Chapter 1310: What Does Freedom Look Like

The day had entered late autumn, and the mist in the mountains was gradually thickening. Within that hazy mist, a tall figure swiftly zigzagged through, stepping with great familiarity.

Mo Si Huang stepped into the little courtyard where he had lived for ten years, seeing dimly lit lanterns in the main hall, where a man sat at a wooden table, staring thoughtfully at a chessboard.

"Master, I’m back." Mo Si Huang casually put down the bag he brought back, calling out to Mo Yu who was playing chess.

Mo Yu didn’t look up, his tone as calm as usual, "Why did you suddenly come back? Sit down and finish this game of chess with me?"

Obediently, Mo Si Huang sat down, picking up the black chess pieces from the box, pondering his next move while replying, "I came back to check on my master. Is everything well with you lately?"

"Your uncle and Su Li are well, so I am well." Mo Yu spoke while placing a piece on the board.

Mo Si Huang’s thin lips slightly pressed down, some words stuck in his throat, unable to be spoken.

This master of his, has his life only ever included Sheng Lanqing and Su Li? Has it never included himself?

Why... must he always put others at the forefront of his heart?

Soon after, Mo Yu conceded defeat, a smile appearing on his usually elegant face, "Your chess skill is getting even better."

Since Mo Yu took him in from the orphanage, this master had taught him everything he knew. The movie star admired for his mastery of Music, Chess, Calligraphy, and Painting was trained by Mo Yu.

Mo Si Huang looked at Mo Yu for a long moment, then fell silent for a while before saying, "Master, the first time I defied you was... by joining the entertainment industry."

Mo Yu looked at Mo Si Huang, seemingly puzzled by why he suddenly brought up this matter.

Mo Si Huang had grown up in the orphanage, which instead of dampening his spirit, had imparted onto him an indelible air of resistance.

Mo Yu stood up, resignedly saying, "It is not wrong to rebel once in life, as long as you do not regret your time in the entertainment industry."

As long as there is no regret.

Mo Si Huang lowered his eyes, black as gemstones, emotions swirling within them like raging rivers, dark currents rising, growing in waves.

"Xu Xing said he would return, but hasn’t arrived yet. It’s getting late, retire to your room and rest for now."

Mo Si Huang nodded, turning away and leaving the hall.

Their master had always lived in Cloud Mist Mountain, venturing down the mountain but a few times in the past twenty years. Although it was just a small courtyard, there were many rooms.

Mo Si Huang traversed the wooden corridor, hearing the gentle creaking sounds made by his footsteps on the boards.

Though the red wooden door in front of him was closed, it was not locked. Mo Si Huang gently pushed the door and entered without turning on the light.

His dark eyes swept over the rows of drawers filled with herbs like a radar, quick and precise.

Suddenly, his gaze halted, staring directly at a nondescript drawer in the corner, with a small note affixed to the top left corner bearing the words "Winter Love Grass."

Mo Si Huang opened the drawer, taking out the Winter Love Grass.

Due to careful preservation, the herb had been dried upon acquisition, feeling extremely dry in his hand.

If it were to be used, it needed to be soaked in clean water for a day.

The cold moonlight shone through the window outside, casting its glow onto Mo Si Huang’s face, making it appear even colder, devoid of any warmth.

He, too, wished to know what it felt like to hold the wind in his hand, what form freedom would take.