Chapter 37: Nicknames
The night air was quiet, only the sound of crickets outside drifting into the house. Mo Ying stood before the closed door of Yuen’s room, his hand hovering for a moment before knocking softly.
"Yuen," he called gently. "It’s me."
There was no answer, only silence. Mo Ying sighed and pushed the door open.
Inside, the little boy sat on the edge of his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were red from crying, but he quickly turned away when he saw Mo Ying enter.
Mo Ying didn’t scold him. He simply walked over, sat down beside him, and remained quiet for a long moment. The silence stretched, calm and steady, until finally Yuen whispered, "I don’t want to go to school..."
"I know," Mo Ying said softly. "But tell me, Yuen... do you know there are schools where they teach not just books, but martial arts as well?"
Yuen’s head jerked up, his small eyes wide. "Really? A school like that exists?"
Mo Ying smiled faintly. "Yes. But even in those schools, the students first learn how to read and write the Chinese characters. Because, Yuen... a swordsman who cannot read is blind to wisdom. A warrior who cannot write his own name is easily fooled. Being strong is not only about swinging a sword—it’s about knowing when to strike, when to defend, and when to walk away. Knowledge sharpens your blade more than fire ever can."
Yuen’s lips trembled. He clenched his fists tighter. "But... what if I fail? What if I can’t understand it?"
Mo Ying placed a large, steady hand on his small shoulder. "Then you’ll try again. And if you fall, you’ll stand back up. No warrior was born with a sword in his hand. They learned, little by little, just like you will. And..." his voice softened, "you won’t be alone. I’ll be there with you."
Something in Yuen’s chest loosened. His eyes watered again, but this time, he threw himself into Mo Ying’s arms, hugging him tightly. "I’ll do it, Papa Ying! I’ll study... I’ll learn. But promise me, after that, you’ll teach me sword fighting!"
Mo Ying chuckled, his hand stroking the boy’s hair. "That, I promise."
From the slightly ajar door, Lin Xu had been standing, watching silently. Her heart softened as she saw her son’s fears melt away in Mo Ying’s arms. A smile touched her lips, though her eyes grew misty. Quietly, she turned to leave before they noticed her presence.
But Mo Ying... he had seen her from the start.
---
Later that night, Lin Xu sat in her room, a robe draped over her lap as she worked her needle through the fabric. The soft glow of the oil lamp illuminated her focused face.
The door creaked open without warning.
She startled, the needle slipping in her fingers and pricking her skin. "Ah!"
Before she could even pull her hand back, Mo Ying was already there. He caught her hand swiftly and without hesitation, brought her finger to his lips, placing it into his mouth. His warm tongue pressed against the tiny wound as his dark eyes, glinting with mischief, locked onto hers.
Lin Xu’s breath caught. "Y-you—what are you doing?!" she stammered, her cheeks turning scarlet.
"Stopping the bleeding," Mo Ying said matter-of-factly, though the curve of his lips revealed his teasing intent.
She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it firm, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. "Mo Ying..." she murmured, her voice low, "about earlier with Yuen... was I too harsh on him?"
Mo Ying finally released her finger but didn’t let go of her hand. He shook his head slowly. "No. You’re a mother. You want what’s best for him. That’s not harsh—it’s love." His eyes softened, their usual sharpness melting into warmth. "And Yuen knows it too. He only needed someone to ease his fears."
Lin Xu lowered her gaze, biting her lip. A weight lifted from her heart, yet another one settled—the warmth of his presence, the way he looked at her so steadily, made her pulse race.
Mo Ying smirked knowingly, leaning closer until his breath brushed against her ear. "Besides..." he drawled, "if you feel guilty, you can always make it up to me instead."
Her head snapped up. "W-what does that have to do with anything?!"
He chuckled deeply, his voice a low rumble that made her cheeks burn hotter. "Nothing. I just enjoy seeing you flustered, Miss Feisty."
"You—!" She raised her hand to swat him, but he caught it effortlessly, his larger hand engulfing hers once more.
Lin Xu frowned, tugging at her hand, but he didn’t let go. "Fireball, Miss Feisty, Miss Stubborn... what’s with all these nicknames?" she asked, glaring at him.
Mo Ying’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, rich and unhurried. "Because none of them alone can capture you." His eyes glimmered with amusement as he leaned back slightly, still holding her hand. "You’re fierce, stubborn, hot-tempered... but you’re also gentle, soft-hearted, and far too easy to make blush."
Her cheeks burned. "I-I do not blush easily!"
"Mm," he drawled, lips twitching. "So this color on your face right now is because of the oil lamp, not me?"
Lin Xu gasped and yanked her hand free at last, turning her head away to hide her embarrassment. "You’re insufferable."
Mo Ying’s smile only deepened as he watched her sew again, her hands slightly shaky under his gaze. The silence between them stretched, but it was warm now, filled with something unspoken.
After a moment, he said quietly, "I meant what I said earlier. You weren’t harsh on Yuen. You’re guiding him. And he needs that."
Lin Xu’s sewing paused. She looked down at the robe in her lap, her fingers tightening on the fabric. "Sometimes... I wonder if I’m doing enough for them. For Bao Bao, Yuen, Yiling. They’ve lost so much already. I don’t want them to think I’m pushing them too hard."
Mo Ying moved closer, his voice steady and low. "Lin Xu... you’ve done more than anyone else could. You’ve given them a home, love, safety. Don’t doubt yourself. The children know who their pillar is. It’s you."
When she didn’t answer, Mo Ying leaned closer again, his voice deliberately teasing to lighten her mood. "But if you’re still unsure, I’ll volunteer myself as their second pillar. Though I doubt anyone can compete with their ’Miss Feisty Mama.’"
Lin Xu shot him a look, her lips twitching despite herself. "You never stop talking, do you?"
"Not when you’re this fun to tease." He grinned, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Besides, if I stay quiet, who will make you laugh when you’re too busy frowning at the world?"
Realizing her heart was racing, she quickly lowered her gaze back to the robe. "Go... go rest already. I have sewing to finish."
Mo Ying chuckled, rising to his feet slowly. But before leaving, he bent slightly, his breath brushing against her ear once more.
"Don’t prick yourself again, Miss Feisty. I can’t keep saving your fingers forever."
And with that, he went straight to the bed and slept off.
Leaving Lin Xu to still dwell on his words. ’Could he really be trustworthy?’