Chapter 81: If I Can, Let Me Help You!

“Crescent, what’s wrong? Are you jealous of me? That can’t be! I’m just a ne’er-do-well, the scum of Tianhuo, infamous as both a rake and a cockroach, befriending rats. If you want to become like me, you’d have to work pretty hard at it!” Hu Mo put on an exaggerated expression, which finally made Crescent laugh.

“Brother Hu, I’m not joking with you!” Crescent’s face grew suddenly serious, her large eyes fixed intently on Hu Mo. Her earnest look made Hu Mo want to burst out laughing even more.

Hu Mo suppressed his amusement and took a gentle sip of wine. “I believe you, but you’ll have to tell me why. I’m terribly curious by nature; I can’t stand hearing only half a story.”

Crescent nodded softly and leaned back on the fur-covered chair, still wearing a faintly sorrowful expression.

“Brother Hu, what do you think of the identity of a princess?” she asked suddenly, her eyes unblinking as she watched him.

Hu Mo was taken aback, silent for a moment. “Being a princess is an exalted status. Many would give anything for it. You can have whatever you want, do whatever you please—what’s not to like? Especially for someone like you, Crescent, cherished by all—you must be very happy.”

He hadn’t finished speaking when Crescent was already shaking her head, her lips lifting into a slight, bitter smile.

“Brother Hu, I knew you’d say that. That’s what everyone thinks—that being a princess is bliss. But you don’t understand. What a princess truly desires isn’t fine food, lavish clothes, or a splendid home. She longs for freedom, for love. And those are not so easily gained.” Her voice grew even more wistful, as if memories too heavy to bear had been stirred.

“Don’t think that way, Crescent. Nothing in this world is absolute. You yourself said those things aren’t easy to get, but that doesn’t mean they’re out of reach. You’re clever, gentle, and considerate—how could you not find real love? His Majesty dotes on you so much; why wouldn’t he grant you freedom? Perhaps you’re just overthinking things.” Hu Mo tried to comfort her, a trace of both pity and concern welling up inside him.

Crescent shook her head gently, her eyes shining with a soft light. She picked up a cup of wine and drained it in one gulp, a flush blooming across her cheeks.

Hu Mo wanted to stop her, but his outstretched hand faltered and slowly withdrew. Crescent noticed, smiled faintly, and said, “Brother Hu, let me have a drink. Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll have the courage to go on.”

She poured herself another cup, emptied it, and reached for a third.

“Crescent, no more!” Hu Mo seized her small hand, his voice stern. The softness of her skin made his heart tremble with a sudden, inexplicable pang.

Crescent froze for a moment, then slowly loosened her hold on the wine jug, her hand slipping from his grasp. She sank into the fur chair, already visibly drunk after only two cups.

“My mother passed away when I was three,” she said suddenly, her voice dazed. “I can’t even remember what she looked like. I only recall that she didn’t like me much, because I was a girl and hadn’t brought her more fortune.”

Hu Mo’s expression shifted, but he soon composed himself. Even among commoners, sons were favored over daughters—how much more so in an imperial family? A mother’s status depended on having a son; only with a son could she truly stand firm in the palace. Such had been the iron law for millennia.

“Afterward, she died of illness, and my father handed me over to Nanny Lan, who is Lady Xinluo’s mother. She treated me well—far better than my own mother did. But I never felt any real affection. Even with my father, I felt more like I was being used than loved as a daughter.”

“What? Crescent, you mean His Majesty doesn’t love you?” Hu Mo exclaimed in surprise. This contradicted everything he’d heard—wasn’t Emperor Zhu Yan always said to be especially fond of his youngest daughter?

“That’s only what people think. Perhaps I should believe he’s indulgent—giving me everything I want, letting me leave the palace to cause trouble, forgiving my every mistake. Such a father would make many envy me. But, Brother Hu, if all this is built on interests and schemes, do you still think it’s happiness?” Her voice quavered, tears glimmering in her eyes. Hu Mo felt the sting in his heart sharpen.

“Few know that the most important freedom of my life has already been taken away. When I was ten, my father secretly betrothed me to the Crown Prince of the Sacred Tree Empire. This will be announced to the world when I turn eighteen. I am nothing more than a piece on his chessboard—a political token.” Tears streamed down Crescent’s face as she curled up in the fur chair, letting them soak into the pelt beneath her.

Hu Mo’s heart jolted. He instinctively took her hand, clumsy and at a loss, unsure how to wipe away her tears.

Crescent, however, was direct. She grabbed Hu Mo’s sleeve and used it to wipe her face, leaving traces of tears and snot on his clothes. Clinging to his sleeve as if it were a lifeline, her posture drew curious glances from many around them.

From a distance, Situ Feng watched them, his heart slowly growing uneasy. The closeness between Hu Mo and Crescent worried him, and that was not good news for him. But what unsettled him more was Cang Ling. He was grateful to have attended this gathering, or he might never have noticed so many things before.

“Don’t cry, Crescent. You’ll ruin your looks.” Hu Mo smiled, patting her back gently. Yet to onlookers, it seemed as though he was caressing the princess, an act that stunned many men and women alike—who would dare be so bold as to flirt with a princess at a noblewomen’s gathering?

Crescent burst out laughing, scrambling up from Hu Mo’s side. Her carefully arranged hair was now disheveled, her face streaked like a little tabby cat.

Hu Mo watched her, a meaningful smile on his face. Crescent quickly realized what she must look like. “Is my makeup ruined? I knew it—haven’t cried in so long, I forgot I’d end up looking like a painted cat.”

She anxiously patted her face, smearing her rouge further until she resembled a kitten even more.

Hu Mo’s heart ached. That simple phrase—“I haven’t cried in so long”—made him realize how strong this girl was. No matter what hardships she faced, she always swallowed her pain, and yet she’d cried in front of him today.

“All right, stop wiping—you're only making it worse,” Hu Mo said with a smile, earning an exasperated glare from Crescent.

She drew out a handkerchief, dampened it with wine, and wiped all the rouge from her face. Soon, the cloth was stained bright red.

Hu Mo looked at her, now bare-faced, and couldn’t help but marvel. “Crescent, you’re even more beautiful without makeup. I swear.”

She blinked in surprise, staring at him blankly. “Really? I never used to wear makeup, but my sisters said I looked plain without it and insisted on painting me up.”

As she spoke, she wiped away the last traces of color, revealing flawless skin. Truly, a beauty needs no embellishment—makeup or not, she was stunning all the same.

Thanks to Hu Mo’s teasing, Crescent’s sadness gradually faded. She relaxed in her chair, smiling. “It feels much better to say it all out and have a good cry. Thank you, Brother Hu, for letting me ramble on beside you.”

Hu Mo’s expression grew solemn. “Crescent, am I a stranger to you? Friends should share their hearts—there’s no need for thanks.”

Crescent giggled, squeezing his hand tightly, reluctant to let go. After a while, she sighed, so softly that her words were barely audible. “But, Brother Hu, would you really help me? I don’t want to spend my life this way…”

Hu Mo’s body tensed, gripping her hand. He didn’t know what trouble he might invite, but he only knew he couldn’t let this girl suffer any longer.

Hu Mo himself had never known a mother’s love—an orphan in all three of his lives. He understood the pain of being motherless. In his previous two lives, born lowly, his fate was always in others’ hands, making him cherish freedom all the more.

Now, faced with this unfortunate girl’s earnest plea, how could he refuse?

Yet, he hesitated—how could he help her? By marrying her? Or something else? For a moment, Hu Mo was utterly at a loss.

Crescent waited for his answer, her eyes fixed hopefully on him, filled with both anxious longing and fear.

Hu Mo remained silent, brow furrowed. The longer he hesitated, the more Crescent’s heart chilled, as if she were sinking into an ice-cold abyss.

“Never mind, Brother Hu. Forget I said anything…” Crescent murmured, trying to pull her hand from his.

Just then, Hu Mo tightened his grip, gazing at her intently. “Crescent, if it’s possible, I’ll help you!”

Seeing the earnestness in his eyes, Crescent suddenly giggled, scratching his palm as she withdrew her hand.

“How will you help me? Marry me?” she teased, her playful tone making Hu Mo blush with embarrassment.

“Well… I could help you find a good man. Huang Sheng, for example, is quite handsome and—”

“Go to hell!” Crescent smacked him, and Hu Mo let out a long, mournful wail.