117: Green scales are cute

Outside the window, the desert night wind whimpered as it swept through Stone Desert City, kicking up yellow sand that filled the sky and emitting a ghost-like howl.

A sudden, unprecedented sandstorm was rapidly forming, like a giant yellow curtain, sweeping towards Stone Desert City.

The strong wind, carrying sand particles, violently beat against the sturdy stone houses of the Desert Iron Mercenary Group, producing dense, muffled crackling sounds, like countless sand-composed whips lashing the earth.

The window frames groaned in the gale, as if they would be torn apart the next moment. The World was a murky yellow, visibility plummeted, and even the nearby courtyard wall became blurry.

The air was thick with the smell of damp earth, and every breath brought the gritty sensation of sand rubbing against the throat.

"Damn it! It's a sandstorm, the biggest one this year!"

Inside the council hall, Xiao Ding looked at the dark, chaotic scene outside the window, his expression as solemn as water.

Sandstorms are one of the most terrifying disasters in the Tagor Desert; the violent sand can bury small Oasis and tear apart any exposed life.

"A sandstorm of this scale will rage for at least three to five days, Yu Han, Instructor Ruo Lin, it seems you two won't be able to depart for a while."

Mo Yuhan's brows furrowed slightly as he looked at the apocalyptic scene outside the window, feeling a bit anxious.

Time was precious, yet it was blocked by a natural disaster.

But he also knew that forcing their way into the desert in such weather would be tantamount to suicide.

He nodded: "It can only be so. I've troubled you, Elder Brother Xiao Ding."

"Yu Han, what are you saying!"

Xiao Li laughed; he actually hoped Mo Yuhan would stay longer, partly to repay a debt of gratitude, and partly to strengthen their relationship.

Xiao Ding arranged for people to reinforce guards everywhere, closing doors and windows tightly to resist the wind and sand. Mo Yuhan and Instructor Ruo Lin also returned to their respective guest rooms.

The howling of the wind and sand was largely blocked by the thick stone walls, but the dull, shaking sensation, as if the entire World was trembling, was still clearly audible.

Knock, knock, knock.

A light knock sounded again, so faint it was almost drowned out by the sound of the wind and sand.

Mo Yuhan opened the door.

Outside the door, Qing Lin's small figure was wrapped in a slightly oversized old cloak, its hood blown tightly against her head, revealing only a small portion of her delicate face.

She held a meticulously oil-paper-wrapped food box tightly in her arms, her emerald green eyes appearing exceptionally bright in the dim light, carrying a hint of apprehension and persistence.

"Young Master Yu Han... the sandstorm has come... Qing Lin... Qing Lin brought you something to eat. It's... it's sea buckthorn cakes Qing Lin made herself... and hot soup..."

Her voice was torn by the wind, intermittent, yet she tried hard to speak clearly.

Mo Yuhan's heart warmed, and he quickly stepped aside to let her in: "Come in quickly, it's windy outside."

Qing Lin slipped inside and quickly closed the door, shutting out the howling wind outside.

She took off her cloak hood, revealing slightly disheveled dark hair, her small face a bit red from the wind.

She placed the food box on the table and carefully unwrapped the oil paper, revealing several golden-brown, exquisitely small cakes adorned with red sea buckthorn berries, and a small clay pot containing steaming, milky-white fish soup, its aroma wafting through the air.

"Qing Lin didn't know what Young Master liked to eat... so... so I made some common desert foods..."

She lowered her head, her fingers nervously twisting the corner of her clothes, like a student waiting for a teacher to grade their homework.

Mo Yuhan looked at the pastries and soup, clearly made with much thought, and felt touched.

He picked up a sea buckthorn cake and took a bite; it was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, with a perfect balance of sweet and sour, and the unique fresh scent of sea buckthorn—very delicious.

He then scooped a spoon of fish soup; the broth was rich and mellow, the fish tender, clearly simmered for a long time.

"It's delicious."

Mo Yuhan praised sincerely, a warm smile on his face, "Qing Lin's cooking is truly excellent, even better than my aunt's."

Not just good, Bibi Dong couldn't cook at all.

Qing Lin suddenly looked up, her emerald green eyes instantly bursting with incredible brilliance, her small face flushed with a faint blush from excitement, like a fragile flower blooming in the desert.

"Re...really? As long as Young Master likes it!"

She smiled happily, her smile pure and unadulterated, dispelling the long-standing gloom that usually clouded her brows.

This was the first time she had heard such direct and sincere praise.

Over the next few days, the sandstorm, like an enraged beast, raged wildly outside Stone Desert City, showing no signs of stopping.

The roar of the wind and sand became the only background sound.

Qing Lin seemed to have found a mission and solace, appearing punctually every day to attend to Mo Yuhan's daily needs.

In the morning, she would bring warm clear water and green salt.

In the afternoon, she would bring handmade herbal tea, brewed with the fresh scent of desert plants, to dispel the heat in the room.

In the evening, she would prepare a variety of delicious desert-specialty foods, such as roasted sand lizard meat and sweet, glutinous jujube cakes...

She always kept her head down, her movements gentle to the point of being humble, but her meticulous care, like a trickling stream, silently moisturized Mo Yuhan's heart, which was anxious from waiting.

Mo Yuhan was not idle either.

He spent most of his time meditating and cultivating in his room, consolidating his five-star Dou Master realm and pondering the changes of the Flowing Wind Sword in a desert environment.

Occasionally, he would chat with Qing Lin, asking about local customs in the desert, avoiding any topics that might touch upon her sensitive background.

He discovered that although Qing Lin was timid and cowardly, she was meticulous and had an almost instinctive keen perception of desert plants, weather, and even water sources.

He did recall that in the original novel, Qing Lin had once taken Xiao Yan to find the Azure Lotus Core Flame outside Stone Desert City, although Queen Medusa had gotten there first.

One afternoon, Mo Yuhan finished his cultivation, fine beads of sweat seeping from his forehead.

Qing Lin immediately came forward with a warm cloth, carefully wiping him.

"Young Master, wipe your sweat..." Her voice was still very soft.

Mo Yuhan closed his eyes, feeling the gentle touch of the cloth. Suddenly, he felt Qing Lin's movements pause slightly, as if she was hesitant.

He opened his eyes and saw Qing Lin's gaze fall on the few strands of his black hair, which were scattered behind his shoulders and slightly matted with sweat. A subtle trace of longing and timidity flashed in her emerald eyes.

"What's wrong?" Mo Yuhan asked gently.

Qing Lin recoiled her hand as if startled, her small face instantly flushed, and she lowered her head, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "No... nothing... Young Master's hair... is a bit messy. Qing Lin... Qing Lin can... can I help Young Master comb it?"

After saying this, she seemed to have used all her courage, tightly closing her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling violently, waiting to be refused or even reprimanded.

Mo Yuhan was slightly taken aback, looking at the girl's tense, almost sacrificial demeanor. He understood, found it amusing, and also felt a pang of sadness.

He relaxed his body, sat with his back to Qing Lin, and said gently: "Okay, thank you, Qing Lin."

Qing Lin suddenly opened her eyes, immense surprise bursting forth, as if she had received a great blessing.

She quickly took out a small, fine-toothed wooden comb from her embrace—it was her own old comb, which she had cleaned spotlessly.

She walked behind Mo Yuhan, her movements incredibly gentle, as if she were touching a rare treasure.

Cool fingers, with a slight scaly texture, carefully passed through Mo Yuhan's soft black hair.

Her movements were clumsy but earnest, holding her breath with each stroke, afraid of hurting him.

Her fingertips would occasionally brush against Mo Yuhan's nape, bringing a slightly itchy, peculiar sensation.

Mo Yuhan could clearly feel the girl's nervousness behind him and her careful preciousness.

Her breath gently brushed his ear, carrying the unique fragrance of a young girl.

An inexpressible, peaceful, and warm atmosphere permeated the small room, temporarily isolating the violent wind and sand outside the window.

Qing Lin combed very slowly, very focused.

Her emerald green eyes reflected the ink-black strands of hair flowing through her fingers, like fine silk.

A never-before-felt sense of peace and satisfaction filled her heart.

This was the first time she had been so intimately close to someone who showed no disgust towards her, only gentle acceptance.

Mo Yuhan closed his eyes, enjoying the comfortable sensation of his hair being gently combed.

The cool, scaly touch of Qing Lin's fingertips, and the faint, fresh scent emanating from her, like desert plants after rain, blended with the whimpering of the wind and sand outside the window, forming a strange, reassuring tranquility.

His tense nerves, under this meticulous care, unknowingly relaxed a great deal.