Rain had fallen that night — gentle, misty, and cold. The kind of rain that settled on the petals of lilies without disturbing their bloom. The Azure Sky Cloud Sect's mountain halls were quiet under the night, lit by moonlight and the occasional flickering lantern.
In the healing ward, the Qi bath steamed faintly.
Lan Wu lay submerged from the neck down in a wide jade pool carved with cloud sigils, pale spiritual water glowing faintly blue as it worked through his meridians. His chest rose and fell slowly, lips parted slightly in sleep, purple strands plastered to his cheek.
His skin was pale, marked with faint bruises and healing cuts. But he was alive.
Mei Lian stood just outside the healing circle, arms folded within her sleeves, watching him quietly.
She hadn't changed from her traveling robes. Her hair, slightly damp from the mountain mist, clung to her temple. Yet even soaked, she still looked sharp—stern, distant, unreachable.
And yet she hadn't taken her eyes off the boy.
---
She remembered finding him, crumpled on the forest floor, half-dead. The Three-Headed Thunderhand Tiger—one of the forest's elemental kings—was dead beside him, its body twisted in the last throes of a mighty battle. The trees were flattened. The ground was scarred with blackened grooves of thunder. It wasn't just the body of a fight — it was the residue of something… unnatural.
A Rank 4 beast… corrupted.
"That shouldn't have happened. Not that far west. Not near the lower sector where outer disciples are sent."
Even more bizarre — the Qi signature left in the aftermath didn't entirely match Lan Wu's own. It was similar, yes. But the resonance? Off. Wild. Ancient. Touched by something wrong.
She'd dismissed it quickly when she returned, focusing instead on treating Lan Wu. But now… standing still in the silence, the thoughts returned.
Her gaze flickered.
The boy in the bath stirred lightly. His brows furrowed in his sleep, lips murmuring something unintelligible.
She walked forward and placed a warm towel gently across his shoulder. Her movements were slow, delicate. Uncharacteristic.
"Why?"
She whispered the word to no one. Not even herself.
" Why do you keep surviving, Lan Wu?"
He had come to the sect with nothing — no name, no cultivation, a shattered Dantian, a polite smile, and a thank-you in every breath. He had bowed when he was scolded, offered help when none asked, and stood back when he deserved to speak.
She had thought him naive.
And yet — she had never seen someone with so little, try so hard to give so much.
Her hand tightened at her side.
The winds from the mountains brushed against the open windows of the healing hall. Mei Lian stepped back, letting her face fall into shadow. Her voice dropped low — softer now, but bitter.
"Don't be like him."
She turned to look at Lan Wu again. He was still asleep, now deeper, the Qi bath pulsing faintly in rhythm with his breathing.
She remembered that face too — years ago.
Another boy. Another winter.
They called him Yan Shen, her junior brother.
He too had a soft smile. Kind eyes. A love for the lilies that grew outside the Pavilion. He had followed her like a shadow in her youth, idolized her, trusted her. In time, she had grown to care — fiercely, protectively — in the way only a cold woman could. Quiet, hard, absolute.
And in the end?
He died.
"Because I let myself care. Because I trusted that the world wouldn't take him."
He was caught in a skirmish with a deviant cultivator. And while she had been away training in the higher peaks, thinking he'd be safe…
The heavens had no kindness to spare.
Her eyes narrowed.
"So no," she whispered to herself, stepping back toward the window. "I won't do it again. I won't… feel anything for you, Lan Wu."
And yet… as she stood with the rain outside and the sleeping boy behind her, her heart weighed heavy.
Lan Wu was nothing like Yan Shen.
And yet, that was what made it worse.
He was too pure.
Too willing to suffer, to earn affection, to prove worth where no one demanded it. And that frightened her.
A Flicker of Doubt
"What are you hiding?"
That was the other thing that clawed at her. The fight with the tiger — it wasn't possible. A boy barely at the end of First Awakening should not have been able to touch a Rank 4 beast, corrupted or not.
Even her own strikes, at that stage, would have done little.
And yet he returned alive.
Barely.
She had probed his meridians after the bath began. No surge in stage. No sudden leap in core development.
But his Dantian had grown slightly denser, as if strained and widened through pressure. That sort of breakthrough required death's edge… or help.
But Lan Wu never spoke of it.
"If you are hiding something from me, boy…" she murmured.
And then she stopped.
The rest of the words didn't come.
Because even if he was—he looked so peaceful. So… fragile.
And the worst part?
"Even if you are lying to me, Lan Wu... I don't think it would change how I look at you."
Silent Resolve
She turned back, expression locked behind her cool exterior.
"Recover. And after you do," she said aloud, her voice regaining its blade-like edge, "you'll return to the mountains for a higher level of training."
Then, softer:
"...You'll need it."
The forest had changed. Something dark was moving, and the corruption in that beast was only a herald.
She stepped out of the healing chamber, her long robe trailing quietly behind her, the candle flames dimming as she passed.
Above, thunder rumbled once in the distance.
And below, in the healing pool, Lan Wu exhaled, a faint smile curling onto his lips in sleep.
He didn't hear Mei Lian's words.
But he felt them.
Somehow, even in her cold, distant way.
She was trying to protect him.
And that, to him, would always be enough.