"The sword has been removed," Mo Lixia said as she helped Mochen take off his white coat before removing her own. "He lost a significant amount of blood and won't wake up immediately. If he survives the night without a fever, he will be out of danger."
"That is good news. Truly good news," Yan Xiuye sighed in relief. "If we couldn't save him, it would have been a catastrophe for us. Thank you, Doctor Mo."
"Master said he'll be fine, so he'll be fine!" Mochen added proudly, standing like a little guard.
"We are in your debt, Doctor Mo," the men said in unison.
"The house is a bit cramped, so I must ask you to wait in the living room," Mo Lixia said politely. "I will go brew some tea for you all."
"No need to trouble yourself, Doctor Mo," Yan Xiuye said, quickly signaling his attendants to take over the kitchen duties.
Beside him, Mo Wushang was staring at Mo Lixia with an intensity that bordered on desperation. "Doctor Mo... may I ask you a question?"
Mo Lixia looked at the noble-looking man, puzzled. "What is it, sir?"
"Do you... do you happen to have a mole behind your left ear?"
Mo Lixia stiffened. Her heart skipped a beat. How could he possibly know that?
"Yes! Yes! Master has one! How did you know, sir?" Mochen cried out, excited as if he had just solved a riddle.
"It's true? Li'er... I've finally found you!" Mo Wushang's voice cracked. He moved forward as if to embrace her, but Mo Lixia instinctively stepped back, avoiding him.
Mo Wushang froze, looking wounded.
"Brother Mo, calm down. You're frightening her," Yang Baiwen intervened, gently pulling Mo Wushang back. "It's been years; she might not remember. Let's take it slow."
Mo Lixia's head was spinning. She had a vague idea of what was happening, but the reality was hard to grasp. She stood there, her brow slightly furrowed, silent.
Yang Baiwen stepped forward with a gentle, scholarly air. "Forgive us, young lady. This old friend of mine lost a daughter years ago near Wuyue Mountain. Calculating the time, she would be exactly your age. Moreover, you look identical to his wife. His daughter had a mole exactly where yours is. May I ask... do you remember your past?"
"I..." Mo Lixia looked at Mo Wushang. Seeing this powerful, middle-aged man weeping openly in front of everyone made her heart ache with an unexpected pang of grief. "I don't know if I'm the person you're looking for. I don't know if I fell from a mountain. When I woke up seven years ago, I was in a place I didn't recognize. I didn't know my name or who I was. I was terrified. I ran until I found this village, where Master Qian took me in. He taught me medicine... and he passed away recently. I've lived here for seven years."
"It's you. It must be you!" Mo Wushang reached out a trembling hand and gently touched her hair. This time, although Mo Lixia was still stiff with unfamiliarity, she didn't pull away.
Seeing her acceptance, Mo Wushang's eyes overflowed with tenderness. He pulled her into a tight, protective embrace. "My child... I am so sorry. Your father has let you suffer for so long."
Mo Lixia stood frozen in his arms. In her past life, she had lost her parents young and had been raised by her grandparents. The concept of "parents" was foreign and distant. Yet, as she leaned into this man's chest, she felt a warmth she hadn't known she was missing.
Her eyes grew misty. Slowly, almost tentatively, she raised her arms and returned the embrace, clinging to this long-lost sense of home.
"Congratulations, Brother Mo!"
"A wonderful day indeed!"
Mo Wushang wiped his tears and laughed. "Thank you! Today is the luckiest day of my life. Heaven has eyes!"
Beside them, Mochen tugged at Mo Lixia's sleeve. "Master? Master... is this man your daddy?"
Mo Lixia smiled and nodded. Mochen looked down immediately, his expression unreadable.
That night, Mo Wushang stayed up late, asking Mo Lixia everything about her life over the past seven years. She answered as best she could. Eventually, Mochen began to doze off, and Mo Lixia prepared the boy's room for the guests to rest in, even laying out a floor mat for them.
Mo Wushang watched his daughter working—moving with a grace that came from years of independence. It pained him. Other noble ladies were served hand and foot, while his daughter had been forced to survive on her own.
Once in bed, Mo Lixia tried to settle Mochen.
"Master?" the boy whispered, his voice small and uncertain.
"What is it?"
"Now that Master has a daddy... will you send Mochen back to that house?"
Mo Lixia's heart ached. She hugged him tight. "No. Never. Don't think such silly things. Wherever I go, I will never abandon you."
"Squeak!" A'Mu added its voice to the conversation.
"Yes, you too, A'Mu," she laughed, stroking its soft fur.
"Really?" Mochen asked.
"Really. Now sleep."
But after Mochen fell asleep, Mo Lixia sat at her desk, staring into the darkness. She was worried. She knew her father would want her to go home. Home? She had grown used to her freedom here. From the way Lord Yan treated them, her father was likely a powerful official. And where there was power, there was trouble—something Mo Lixia wanted to avoid at all costs.
The next morning, the house was a hive of activity. Yan Xiuye's servants had taken over the kitchen. When Mo Lixia went to check on her patient, she found his condition stable.
Before breakfast was even served, a messenger arrived and whispered something to the men. Their expressions turned grim. Without much explanation, Yan Xiuye and his guards departed in a hurry, leaving the others behind.