wide and helplessly staring upwards. Several people rushed over. Dr. Luo quickly pulled out a few acupuncture needles and inserted them into the emergency resuscitation points. The room became chaotic with people calling for water and medicine, along with Qing Huan’s sobbing… Yu Jinnian, however, backed away, standing blankly by the side, watching.
“I didn’t want to kill her.” Ji Hong blinked and heard the young man beside him whisper, “I wanted to perform a tracheotomy. After opening the airway, insert a reed tube to help her breathe…”
Ji Hong didn’t understand what a tracheotomy was, but recalling the boy’s earlier actions, he had a vague idea. He was also astonished by the boy’s audacity. In this world, only Yu Jinnian would dare propose such things as sewing bones and skin together. And now he was suggesting opening the airway—utterly unheard of.
Yu Jinnian’s eyes dimmed, and he stopped mid-sentence, mocking himself, “Forget it. Even if I opened it, it would only add to her suffering.”
He knew in his heart that Aunt Xu’s body was already at its limit. She couldn’t withstand the damage from an airway incision. If they were in his previous life, with everything prepared, perhaps he could attempt it. But under the current circumstances, it was impossible. Even if he performed invasive resuscitation, it would be no different from a death sentence for her.
After a brief pause, Ji Hong frowned and said, “I know you have a thousand ways to save lives. But never mention this tracheotomy again, nor try it.”
If the method succeeded, the boy would be hailed as a divine doctor. But if it failed even once, he would be branded a murderer, condemned by everyone, and shackled for life. No matter what, Ji Hong didn’t want Yu Jinnian to take that risk.
Yu Jinnian didn’t argue but quietly responded with a soft “hmm.”
As he watched Luo Qian use every emergency technique he knew on Aunt Xu, Yu Jinnian suddenly felt numb. The faces of the people bustling around the room blurred into wooden puppets, running about aimlessly. He thought of his adoptive father collapsing after being stabbed— it had been the same chaotic scene. He had lain on his sickbed, watching the chaos outside, unable to do anything.
After being reborn, he had believed he could save everyone. But in the end, he couldn’t do anything at all.
Someone cried out, “Mother—!”
Yu Jinnian’s vision went dark, and he collapsed.
He had been pushing himself too hard despite his injuries. Just moments before, he had been feverish and confused, and then rushed to see Aunt Xu. He had been holding on with sheer willpower, stubbornly refusing help. Only when he collapsed into Ji Hong’s quick arms did Ji Hong realize that his back was soaked, both with cold sweat and a faint trace of blood.
Ji Hong placed the boy back in bed and had someone reapply medicine and re-bandage him. Throughout the process, Yu Jinnian did not move, but his long eyelashes were bent under the weight of cold sweat along his eyelids. Perhaps due to the emotional strain, as soon as the bandaging was done, his fever spiked again, and he fell into such a deep sleep that even Ji Hong couldn’t wake him.
Outside, there was a frantic atmosphere. After a while, Duan Ming knocked on the door and entered, his expression dark. “…She’s gone. She didn’t make it. It happened just now.”
Outside the window, the sky had just brightened, veiled in a foggy haze. The window frame, soaked from the past few days of rain, gave off a musty scent of rotting wood and grass. A heavy spiderweb hung in the corner, layer upon layer, but the spider itself was nowhere to be seen.
“Handle everything carefully,” Ji Hong said after a long silence, his eyes closed. He sat by the bed, holding Yu Jinnian’s hand. Their fingers intertwined, one weak, the other long and steady.
Wood dies and becomes a window; spiders die and form webs. But when a person dies, nothing is left behind.
Ji Hong understood this well.
——
No matter how much one reflects, the most pressing matter was to ensure that Aunt Xu received a proper burial. Qing Huan, holding Sui Sui, wept uncontrollably beside the coffin. With the noodle shop left without anyone in charge, only Ji Hong took on the task of organizing everything.
The funeral master entered the house, immediately starting the preparations, writing the obituary and crafting the funeral banners. He also cut paper strips according to the deceased’s age.
The age paper was a bundle of white strips, with each year of life represented by one strip. If the deceased was male, the paper tails were cut to a pointed shape; for females, they were cut with open wings. The master chanted prayers as he carefully cut over thirty strips, tied them together, and hung them on a pole in front of the noodle shop to inform the neighbors that a funeral was to be held.
A long-burning lamp was lit in front of the coffin, and after all the rituals, it became clear to everyone: Aunt Xu had truly passed.
They had no intention of making a grand affair of it. Aunt Xu had no close relatives, and only a few nearby neighbors who were on good terms came to offer their condolences. Each of them remarked on how tragic her life had been.
Yu Jinnian slept and woke intermittently for two days. At his worst, he was so feverish that even touching him felt like handling fire.
The wake lasted three days. On the final day, just as night approached and it was time to bury Aunt Xu, Yu Jinnian’s fever finally broke. But after such a serious illness, he was still weak. His whole body felt limp, as if someone had drained him of all his strength. When he woke, he saw Ji Hong resting by his bedside, dark circles under his eyes, still loosely clutching a sweat towel as if he had fallen asleep without realizing it.
Yu Jinnian shifted over, pulling a bit of the blanket to cover Ji Hong’s shoulder, but was surprised when Ji Hong suddenly stirred.
Before Yu Jinnian could retract his hand, Ji Hong opened his eyes and caught him in the act.
“You’re awake?” Ji Hong sighed in relief, reaching out to feel the layer of sweat beneath Yu Jinnian’s clothes. He quickly stood up, mixing warm water in a copper basin, soaking the towel, and wringing it out before returning to the bedside to wipe the boy’s face and body.
Yu Jinnian had broken out in a sweat, his undershirt clinging stickily to his skin, making him uncomfortable. He could only lift his arms and let Ji Hong tend to him. After wiping his front, Ji Hong turned him over to clean his back. The medicinal ointment from Dr. Luo had worked wonders; in just a few days, his wounds had begun to heal, though they still required caution.
Lying on his side with one leg half-bent, Yu Jinnian felt Ji Hong’s gentle touch as a soft cloth brushed along the length of his slender legs, carefully wiping away the sweat. The gray-white cotton passed lightly over the scattered bruises on his lower back, contrasting with the creamy smoothness of his unharmed skin. Ji Hong paused and asked, “Aunt Xu’s burial is tomorrow. Do you… want to go?”
“She wasn’t family, so I won’t go.” Yu Jinnian buried half his face in the pillow, his tone clearly at odds with his true feelings. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go; he was afraid. Afraid of not knowing what to say, or what to do when he got there.
Ji Hong didn’t push him and continued wiping his back. “If you don’t want to go, then you don’t have to.”
But Yu Jinnian couldn’t help asking, “Where is she being buried?”
He was referring to the burial site. Ji Hong answered, “At Wenhua Ao, a location chosen by the funeral master. It’s a good spot, with mountains behind and water in front. In the peak of spring, the hills will be covered in flowers, brimming with life.”
The boy nodded, then suddenly turned around. He still hadn’t dressed, his bare body covered only by a bit of the blanket draped over his waist. He leaned into Ji Hong’s embrace. Ji Hong held him tightly, stroking the back of his head. “Cry if you need to. Just cry here.”
Yu Jinnian shook his head. He couldn’t cry. He only wanted a place to hide.
Despite saying he wouldn’t go, the next morning Yu Jinnian got up early and went into the kitchen to roll out dough. He hadn’t been out of bed for days, and all his meals had been arranged by Ji Hong. But his appetite was poor, and his spirits low. Even the most exquisite food felt tasteless to him. If he managed to eat a few bites, it was a good day, let alone eating on time.
Strangely enough, no matter when Yu Jinnian woke up hungry, whether in the middle of the night or otherwise, Ji Hong always managed to bring him fresh, hot food as if by magic.
But now, upon entering the kitchen, he discovered that there was still food simmering on the stove. A few chefs from the Spring Breeze Delight restaurant were slumped against the wall, fast asleep, looking thoroughly exhausted. There were pastry chefs, soup experts, and others who specialized in hot dishes. They all looked like they had been worked to the bone.
Only then did Yu Jinnian realize how he had been fed so well every day.
Truly indulgent.
He sighed and woke them gently, “Master Zhang, Master Liu, wake up!”
The few chefs woke up groggily, thinking it was Ji Hong coming to rush them for food again. They hurriedly wiped the drool from their mouths, scrambling to their feet, instinctively reaching for the ladles on the counter, their eyes barely open as they echoed, “Coming, coming! The food’s ready!”
Yu Jinnian couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head in exasperation. “No, no… I didn’t call for any food. You’ve worked hard these past days. Go home and get some rest!”
“Young Divine Doctor?” The group of chefs blinked at Yu Jinnian, finally realizing who was standing in front of them. But no one dared leave, fearing that Ji Hong might show up and be angry. They had only been told to cook, unaware of who had been eating their food, nor did they know that the very person responsible for their sleepless nights was this young doctor standing before them.
Seeing their hesitation, Yu Jinnian patiently explained the situation to them once again, emphasizing that he had the authority to send them home. Only then, after much gratitude, did the chefs slowly start to leave.
Once they were gone, Yu Jinnian returned to kneading the dough. This skill of making noodles was something Aunt Xu had taught him. If it weren’t for her kindness in taking him in that day, who knows where he would be wandering now? In this unfamiliar world, the first warm meal he had eaten was the handmade noodles Aunt Xu had cooked for him. Now that she was gone, it felt only right for him to prepare her farewell bowl of noodles himself.
He sliced the meat, simmered the broth, minced the mushrooms and vegetables, and carefully cooked the chicken bone stock—every detail meticulously attended to.
When Ji Hong awoke, he reached out and found the space next to him cold and empty, momentarily feeling a pang of disorientation. Yu Jinnian had finally broken his fever the day before, and Ji Hong had finally let go of the tension that had gripped him for three or four days. The accumulated exhaustion hit him all at once, and he had fallen into a deep sleep, unaware of when the boy had left the bed. He quickly put on a robe and went out to search, following a familiar scent to the kitchen.
Yu Jinnian’s face was still pale, not yet back to its pre-illness flush, and he looked thinner, but his skill with the ingredients remained as smooth and practiced as ever.
As Ji Hong entered the room, Yu Jinnian was just placing a fried egg on top of a freshly made bowl of mixed sauce noodles.
“Up so early to cook? You’re still not fully recovered,” Ji Hong said with concern.
“Mmm, it’s fine,” Yu Jinnian smiled faintly, placing a pair of chopsticks into the bowl and leading the way to the room where the wake was being held. They placed the bowl in front of the coffin, and Yu Jinnian lit incense, bowing his head in respect. After checking how much oil was left in the long-burning lamp, he said, “I just wanted to make a bowl of farewell noodles for Aunt Xu.”
After completing the rituals, Ji Hong urged him to eat something as well.
Yu Jinnian stayed by the side until the sun rose. The oil in the lamp slowly dwindled, and the funeral master, having calculated the time, came to lead the procession. The front of the house bustled with activity, but Yu Jinnian, feeling weak and dizzy, was unable to help. Ji Hong forced him to retreat to the kitchen, where he managed to eat a small piece of cake and drink a bowl of noodle soup.
When the time came, someone outside announced that the long-burning lamp had gone out. Ji Hong handed Yu Jinnian a bowl, saying, “It’s time.”
A group of people awaited him. The black coffin had been sealed shut, and the once warm spring weather seemed to suddenly turn cold again. Holding the bowl, Yu Jinnian approached the coffin. Outside, the sky was bright and clear, with a piercing blue stretching above. He took a deep breath, raised the bowl, and smashed it hard against the ground.
The funeral master dragged out his chant: “Raise the coffin—”
This act of breaking the bowl was usually done by the eldest son. Traditionally, it involved smashing a clay pot filled with burned paper money, symbolizing the transition from mourning to a better fortune and ensuring the deceased’s smooth passage into the afterlife. In some regions, breaking a bowl served the same purpose. Though Yu Jinnian and Aunt Xu were not related by blood, their bond was strong. Aside from Sui Sui, no one had been closer to her than him.
The heavy coffin weighed down on the pallbearers’ shoulders, making even the tallest of them seem shorter by several inches. Sui Sui carried the ancestral tablet, led by Qing Huan, as they slowly made their way down the alley. Yu Jinnian followed a few steps, feeling heavier with each step, until he stopped, unable to go any farther. In truth, Ji Hong had already given him an excuse, saying that he was still recovering and shouldn’t walk too much. But in reality, it was Yu Jinnian’s own reluctance—he couldn’t bear to witness the scene.
——
With Aunt Xu buried and laid to rest, the inn that had been bustling with noise and activity for so long finally quieted down.
Everything appeared calm on the surface, but in truth, the silence was suffocating. No one could eat or sleep well. Compared to the others, Yu Jinnian seemed like the heartless one, appearing more composed than anyone else. His appetite had even returned, and his wounds were healing faster than expected.
But at night, behind the privacy of the bed curtains, he clung more than ever.
Ji Hong knew Yu Jinnian was hurting deeply. The recent calamities, both natural and man-made, had taken a heavy toll. The fear and confusion gnawed at him, but Yu Jinnian kept these feelings hidden from everyone.
As his wounds began to heal, Yu Jinnian was finally able to sleep lying down, though the itchiness of the new scars made it hard to rest, especially late at night. It felt like a small bug crawling over his skin. Since the wounds were on his back, he couldn’t reach them himself and had to lie on his pillow, softly whimpering in discomfort.
“It means you’re healing. Just bear with it a little longer.” The scar was a reddish-brown line, looking even more vicious than the fresh wound. Every time Ji Hong saw it, his heart ached. He gently rubbed his fingers around the edges of the scar, providing some relief, though it was like scratching an itch through a shoe. After easing the discomfort a bit, he applied the healing ointment.
The cool sensation on his back made Yu Jinnian lift his head, calling, “Ah Hong.”
“Hmm?” Ji Hong responded softly, focused on carefully applying the dark red ointment to the boy’s wound. But after answering, Yu Jinnian fell silent again. The ointment needed to be left to absorb for a quarter of an hour, so Ji Hong wiped his hands clean and picked up a book, leaning against the bed to read.
Yu Jinnian had always been docile in front of him, and now he seemed even softer. His eyes glowed amber in the light, gazing blankly at Ji Hong for a while before murmuring, “It’s nothing, just wanted to call your name. I’m just glad you’re still here… I’m glad you’re still with me.”
Ji Hong’s hand froze mid-turn of the page, and he looked down to see Yu Jinnian staring at him intently. A lump formed in Ji Hong’s throat. He set the book aside, cupped the back of Yu Jinnian’s neck, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. When the boy didn’t pull away, Ji Hong slowly moved the kiss to the tip of his nose, gently pressing against it.
He didn’t move away but didn’t press further either. Their breaths intertwined, both of them unusually calm. Ji Hong glanced at him, silently asking for permission. Yu Jinnian’s eyes lowered, brushing his face against Ji Hong’s palm before lifting his chin slightly.
Only then did Ji Hong lean in, brushing his lips against Yu Jinnian’s. The kiss wasn’t deep; he only captured the boy’s lips, lightly grazing them with his tongue, lingering softly. Yet, even this slight touch made Yu Jinnian’s cheeks flush, as if someone had smeared blush on his pale face, so delicate that one would hesitate to press any harder.
Ji Hong pulled back slightly, but Yu Jinnian tugged at his collar, not letting him leave.
“Jinnian,” their lips close together, Ji Hong lowered his gaze and gently rubbed the flushed corner of the boy’s eye with his thumb. His heart was filled with tenderness, and his eyes were full of helplessness as he whispered, “Come back to the capital with me.”
Yu Jinnian lifted his eyes to look at him.
“There’s no home here anymore. We’ll build another one… a home for us,” Ji Hong said softly, “Hmm? How does that sound?”
These words struck right at Yu Jinnian’s heart. Having struggled through two lifetimes, all he ever wanted was a place to call home, a place he could always return to, no matter how far he wandered. So when Ji Hong mentioned the idea of home, he could no longer hold back the pain he had been suppressing. It was as if a long-sore spot in his heart had finally been pierced, releasing a flood of bittersweet emotions.
Ji Hong held his fingers, speaking gently, talking about the sights of the capital, and speaking of their future “home.” He said, “If you don’t like living in the main house, we’ll move to my second brother’s estate at Jinyouting, but it’ll need some renovation beforehand. Or if you prefer, we can find another place, and I’ll build you a separate courtyard for your medicinal workshop…”
By the time he finished, Yu Jinnian had been resting his head on Ji Hong’s shoulder in silence. Seeing that the boy was tired, Ji Hong stopped talking and picked up his book to read again. Before bed, as the candle was about to go out, Ji Hong casually asked again about returning to the capital. He hadn’t expected a response, but to his surprise, the person in his arms gently wrapped an arm around his neck and murmured a soft “hmm.”
As the weather warmed, the willow branches began to sprout, and letters urging the Min brothers to return to the capital arrived one after another. Soon, it was the spring equinox, and the carriages and horses were all ready. Everyone’s injuries had mostly healed, and there was no reason to delay their departure any longer.
Yu Jinnian had carefully cleaned and packed all the gold and silver he had salvaged from the ruins of the noodle shop, storing them neatly in a box. He had already made up his mind—he would go to the capital with them. Along the way, he would investigate the truth behind the fire that destroyed the shop. He would also take Sui Sui with him, as he had promised Aunt Xu.
He had considered that if Qing Huan had other plans, he would give her some money so she could have some financial security. But before he could ask, Qing Huan, having heard from Duan Ming about their return to the capital, came running to him herself, begging him to take her along as a servant girl.
Yu Jinnian was naturally happy that Qing Huan wanted to come along.
Just after agreeing to that, he stepped outside and saw Su Ting pulling a donkey cart, with Ah Chun sitting on it. One claimed that he had promised Bai Haitang he would take him to the capital to see the snow, and the other said he needed to search for his missing brother along the way.
Yu Jinnian: “…”
In the end, no one was left behind. Even Dingdang, who hadn’t been seen since the incident, seemed to sense the departure and jumped off a wall, hopping straight into the prepared carriage and lounging comfortably on the soft cushion meant for Yu Jinnian.
As for Shi Xing and Young Master Jiang, they clung to each other in reluctant farewells for quite some time.
Before their departure, Yu Jinnian suddenly expressed the desire to visit the noodle shop one last time.
The ruins had been guarded under strict watch by Min and Ji’s people, preventing even a single mouse from getting inside. Ji Hong had sent people to clean up the place multiple times, but the fire had been too fierce, leaving the shop almost entirely reduced to ashes.
Yu Jinnian stood in front of the door as sunlight filtered through the crumbling walls, casting light on the dilapidated noodle shop’s signboard. The once lively courtyard was now covered in a layer of dry black ash, leaving dirty footprints wherever one stepped. The surroundings were so twisted and collapsed that they were unrecognizable, with not a single spot left intact. As he stepped into the front hall and raised his hand, a half-hanging door fell with a crash.
Ji Hong quickly pulled the boy back a step, preventing him from getting covered in dust. Seeing that Yu Jinnian wanted to venture deeper inside, Ji Hong held back the urge to dissuade him and said patiently, “It’s dangerous in there. Be careful where you step—I’ll wait for you at the door.”
Yu Jinnian nodded. “I’ll be right out.”
Ji Hong could only trust him and let him go.
Slowly, Yu Jinnian wandered through every corner, lifting a broken wooden board from the floor. He found a few broken golden needles, some familiar fragments of colored porcelain, and a delicate wooden box, half-charred, with a small pile of soot scattered around it. Rubbing his fingers over it, the soot crumbled easily, revealing what had once been lustrous white pearls, now reduced to nothing.
This place, where he had lived for only half a year but had invested all his emotions, was now something he had to leave behind.
Back in the carriage, with a crack of the whip, the wheels began to turn, and soon they were out of the western city gate. The journey to the capital stretched over a thousand miles, and Yu Jinnian glanced back at the city gate, where the characters for “Xinan” hung high and proud, said to have been written by an official of a previous dynasty.
His hand was gently squeezed, and an arm wrapped around his waist. Ji Hong draped a freshly cleaned red cloak over him. “We woke up early today. If you’re tired, sleep for a while. I’ll wake you when we reach the next stop.”
“Mmm.” Yu Jinnian accepted the gesture, leaning his head against Ji Hong’s shoulder. His eyes lingered on the small scorch mark on the cloak before he slowly closed them.
Ji Hong tilted his head, pressing a kiss to the top of the boy’s head. “Are you afraid of going to the capital?”
The cat jumped onto Yu Jinnian’s lap, curling up on the soft fur of the rabbit-trimmed cloak, purring as it settled in. Yu Jinnian stroked the cat’s fur slowly, knowing in his heart that this journey would take him far, and returning would not be easy. He also knew he was heading toward an unknown future, vast and uncertain. But the scent of pinewood on Ji Hong’s clothes brought him peace, though it also clouded his mind.
His lips curved in the faintest of smiles. “As long as I’m with you, I’m not afraid of anywhere.”
No matter how far the journey, you are my only destination.