Chapter 30: The True Feelings in the Heart

Moyao walked the entire way with an unnervingly calm expression, her earlier anxiety completely buried beneath a mask of composure. From the wide, open street, she slipped into a maze of narrow alleys, always keeping pace behind the figure in black.

Finally, she stopped in front of a secluded little house—small, but cozy-looking. “Song Xieling?”

She called out softly. A moment later, Song Xieling emerged from the house, dressed casually. “Moyao… Sorry. Things have gotten complicated lately. I’m afraid I need your help again.”

“What happened? And what’s with your face?” Moyao’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the haphazard bandages stuck across Song Xieling’s cheek.

Song Xieling instinctively flinched, avoiding eye contact. “After I took the card from you, I got followed. I didn’t realize it at first… They attacked me while I was sleeping.”

Moyao’s heart skipped a beat. “Did they hurt you anywhere else?”

He shook his head. “Moyao, they’re still coming after me. I need something—something to defend myself. Like… weapons.”

He knew full well that families like theirs—powerful, untouchable—always kept hidden reserves of protection. “Whatever you’ve got, I’ll give it to you. But do you know who’s behind this? If we don’t find out, running won’t solve anything.”

“I don’t know,” Song Xieling said, brows furrowed. His gaze darted past Moyao, scanning the shadows behind her. “When you came here… did you see anyone else?”

Moyao froze for a second, turning her head slightly toward the back. But before she could react, Song Xieling reached out and clamped a hand firmly on the back of her skull, pulling her hard into his chest.

The sudden move stunned her. Her breath caught, filled with the unmistakable, intoxicating scent unique to him—sharp, warm, masculine. She could feel the steady, powerful thump of his heartbeat against her ear, the raw masculinity radiating from him like heat from a flame.

“S-Song Xieling… what’s wrong?” she stammered, cheeks flushing.

His voice, young yet rich and low, rumbled above her head. “Don’t move. They’re watching us. I’m sorry, Moyao… I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

Her heart pounded relentlessly. “It’s okay… They know I’m from the Mo family. They won’t touch me. Have you been living like this all along?”

The thought of his bruised face twisted something deep inside her. Once a pampered heir, now a fugitive hunted by every shadow. Her hands trembled as she gripped his jacket, her eyes stinging, tears welling up—but she fought hard to keep her sobs silent.

Song Xieling had always been observant. He noticed the smallest shifts in people’s expressions. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispered. “But I promise—I’ll protect you. I’m so sorry.”

His hand on the back of her head burned with warmth, with safety. She pressed her face deeper into his chest, inhaling him like oxygen, desperate to hold onto him. “S-Song Xieling… I think… I might… I…”

Before she could finish, Song Xieling dropped to one knee, pulling her down with him. A low, furious growl escaped his lips. “Damn it!”

“What’s happening?” Moyao snapped her head up, panic rising.

He grabbed her hand tightly. “They’re attacking. I’m getting you out—now. Run. Go.”

“No! What about you? With me here, they won’t go too far. If I leave—”

“Shut up and go!” His eyes locked onto the figures outside, cold and unyielding. The hand gripping hers tightened—almost painfully—as if he were holding onto something irreplaceable.

Moyao finally steadied herself. “Fine. I’ll go. But you *promise* me—you’ll wait. I’ll come back. I’ll save you.”

He turned to look at her. Her eyes met his—fierce, unwavering, shimmering with unshed tears. The long lashes caught the fading light like scattered stars. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Go. Now.”

Outside, she broke into a sprint, pulling out her phone instantly. “Brother! Help! Hurry—someone’s hurting me!”

On the other end, Mo Boyu was half-asleep, sprawled on his bed. But the instant he heard his sister’s trembling cry, he jolted awake. “Yao-yao? Where are you? Stay put—I’m coming.”

“Bring more people, Brother! These guys aren’t messing around—they’ve got guns. And bombs.”

“What?!” Mo Boyu shot upright, already yanking on clothes. “Stay safe—I’m on my way.” He dialed immediately, summoning his private unit—elite, heavily armed, each man clad in tactical gear. Within minutes, several armored vehicles roared to life and sped toward the coordinates.

Not long after, Mo Boyu arrived at the location. “Yao?”

“Brother! You finally made it—hurry, go in!” Moyao sobbed, tugging desperately at his arm.

Mo Boyu pulled her back gently. “Stay here with them. I’ll take the others in.”

“Protect the lady,” he ordered sharply.

“Yes, sir!” Four towering black-clad operatives formed a tight perimeter around Moyao.

Mo Boyu adjusted his gear, then led the team forward. The small house stood in ruins—smoke still curled from shattered walls, the air thick with the acrid smell of explosives.

“Sir, no one’s left here. But there’s blood—leading east, into the woods.”

Mo Boyu drew his pistol. “Move in.”

Song Xieling had taken a bullet to the arm. All the traps he’d planted had been triggered by the attackers. He’d eliminated many, but the ones left were dangerous—experienced, ruthless.

“Shit. It’s the river ahead.” He’d planned his escape route carefully. But the enemy had anticipated him—cutting off every path, destroying his strategy in seconds.

Blood loss and old wounds made his legs heavy. Behind him, the assassins halted at the riverbank, scanning the water. “Where’d he go?”

“Probably nearby. Search thoroughly.”

Song Xieling gritted his teeth, pain flaring through his body. He crawled into a dense patch of tall grass, hiding. But the scent of blood grew stronger with every breath—his cover wouldn’t last much longer.

Then—a footstep. Slow. Deliberate.

He wrapped his jacket tightly over the barrel of his gun, ready.

The assassin poked his head out—just enough.

One shot. Clean. Right between the eyes. Dead before he hit the ground.