Till The End Of The Moon [SEASON- 2]

18. A truth.

IN MIANG TAO'S HOUSE — NIGHT

The night deepened, folding the house in silence. A soft amber light flickered from a corner lantern, casting long shadows that danced across the wooden floor. The meal had been quiet, almost peaceful. Now, the three of them—Miang Tao, Tantai Jiang, and Li Susu—sat together on the bed.

Jiang nestled between them, smiling easily, her small hands resting in her lap. She giggled at Miang Tao’s playful questions, his voice a balm of warmth and kindness. But beside them, Li Susu sat still and distant, her silence woven with tension. Again and again, her hand drifted to her temple, fingers pressing gently as though trying to hold herself together.

Miang Tao noticed. He had noticed from the beginning. Her pallor, the glimmer of pain in her eyes, the sheen of sweat that clung to her brow—none of it escaped him. But he said nothing. What could he say?

Even now, when she sat this close, her shoulder nearly touching his, the space between them felt endless. And he had no right to cross it.

So, instead, he turned to Jiang with a soft smile.
“Jiang... you must have some friends, right? Tell me—how many friends do you have?”

The girl blinked, her smile fading as she grew quiet. Li Susu looked on, her expression unreadable, her eyes slightly glazed. Perhaps it was the fever already blooming beneath her skin. Perhaps it was something more.

Miang Tao’s heart stilled as he watched the little girl hesitate.

“What happened, baby?” he asked, gently. “Say something.”

Then came her reply, with a smile that tugged at something deep inside him.

“No, Uncle,” she said simply, “I don’t have any friends. I have only one.”

His brows lifted in mild surprise.
“Just one? Why, cutie? And who is that friend of yours?”

Jiang’s answer came with childlike honesty.
“My friend is Mumma. She said only she has the right to be my best friend. That’s why I don’t need anyone else.”

Miang Tao couldn’t respond. The words sat like a stone in his throat. He could only nod and let out a quiet chuckle, though his smile faltered. He looked at Li Susu again.

And in the next breath, she collapsed.

Her body gave out without warning, folding forward, then sideways onto the bed. The moment shattered the calm. Miang Tao reacted instantly, catching her before she could strike the mattress too hard. He pulled her upright, cradling her head, trying to wake her.

Her skin was blazing.

And the moment his hand met her cheek, he knew. The herbs. The ancient blend he had prepared for her—meant to draw the poison out through fever—had begun to take effect.

It was working.

But the knowledge did nothing to calm the storm in his chest.

He laid her down gently, careful to adjust the blanket around her, and turned to Jiang. The girl was already at her mother’s side, watching with wide, tear-filled eyes. She looked up at him, lips trembling, her gaze silently screaming: What’s happening to my Mumma?

Miang Tao knelt beside her, opened his arms, and Jiang collapsed into his chest. Only then did she begin to cry.

He wiped her tears with trembling fingers.

“Baby,” he whispered, “nothing’s happened to your mother. Remember, I told you? She had a headache, and now she’s asleep, that’s all. She’s okay. Everything’s okay. And it’s very late now. Go sleep beside her, alright?”

Jiang nodded slowly. “Okay… good night, Uncle.”

She curled beside Li Susu, and he tucked her in with care. But when he turned back to the woman on the bed, something inside him broke. He reached for her forehead again. The heat radiating from her skin was relentless.

He stood and left the room briefly, returning with a small tray. On it: a bowl of cold water and folded napkins. He placed it on the stool beside the bed, then sat, finally, at her side.

And in the silence that followed, the walls he had built inside himself began to crack.

His hand trembled as he dipped a cloth into the water and pressed it to her forehead. A single tear escaped his eye, falling onto her cheek, and still she did not stir.

To the world, Miang Tao was just a kind man. A quiet healer. A friend. A stranger reborn into a peaceful life.

But they didn’t know the truth.

They didn’t know he had once sacrificed everything—his body, his name, his soul—for a world that would never remember him.

And he had died thinking he would never see her again.

But fate had other plans. And here she was. So close, yet unreachable.

He had watched her from afar for days. And the first time he laid eyes on Jiang, something inside him had shifted—because he had known. In his bones, in his spirit. That child was his. The daughter born from a love that had once been written in starlight and torn apart by war.

And then he had seen her mother again.

Li Susu.

The woman who had loved him once.

The woman who had buried him.

But he did.

He remembered everything. Every word, every promise, every broken dream.

Yet still, he said nothing.

Because he was afraid.

Afraid of what it would mean. Afraid of the weight his truth would place upon her. Afraid that he had returned too late, and that their story had truly ended in that other lifetime.

He stared at her pale face, at the sweat collecting on her brow, and gently brushed back a damp strand of hair. Then, without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

His lips trembled.

And then, for the first time in years, his smile returned. It was faint. Sad. But real.

He cradled her head in his lap and continued applying the cold compresses. He didn’t care that the night stretched on or that his body ached from exhaustion. Her fever had to break.

Because this time, he would not lose her.

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Chapter ended.
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Peace! Love you all.