At dawn, sunlight poured through the cracks in the rock walls. Gu Qing remained in the same position as the night before, one arm around Milton’s waist, the other resting on his shoulder. The coat covered them both, preserving the last warmth of the night.
He appeared to be sleeping, but his breathing was steady and strong—he had never truly closed his eyes, merely silently watching over Milton all night.
He quietly felt the heartbeat of the insect in his arms. As the night receded, that heartbeat gradually settled from chaos to calm, until now it paused briefly.
Milton woke.
His steady breathing faltered for half a second before turning rapid. His eyelashes fluttered, blinking in confusion—and in the next instant,
he suddenly realized that he was still curled up in Gu Qing’s arms, both hands clutching the edge of his coat.
Time seemed to freeze. Milton felt his cheeks burn, heart hammering as if it might leap from his chest. His thoughts scattered—this closeness, being enveloped like this, went far beyond what he usually tolerated.
He froze, even forgetting to breathe, his violet eyes wide and round. Then—
“…!!!” His face turned the deep, ripe red of an apple, almost steaming.
He tried to pull away silently, but Gu Qing’s steady hands held him firmly at the waist.
“Awake?” Gu Qing’s voice was soft, low, lips curving in a faint, teasing smile.
Milton felt like he might explode. He tried to act composed, but his eyes wandered uncontrollably, ears burning like fire:
“Y-you… why didn’t you wake me? I-I… I’m pressing against you…”
“You were sleeping soundly,” Gu Qing murmured, his hand still resting on Milton’s waist, not in a hurry to pull away. That gentleness, like winter sunlight on the shoulder, sent Milton’s mind into chaos.
“…I-I shouldn’t be like this, I—” Milton stammered, attempting to lift himself, but slipped slightly, tumbling back into Gu Qing’s embrace like a flustered, puffed-up cat.
Gu Qing’s eyes flickered with amusement as he finally withdrew his hand. Seeing Milton like this was a rare sight; he murmured softly:
“Your face is red.”
Milton: “!!!”
He flushed even more, trying to protest: “I-I’m not!”
His attempt to hide his embarrassment only made him appear more adorable, more vulnerable.
Gu Qing tilted his head, gaze calm yet teasing:
“Hm? Did I see that wrong?”
Milton felt as if he might explode on the spot, turning away, voice barely a whisper:
“…You’re too much.”
The voice was so faint it could have drifted into the wind, yet carried a strange mix of guilt and stubbornness.
Gu Qing stood leisurely, shaking off his coat, tone carrying a mischievous edge:
“It’s late. I’ll go get some food.”
With that, he left the cave, leaving only the morning light and a nearly combusted general behind.
Milton sat dumbfounded, ears still burning. He looked down at his hands, fingers still curled, clutching the coat edge almost reflexively.
…So embarrassing. S-so embarrassing!
His heart was flustered and uneasy, yet deep inside, a tiny flicker of thrill and sweetness quietly arose—a tremor like the softest ray of morning light, comforting his lonely soul and whispering that perhaps this warmth was the redemption he had longed for but never dared touch.
Soon, Gu Qing returned with his catch, carrying the fresh scent of the forest. He moved with practiced ease: lighting the fire, roasting the meat, preparing soup and stir-fry. The firelight softened his sharp features, painting them with gentle warmth.
Milton walked over, feigning composure, voice deliberately cold:
“…Need help?”
Gu Qing glanced up, lips curling in a subtle smile:
“No need. Sit and rest.”
Milton reluctantly seated himself by the fire. Outwardly calm, his heart churned. His gaze kept drifting to Gu Qing—the long fingers, the focused expression… every detail recalled the shame of last night, setting his cheeks aflame.
Suddenly, a pair of chopsticks extended toward him.
Gu Qing picked up a piece of roasted meat and brought it to Milton’s lips, voice soft yet playful:
“Try it. How is it?”
Milton blinked, opening his mouth instinctively. The warmth and aroma hit instantly, but his face only burned hotter.
“Do you like it?” Gu Qing asked gently.
Milton’s gaze fell, cheeks blazing, nodding slightly.
Gu Qing smiled faintly, teasing:
“Seems the General enjoys being fed by me.”
Milton’s entire body stiffened, ears crimson, stammering:
“I… I like… just the meat!”
Gu Qing chuckled silently, then moved to sit beside him, close enough that their warmth mingled. In that instant, Milton felt Gu Qing’s lips might be dangerously near, chest tightening. Anxiety and anticipation surged, yet he denied it frantically: No, I can’t… I can’t hope for him to actually kiss me.
Firelight reflected on their faces. Gu Qing’s gaze was deep and teasing as he murmured:
“General… you only like the meat?”
Milton’s mind went blank, face burning furiously, breath ragged, tongue tied. Fingers clenched the coat edge, body inching closer despite himself.
Gu Qing’s fingers moved slightly, observing Milton’s flustered, embarrassed expression with a deeper smile, before turning back to stir the soup.
“The soup’s nearly ready,” he said lightly, voice calm, as if nothing had happened.
Milton exhaled, relieved—he had feared a kiss, yet it was just a retreat to cook. But the subtle disappointment that followed was undeniable.
He shook his head, internally scolding:
“What am I even thinking…”
Fingers still clutching the coat, he tried to focus on the aroma of the soup, yet could not ignore Gu Qing’s handsome profile. The firelight flickered across his features, defining every stable, striking line.
His heart continued to flutter, impossible to suppress. He pretended calm, yet the turmoil inside refused to settle.
Soon, the soup was ready. Gu Qing ladled a bowl and handed it over.
Milton reached out; their fingers brushed, a jolt like electricity running through him. Heart clenching, he instinctively withdrew—and the bowl toppled, hot soup spilling onto his right leg.
“Ah!” Milton’s face went crimson. He scrambled to wipe it, whispering:
“It’s… it’s nothing… this isn’t a big deal for a military insect; it’ll heal quickly.”
Gu Qing’s expression changed drastically. He immediately knelt beside him:
“But… it still hurts. Let me see, okay?”
Milton shook his head frantically, ears red, whispering:
“N-no… it’s nothing.”
Gu Qing frowned slightly, dark eyes serious:
“My apologies.” With that, he tore open Milton’s right pant leg, revealing the scorched skin. Milton froze, heart pounding, clutching his coat, unable to resist.
Gu Qing’s gaze softened with concern as he lowered his hand. Golden warmth emanated from his fingertips, spreading over Milton’s thigh. Pain ebbed with the heat, and Milton’s entire body flushed, heart racing, breath trembling—not just from the burn, but from Gu Qing’s presence, warmth, and attentive care.
Gu Qing examined every inch carefully, eyes gentle and serious.
Milton’s mind spun: it was just a burn, yet every cell felt touched by Gu Qing’s attention. Cheeks hotter, ears nearly smoking, thoughts scattered yet unable to look away. The gentle touch seemed to caress straight into his heart, leaving him embarrassed, tense, and racing all at once.
Soon, the treatment ended. Gu Qing withdrew his hand, gaze still tender and focused. He murmured:
“Be careful next time. Don’t get hurt again.”
Milton, cheeks flushed, nodded slightly, curling his legs, warmth and shyness quietly blooming inside him.
By the firelight, Gu Qing brought the cooked food to the stone slab, steam rising. Milton watched him stir the roasting meat, heart fluttering. They ate slowly, the atmosphere calm and warm, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the fire and faint rustling of wind.
Once the dishes were cleared and the fire extinguished, Gu Qing’s gaze fell on Milton—his torn pants no longer concealing the pale thigh.
He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed:
“General, do you have extra clothes to change into?”
Milton’s face instantly turned crimson. He hurriedly nodded:
“Y-yes.”
Gu Qing exhaled slightly, smiling faintly, voice calm yet concerned:
“Good. I’ll step outside for a bit. Change your pants first.” Then he left the cave.
Milton froze a moment, then carefully retrieved his clothing, palms slightly sweaty, heartbeat like a drum.
After changing, he cautiously stepped out—only to find Gu Qing gone. His chest tightened slightly as he scanned the cave mouth—no sign of him, only the faint sound of water in the distance.
Following the sound, Milton reached a hot spring and froze—the sight rooting him to the spot, caught between embarrassment and excitement.
Gu Qing stood in the water, the surface rippling gently. Tall, broad, and sculpted, his skin gleamed warmly under the sun.
“How long do you intend to stand there?” Gu Qing asked coolly, water sliding down his collarbone, voice playful yet warm.
Milton paused, cheeks heating, gaze dropping, breath quickening. He turned nervously:
“I-I was just—”
“Just wanted to watch me bathe?”
“…!”
Milton turned his back, yet the sound of splashing water behind him made his heart race. Face flushed, biting his lip, he whispered:
“I wasn’t… on purpose.”
Gu Qing stood leisurely, towel drying his hair, approaching from behind, voice teasing:
“But you stood there so long, it didn’t seem accidental. And… you’ve seen before, haven’t you?”
Milton’s ears burned, spine stiffening, voice tight and stammering:
“I haven’t—”
Gu Qing’s presence drew near, a faint warmth brushing his shoulder, the scent of water teasing him, making his limbs tremble and heart skip a beat.
Gu Qing looked down at him, dark eyes deep, teasing yet sincere.
The little being in Milton’s mind laughed wildly:
“Oh my! Sword Lord is naughty! Teasing the pretty insect so well—heeheehee!”
Milton whispered sharply, cheeks warming, voice quivering:
“Y-you… put on clothes.”
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting mottled shadows. Gu Qing chuckled:
“Yes, General.” His tone was respectful, lips betraying a sly smile.
Soon, they set off back to the cave, one after the other. Milton pressed his lips together, back to Gu Qing, still aware of the gaze behind him.
Gu Qing followed leisurely, glancing at those crimson ears, chuckling softly.
“What are you laughing at?” Milton couldn’t help but look back, voice cold as frost, fingers trembling slightly, feigning anger:
“You… are you idle?”
“Nothing,” Gu Qing smiled innocently, “just noticing your color—your ears are quite pretty red.”
Milton bit his lip, heart skipping, tone still cold, yet inside flustered:
“D-don’t… get cocky.”
“Cocky?” Gu Qing stopped, raising a brow, tone indifferent yet playful in the eyes:
“I’m just reminding you to be careful.”
“Reminding?”
“Your mental sea isn’t fully stable. If you react again, I’ll have to treat you once more.” His voice calm, as if discussing business.
Milton’s brow twitched, trying to remain composed, yet heart trembling involuntarily:
“Y-you… don’t… go too far!”
With that, he spun and walked briskly, body tense as a drawn bow, yet still felt Gu Qing’s gaze following.
In his mind, the little being collapsed in laughter:
“Ahahaha! Exploded! The General’s ears are red as a cooked shrimp today!”
Gu Qing remained silent for a moment, then slowly smiled.
Milton hurried on, trying to calm himself, yet could not resist being drawn—this insect, composed and unhurried, could stir his emotions with just a glance or a word.
He wanted to be near the one who had caught him in his most helpless moment, shielding him from wind and cold. He had feared sinking too deep before, afraid that once touched there would be no retreat.
But this time… he didn’t want to run anymore.