Chapter Forty-Nine: The Unruly Rain

Coldheart stepped out, quietly standing beside Qianyin. Qianyin was so lost in thought she didn’t even notice someone approaching. Suddenly, the sea breeze grew wild, waves crashed against the rocks, and the wind howled mournfully. It seemed as though rain was imminent. The sky gradually darkened, thick clouds gathered, and even the clarity of the air began to fade.

Qianyin had been standing for over an hour when she realized her feet were numb. She crouched down, rubbing her legs with her small hands to restore feeling.

“It’s about to rain. Can you make it back?” Coldheart had been standing for just as long, but he was used to it and felt no fatigue. Seeing Qianyin crouch down, a smile curved his lips. This woman was just like a child.

Qianyin turned to look at him, caught off guard by the indulgent gaze in his eyes. She stared, a little dazed. Her mind began to wander again. What was wrong with men these days? She was an assassin, a top one at that—why did they dare treat her so freely? Was it as Coldheart had said, that she was beginning to step out of the world of assassins?

Coldheart noticed her absent-minded expression, and his smile grew wider. Whether she agreed or not, he strode forward and gathered her into his arms, carrying her as he walked.

Suddenly lifted off her feet, Qianyin pummeled him with her fists. It was the first time she’d been carried like a princess, and she was anxious. In truth, being carried this way felt unsafe; if she were dizzy and he tossed her into the river, she’d never know.

“Let me go,” Qianyin protested, unfriendly toward the man, increasing the strength of her blows.

“Don’t fuss. If you fall, I won’t be responsible,” Coldheart said, trying to suppress his urge to laugh, but adopting a serious, “I’m doing this for your own good” demeanor. Otherwise, he knew Qianyin would never cooperate.

Qianyin had no choice but to compromise, allowing him to carry her all the way to the road. Finally, she saw Coldheart’s ride—a blue-black modified motorcycle. Such bikes were rare, and this color even more so.

Seeing Qianyin’s keen interest in the bike, Coldheart offered, “Its name is Memory of Time. It means chasing memories, symbolizing speed. Want me to take you for a ride? Oh, and I have a gift for you.”

Qianyin noticed Coldheart was no longer as cold as before. He had changed, becoming more talkative, just like she herself had been. Chattering away without caring if others found him tiresome.

When Qianyin didn’t respond, Coldheart simply lifted her onto the bike. He made sure she was seated properly, then rode off into the wind.

Qianyin was supposed to be off seeking her next assignment—not for money, but out of boredom. Now, inexplicably, she found herself on his bike, letting him take the lead.

The motorcycle cruised steadily toward the remote mountains, undisturbed by stones or steep slopes. After about forty minutes, the trees thickened, marking their distance from the city.

Seated on the bike, Qianyin didn’t need to wrap her arms around his waist for safety, but his speed was so fast she felt compelled to hold onto him—a defensive gesture. This, however, made Coldheart smile in the chill of the rushing wind.

Finally, they arrived at their destination—a dilapidated house, isolated and rundown. Qianyin’s first thought was, was this man really so poor? Should she lend him money so he wouldn’t have to live in such a wreck? Wasn’t he afraid the wind might someday blow it away?

Standing at the door, Qianyin was lost in thought. Coldheart, unaware of her musings, would surely have kept her here for a day or two if he knew.

She looked around—dust everywhere, weeds, birds, insects, and mice scurrying and chirping about. The place felt unclean, like a haunt for demons, with all sorts of strange things lurking.

Coldheart said nothing, carefully opening the battered door and stepping inside. On the table sat a red wooden box. He opened it, revealing a red leather whip adorned with numerous diamonds. Uniquely, the hardest facets were exposed.

A single lash would surely tear flesh. This was a whip discovered in ancient Nanjing, and Coldheart found it fascinating. He had it specially crafted, as Qianyin had yet to find a suitable weapon. He thought this would be perfect, and easy to clean.

Pleased, Coldheart brought the whip to Qianyin. She watched his actions in surprise, unsure how to react to his proud, expectant gaze.

Coldheart waited, but when she didn’t take the whip, his anticipation turned to disappointment. What was wrong? Did she not like it? Had he been too presumptuous, thinking what he liked, she would too?

“Don’t like it? Sorry, I thought you would,” Coldheart murmured, preparing to put the whip away.

Qianyin reconsidered. It was only polite to accept a gift; she could always return the favor with something similar later. Refusing outright seemed cruel. Yet she still hadn’t realized Coldheart’s feelings for her, thinking of him merely as a friend.

After her deliberation, Qianyin snatched the whip and smiled, “I like it very much. Thank you. When I find something you like, I’ll give it to you.”

With those words, even the air seemed to lighten. Coldheart finally laughed, and wanted to say: “I like you, so give yourself to me.” But he held back. He believed this woman lacked emotional awareness, and he didn’t want to risk rejection, nor lose her as a friend.

“Drip, drip.” At that moment, rain began to fall. Qianyin frowned—so they were about to be drenched. The rain was ill-timed, breaking the mood.

Coldheart glanced at the shabby house, then at his bike, weighing his options. He wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave; either way, they’d be soaked.

“Let’s go, hurry, back to the Mo family!” Qianyin quickly mounted the bike, clutching the whip tightly.

Coldheart nodded, jumped on, and sped off the way they’d come. Raindrops pelted them, as if lamenting the foolishness of their actions.

Qianyin frowned; though the rain wasn’t heavy, its persistent beating left her feeling weak and sore. She clung tightly to Coldheart, who accelerated even more. At this rate, when they returned to the Mo family, both would likely fall gravely ill.

Coldheart headed straight for a nearby hotel, parked the bike, and pulled Qianyin inside.