Chapter 97: Delicate Fragrance and Radiance Granted by Heaven, At Dawn Enhancing the Beauty Worthy of Admiration

Delicate fragrance and radiant beauty, bestowed by the heavens, at dawn lends its charm to the world.
“All right, you’re a grown man—have you no shame?” Fortunately, Ma Ruobing had never truly intended for Han Moyi to kneel before her; at last, she interrupted him.

“Understood!” Han Moyi sprang to his feet, delighted; after all, isn’t it said that a man’s knees are worth their weight in gold?

“I—” Ma Ruobing had just opened her mouth when her stomach betrayed her with a loud growl, her cheeks flushing involuntarily.

Ma Ruobing was already strikingly beautiful; now, with a pallor tinged by a flush of rose, she appeared even more fragile and pitiable. Han Moyi was nearly entranced by the sight.

“Hmph!” Seeing Han Moyi gazing at her so dazedly, Ma Ruobing snorted coldly.

Only then did Han Moyi come to his senses, grinning sheepishly at her as he sensibly handed her the roasted lamb in his hand.

“How am I supposed to eat if you don’t untie my hands?” Ma Ruobing shot him a glare, her tone annoyed.

“Oh, right, right, of course,” Han Moyi replied, about to bend down to untie the rope binding her wrists. Suddenly, he paused.

After a moment’s thought, Han Moyi forced a smile, more painful than a grimace, and said, “If I untie you, you won’t try to kill me again, will you?”

“Kill you? Of course I will,” Ma Ruobing answered coldly without hesitation, but after a brief pause, she added, “But I’ll have to wait until I’m full and have the strength to do it. Enough with the nonsense, hurry up and untie me, or I’ll starve to death.”

Though her words were fierce, Han Moyi couldn’t help grinning as he untied her hands. He wasn’t a fool; he could tell Ma Ruobing was not bloodthirsty—otherwise, she wouldn’t have saved those men at the desert inn. Besides, once she’d eaten his roasted lamb, did he really have to fear her? After all, those who eat your food owe you a debt, don’t they?

Still, as the saying goes, a woman’s heart is a needle lost at sea; Han Moyi couldn’t be sure Ma Ruobing wouldn’t turn on him after all.

Once her hands were free, Ma Ruobing flexed her wrists, and Han Moyi eagerly presented her with the roasted lamb. She didn’t stand on ceremony, taking it without hesitation.

He had expected her to devour the food ravenously, but to his surprise, she merely tore off a small piece and chewed it slowly, her manner exquisitely graceful.

Han Moyi was entranced. In Sanqi Town, he’d seen mostly servants and laborers eat as if they’d been starving half their lives, practically swallowing even the bowls. His own mother, Mu Yuan, was the most refined at the table, but even she fell short compared to Ma Ruobing.

“Amazing. No wonder people say the young ladies from the city are rare treasures. Seeing you today, the reputation is well-deserved,” Han Moyi praised sincerely.

“Nonsense,” Ma Ruobing replied indifferently. She was long accustomed to flattery and took no notice of Han Moyi’s compliments—indeed, she found them somewhat tiresome.

“City ladies are good at everything, except their tempers. Always so quick to threaten violence,” Han Moyi couldn’t help but mutter as he tasted defeat, grumbling under his breath, “As the sage said, ‘Only women and petty men are hard to deal with.’ The old man was right.”

Though he spoke softly, Ma Ruobing, seasoned in the ways of the world, didn’t miss a word.

“You—” She was about to retort when Han Moyi quickly offered her the water flask with a conciliatory smile.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Ma Ruobing said, accepting the flask and ignoring Han Moyi. After two mouthfuls, she looked at the greasy roasted lamb in her hand and frowned, passing both it and the water flask back to Han Moyi.

Han Moyi could tell she didn’t care for the lamb. Suddenly, an idea struck him; he set both the meat and flask aside and walked toward the back.

The white wolf was still happily gnawing on the wild fruit it had found. As soon as it looked up and saw Han Moyi’s mischievous grin and his gaze fixed on the fruit, the wolf glanced down and realized there was only one fruit left.

“Snowball, I’ll be borrowing this fruit for a bit,” Han Moyi said, and in a flash, snatched the last wild fruit from the ground. The white wolf, knowing Han Moyi’s ‘borrowing’ likely meant ‘not returning,’ lunged for it, but was a moment too slow; Han Moyi had already seized it.

“Aah!” Han Moyi yelped, for the white wolf, annoyed, had bitten him.

A while later, an odd tableau appeared again in the withered poplar forest.

Ma Ruobing took a delicate bite of the wild fruit, whose abundant juice moistened her parched lips; Han Moyi, massaging his bitten arm, devoured the leftover lamb in large gulps, while the white wolf glared at him with a mixture of anger and grievance. Han Moyi, feeling guilty, dared not meet its gaze.

With their hunger finally sated, Han Moyi and Ma Ruobing fell silent; an awkward air hung between them.

“I’m heading to the White Tower Inn. Are you coming with me?” Han Moyi was the first to break the silence.

To his surprise, Ma Ruobing nodded in agreement. “Mm.”

“Your carriage is broken, and I have only one horse,” Han Moyi remarked, picturing the two of them sharing a saddle, galloping across the desert.

“You mean that horse over there?” Ma Ruobing hesitated, then pointed into the distance.

“Of course. Is there any other?” Han Moyi followed her gesture toward his horse, but the sight that met his eyes left him stunned.

His horse had collapsed to the ground at some point, foaming at the mouth—a pitiful sight, clearly beyond saving.

“Didn’t you just say you had one horse left?” Ma Ruobing, seeing Han Moyi’s ashen face, understood at once and felt a chill run through her heart. Without a horse, it would take them several days on foot.

As both fell into thought, the white wolf, seemingly aware of Han Moyi’s predicament, let out a low growl, as if mocking him.

That growl snapped Han Moyi back to reality. His eyes lit up with mischief as he stared at the white wolf.

“We still have one mount left.”

The white wolf, catching Han Moyi’s meaning, backed away in alarm, its eyes blazing with indignation and its growl saying clearly, “Just because you can’t woo a woman without a horse, what’s that to me? I’m a wolf!”

Ma Ruobing had noticed the white wolf but, confident in her own skills, felt no danger from it.

“By the way, you owe your life to Snowball—he played a major role in saving you,” Han Moyi said, now seeking the wolf’s favor and, indeed, speaking the truth.

“Snowball?” Ma Ruobing looked at the white wolf in puzzlement.

“Yes, that’s the name I gave him. What do you think? Isn’t it nice?” Han Moyi replied with self-satisfaction; he was quite pleased with the name.

“But… Snowball is a wolf,” Ma Ruobing still didn’t understand what Han Moyi was getting at. After scrutinizing the wolf, she couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m telling you, Snowball is no ordinary wolf. He can get this big—this big!” Han Moyi gestured expansively, making the wolf appear twenty times its actual size.

Ma Ruobing gazed at his animated gestures, then at the innocent-looking white wolf, which at the moment was quite small. Looking back at Han Moyi, her eyes filled with pity: “Could it be that, after what happened to his family, he’s lost his mind? If that’s true, he is truly pitiful.”

Han Moyi, seeing her expression, realized she didn’t believe him. In desperation, he recounted in vivid detail how the white wolf, leading its pack, had found her in the desert and saved her, especially emphasizing how both the black giant wolf and the white wolf could grow to enormous size. He left out, however, the part about acquiring the Demon Blade and his own embarrassing fainting episode.

“Are you telling the truth?” Ma Ruobing, seeing his earnestness, was half-convinced.

To prove himself, Han Moyi patted the white wolf’s head and whispered, “Snowball, do me a favor and get big—I’ll buy you an apple.”

The white wolf rolled its eyes and shook its head.

Han Moyi turned back to Ma Ruobing with an awkward smile and a helpless shrug.

“If all else fails, we’ll have to walk,” Han Moyi muttered.

“Mm, there’s nothing else for it,” Ma Ruobing agreed.

Just then, the white wolf moved. Like the day before, it shook itself, and its body began to grow, becoming even larger than before—a veritable snow-capped hill.

“See, I told you!” Han Moyi exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the wolf.

Ma Ruobing stared in amazement, frowning but saying nothing.

Now it was the white wolf’s turn to look at Han Moyi as if he were a fool.

“Let’s go! To the White Tower Inn!” The white wolf crouched down; Han Moyi climbed on, then reached out to pull Ma Ruobing up behind him.