Mango's Masterlist:
Find all my writing: #mango's writing Most of my pieces are x nonMC!Reader unless otherwise specified
Recent: Swords and Starfall (Xavier Angst), Gone With the Wind (Sylus Angst)

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Three Goblin Art
taylor price
Misplaced Lens Cap
Show & Tell
One Nice Bug Per Day
I'd rather be in outer space đž
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blake kathryn
hello vonnie
Claire Keane

Love Begins
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wallacepolsom
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Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă

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ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium

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@monoidmango
Mango's Masterlist:
Find all my writing: #mango's writing Most of my pieces are x nonMC!Reader unless otherwise specified
Recent: Swords and Starfall (Xavier Angst), Gone With the Wind (Sylus Angst)
Fluff - ⥠Angst - â
Multi/Small Headcanons
LIs in a biomed research lab
Full Fics:
Zayne (黿·±)
â+⥠Mildew and Frost - General!Zayne x Wife!Reader (Historical/Wuxia AU)
⥠Doctor!Zayne x Dentist!Reader (short)
â+⥠Polaris - Hidden Child Trope
Caleb (ć€ä»„æŒ)
ââ Paper Airplane Dreams - Colonel!Caleb x Wife!Reader
â Untitled/Goodnight (short)
ââ Bitter - Contract Marriage Trope
â+⥠Spare Planet in Your Orbit- Hidden Child Trope
Sylus (ç§Šćœ»)
ââ Gone with the wind - Your Lie in April x Forest of Fireflies
⥠Stuffed! - Archfiend!Sylus x Succubus!Reader
â+⥠Heartless (Pt. 1), (Pt. 2) - Dragon!Sylus x Phoenix!Reader
Rafayel (ç„ç )
⥠Gold Rush - Lemurian Sea God!Rayafel x Mermaid!Reader
⥠It Was Only A Kiss!! - Mermaid!Rafayel x Reader
Xavier (æČæć)
âSwords and Starfall - Wuxia AU (short)
In the Incubator:
Zayne
Caleb
⥠Colonel!Caleb x Doctor!Reader
Spare Planet in Your Orbit Pt. 2
Sylus
Rafayel
Xavier
⥠King!Rafayel x Crossdressing!Duke!Reader
Swords and Starfall
A/N: I lied when I said I was gonna work on my fluffy WIPs. Oops. Decided to welcome Xavier with a good ol'angst in a nod to Blades with Blossoms! (Totally not salty I never got that card)
Imagine you wake up alone, as a young girl in a small town in the jianghu, where regular mortals, cultivators, and great masters mingle alongside each other. With no memory and no family, the first problem staring you in the face is simply: how do you survive in a world where streaks of light from swords whizz past your face at every street corner??Â
Imagine to ensure your survival, you strike up a partnership with Xavier - a cool-headed, sleepy, and aloof young cultivator that you stumble upon, barely stringing him along with your cooking abilities. As you follow him on his journey to become a member of the Lanxing sect and eventually one of the greatest swordmasters in whole realm, you fall in love with him. How the emotions of youth are unpredictable but sincere! You accompany him through dozens of trials and challenges with fearless composure âall the while secretly, but cautiously, fantasizing that, one day, Xavier would finally turn around and truly *see* you... but to love is to love, and to not love is just that as well. Over the years of travel and all the things you've experienced by Xavier's side, you know very well that affection is the one thing that cannot be forced.Â
Imagine Xavier falls in love with a little fox spirit named MC.Â
Imagine a relationship between a cultivator and a fox spirit is forbidden. So for the sake of the fox spirit, Xavier succumbs to the demonic path. Driven mad by his passion and obsession with MC, Xavier lost all reason. At the inaugural Sword Discourse Tournament, he slaughters every single one of the two-hundred and ten cultivators in the Lanxing sect gathered on Mt. Wencang.Â
Imagine holding fast to the conviction that you could pull this misguided, melodramatic youth back onto the righteous pathâand reasoning that, after such a long friendship, surely you'd be able to redeem him. You think to yourself, maybe, just maybe, Xavier will snap back to his senses for a brief moment when he sees you. And then... you die on Mt. Wencang, right alongside those two-hundred and ten cultivators, with the loves and hates of youth burning at an intensity almost too much to bear. It's truly a tragic tale.
Imagine the moment his sword pierces cleanly through your heart, a carousel of images flood your mind: You were nothing more than a mere freshman in high school before you were thrust into this worldâstumbling blindly through your journey, and ultimately paying a devastatingly high price in the process. In your final moments, you weep and cry out, yearning only to go home to your friends and family. You long for the whirring ceiling fans in the classroom, for the bulletin boards in the hallways, for the endless stacks of exams you never quite finished, and for the neon lights that would gradually begin to glow as the sun set above the city.
Imagine as for Xavier... He had risen from a green, fledgling cultivator of the Lanxing sect to become the "Graceful Swordflash", a immortal master whose prowess shook the very foundations of the Eight Directions. In the wake of his carnage, amidst the ceaseless clash of blades and the bloodshed of battle, he too, found himself longing for the girl that once trailed faithfully behind him. You remained the sole, tender dream of his pastâthe only gentle memory he had left.
Imagine you're reborn. In this life, you go on a journey of your own to become a swordmaster. At your first challenge in the Sword Discourse Tournament, you're approached by the Immortal Lord Shen Xinghui - Xavier. You never expected someone with a status like him to be interested in a lowly cultivator like you, not to mention your innate fear of his renown sword, the Lightseeker. But you eventually succumb to his gentle demeanor and accept his pursuit as you travel the mountains and rivers of jianghu with him.
Imagine the night before the wedding, the two of you seal your souls together in front of the Lord of the Stars, the master of fates. That night, countless shooting stars fall across the sky, burning paths of light in their wake, each carrying memories from your past lives.
Imagine the day of your wedding, Xavier watches helplessly as you, weeping and crying out, run headlong towards the high tower without a second thought. Clad in your bridal robes, you run âfast at first, then faster stillâ the fiery red hem of your dress catching the light of the setting sun, before you leap from the towerâs heights.
Imagine you believed by doing so, you'd finally be able to go home.
Gone With the Wind
Synopsis: From the moment you first saw him, youâre convinced Sylus would be your salvation in this life. Little do you know, in the end, youâre the one who finally gives him freedom. He rests in the wind. You are buried by snow.
Warning(s):TW!! Mentions of depression and suicide. If you are sensitive towards the aforementioned topics, maybe sit this one out (Ë ËÌŁÌŁÌ„âËÌŁÌŁÌ„ ). Angst, Slow burn, Doomed romance, tragedy. Major character death!! (x3). Seriously. ANGST. HURT. No comfort. Non-cannonical universe, Mephisto is human whoops. GRAB SOME TISSUES! Â
30.1k words
A/N: I don't say this enough but thank you to everyone who has the patience to read through my really long works! It makes the writing process all worth it <3 Anyhow, it's the end of March, which means I need to honor one of my top devastating animes of all time: Your Lie in April!! This is loosely inspired by Your Lie In April and Forest of Fireflies (but the worst of both worlds). I swear I'm only gonna be working on fluff after this for a while; I cried too many times writing the ending. As always, happy reading and enjoy!
1. You lean against the old wallpaper as Mrs. Zhou, your grandma's domestic helper, takes your bags. "Thanks for coming back to visit. I know this place is shabby and far, but your grandma is very happy to see you. As you know, her health these days..." You nod, stopping her from saying more. "She's still taking a nap, isn't she? I'll walk around a little bit. Be back for dinner." Mrs. Zhou nods, instructing you, "Take the main road. Turn back as soon as it gets dark." "Okay," you reply, slinging your camera around your neck.
You head out, choosing the opposite direction your cab had came from, slowly walking along the cement road. The road seems to lead to the top of the mountain; it's all uphill, but fortunately, the dense foliage and cool breeze makes the walk less tiring. The scenery of the mountain village is beautiful, but it's not quite enough to make you stop and enjoy the view. You don't reach for the camera around your neck. As you notice the sun slowly beginning to set, you decide to turn around after the next bend.Â
But after passing the bend, you don't turn around. You stop, casually glancing up in the fleeting moment.
Before you lies a clearing off the edge of a cliff, twilight streaming through the rolling, thick clouds, forming beams of light. A figure stands there, tall and slender, like a pine tree growing on the cliff's edge. The pine trees on the cliff, standing year-round, heir branches and leaves shaped by the will of the breeze, seem destined to one day become nothing more than the wind itself. That person seems to be just like that as well; like someone who would become the wind.
You, lost in thought for a moment, raise your camera.
You press the shutter, and in that instant, the person in the lens turns their head, a cold gaze piercing through the twilight and mountain wind, meeting your eyes. Your heart feels like its been struck by a lightning bolt. You feel a momentary stiffness in your body, and you stammer as you lower the camera.
Without the filter of the lens, the coldness in that gaze is even more pronounced.
"Did you get my permission to take the picture?" His voice is icy cold. âSorry," you say. âIâll delete it now.â After doing so, you walk towards him, showing him the camera. âItâs deleted.â
You're only about a meter apart when the man reaches out and takes the camera from you, checking if you've actually done so. You don't mind. It was your fault at first. He looks down at the camera. You look at him.
The person before you seems to be around your age, maybe just a little older, exuding the chill of the early spring breeze. The light filtering through the clouds bath him, giving him an unreal, almost ethereal quality, especially since you've met in this place. It's as if he shouldnât exist in the first place, a god who only appears in the depths of the clouds, among these mountains and rivers.
You're enraptured by his face when you suddenly notice a subtle change in his expression: He raises an eyebrow slightly. You quickly realize he must have saw something on your camera, like your selfies.
You snatch the camera back and, sure enough, the album is turned to a set of deliberately silly faces. You took those on a whim, wanting to see what your face, often described as icy, would look like with those expressions. You haven't deleted them yet, too lazy to do so, not expecting anyone else to see them.
âWho gave you permission to look through my things?â You ask with an annoyed look. The boy doesn't react much, replying lightly, âWe're even now.â He turns away indifferently, continuing to look at the horizon.
Fine. It's even. You compose yourself and follow his gaze. It's then that you realize you could actually see the sea from here.
At that moment, the setting sun dips below the horizon, bathing the sea in a golden hue. The shimmering waves, like countless stars falling into the depths, blend seamlessly with the twilight. This is the perfect spot to watch the sunset. The scene before you is certainly worthy of a photograph, but you don't raise your camera again. Instead, you take a step towards the edge of the cliff and look down. The cliff is steep; you need to walk to the very edge to see the top. You look at the bottom with a thoughtful expression.
After a while, you say, "This is a good place to jump off."
The boy next to you isn't surprised by your comment; even humming in agreement. You, however, are quite surprised by his reaction. A normal person wouldn't react this way to such a remark.
You turn to look at him. He also glances at you. Your gazes meet in the evening breeze, neither flinching nor hesitant.
This eye contact lasts a long time, but neither of you show any real emotion in your eyes. You don't look away; you simply didn't want to look away. Looking into his eyes, an indescribable feeling rises in your heart. If you had to describe it, it's like sinking into the sea, having your breath taken away, but not suffocating. You feel your body floating, then sinking deeper and deeper, reaching the deepest point, where you see another deep blue sea.
It's something you've never seen before, so you wanted to keep looking.
Unfortunately, he doesn't intend for you to keep looking. He looks away, glancing at the sun completely below the horizon, and says calmly, "It's getting dark. Aren't you going back?" "Yes," you say, but you don't move. Instead, you ask him, "What about you?" "Yes." Unlike you, he turns around as soon as he opens his mouth. He has long legs, and in a few strides, is already back on the concrete road, turning to go down the mountain. You follow, going in the same direction.Â
Before long, you catch a glimpse of your grandma's little house from the corner of your eyes. You watch the person before you keep walking ahead. You contemplate for a moment before stopping.
"Hey," you call out. He stops and turns around. He doesn't ask what you're calling him for, just quietly looking at you. You walk a few steps closer and ask, "What's your name?" His eyes are half-lidded, meeting your direct gaze, his expression calm and indifferent. "Sylus Qin."
Sylus...
You silently repeat the name in your head. It fits, you decide. "The first time I saw you, I thought you were like the wind." You say, tone unwavering as if stating a fact. Sylus disagrees, coldly replying, "I don't think so." You don't mind his unfriendly remark; instead, a slight smile appears on your lips.
You find him amusing.
"What's wrong with being like the wind? You seem quite resistant to the idea." "It's not that it's bad. I'm just not like it," he says. "Then what are you like?" You press again. "I don't know," he replies, "I haven't thought about it." You look at him, a smile appearing in your usually calm, lake-like eyes. For the first time in years, you feel a desire to understand someone. You want to see what this man named Sylus is like.
âWill we meet again?â You ask. The evening breeze carries your voice to his ears, accompanied by the rustling of leaves.
Sylus looks at you. You stand a few feet above him on a not-so-steep slope, backlit, your hair blurred by light and shadow. Your face is hazy, like distant mountains at dusk. âYes." You give him a faint smile.Â
You don't exchange any more words that night. The two of you continue walking. Sylus doesn't stop when you reach your doorstep, and you don't call out to him again either. Afterall, you aren't close. But you have a feeling you'll meet again anyway.
Back home, you open your camera, press a few buttons, and recover the photo that was deleted earlier. You hadn't even properly looked at the photo before it was gone. Now, looking at the person in the photo, those eyes, your heart is struck again.
You have quite a few interests, but photography was never one of them. You simply used it as a recording device for your everyday life, so you don't pay close attention to things like composition or lighting. But this photo before you, in terms of composition, lighting, and atmosphere, is objectively excellent- enough to be breathtaking.
A cliff, a setting sun, a sea of clouds with twilight overflowing, and a person standing in the center of the light like a god. The god turns his head through the long wind to meet your gaze. Even looking into those eyes through the photograph, you can feel the wind suddenly stop, and the mountains and seas falling silent.
You recall the distance between yourself and Sylus at the time; it was only a few meters, yet he gives off an extremely distant feeling in the photo. Perhaps it is his aloofness, like a cold moon hanging in the distant sky. Unlike many boys your age who try to feign profundity and indifference, his coldness seems to emanate from his very bones.
There's a saying: People are always attracted to those who are completely opposite to themselves, but those who are extremely similar to themselves are even more captivating. It's a saying about love. You don't think you've fallen in love with Sylus Qin at first sight, but you can't deny that you consider him very attractive. You've never felt this level of intense curiosity about anyone before. He is the first.Â
Before, you've always felt that life was meaningless. You were detached and uninterested in the world. Despite having just started college, you have no expectations for the future. Now, you finally have something to look forward to: Your second encounter with Sylus.
2. After dinner, you push your grandmother out in her wheelchair for a short walk.
Whenever the sun is away, the mountains are exceptionally cool. Every breath of air feels like it had been filtered through snowmelt soaked in bamboo leavesâmoist, cool, and refreshing. There are four roads in front of your grandmother's house. One leads to the cliff where you met Sylus, but it's all uphill. Another leads to the town, and you already saw the scenery along that route. You don't where the other two led, so you let your grandma choose: the flatter one it is.
This road isn't very steep, but it's still built on the hillside. One side is mountain, and the other a cliff. The view is extremely wide, showing the stream and dense forest below, and the distant, rolling mountain range. The scenery before you is undoubtedly beautiful, but you're somewhat distracted. You push your grandma forward slowly as she occasionally points out places to tell you their names and stories that had happened there.
"Do you see that bridge?" "Yes." "There used to be only a single plank of wood there. I walked on it since I was little and never fell. But the day I met your grandfather, I fell into the river. Your grandfather pulled me out, and then he built a bridge there." You aren't particularly interested in these old-fashioned love stories. "I see."Â
Your grandma senses your nonchalance and sighs softly. Ever since the wanderer accident, your personality really hasn't changed at all. You've been indifferent to everything and uninterested in anything.
"Y/N," your grandma who had been recounting your past throughout the walk, suddenly asks, "You haven't dated anyone yet, your second semester of freshman year?" "No," you reply simply. "Why don't you try finding someone?"
You grandma had always believed that if you wanted to, there would be a line of men willing to be your boyfriend stretching all the way to France. She's certain you didn't have a lack of suitors. "Too lazy," you grunt. Sure enough. She sighs again, then says gently, "Being in love is wonderful and interesting thing."
"Is that so?" You raise your chin slightly, but its unclear whether you were listening to her at all. Your eyes look into the distance, unfocused. Your grandma gently pats the back of your hand, deciding to offer one last word of advice: "Listen to Granny, give it a try. Fall in love a few times while you're young; it won't hurt."
You're silent for a while, before asking, "Does everyone have to fall in love in this life?" "There's nothing you absolutely have to do in this life." Your grandma follows your gaze, "But I've always believed that we should experience life to the fullest, with passion." "What we're passionate about is usually what we love, and love can be an object, an process, or even a person. If you find it hard to find something to love, then perhaps..." She smiles, as if thinking of something, "try to love someone."
As she speaks, your grandma turns her head, lowering her gaze to her wrinkled hand on the back of your own, softly saying, "Granny hopes you will do so. In this life, as long as you have and pursue something you love, no matter the outcome, it's worth it."
3. You walk around town listlessly. There's not much to do around here, if you're being honest. You don't expect to spend your time here productively, mostly to accompany your grandma before her health declines further.Â
As much as you're disinterested in the world around you, your grandma is someone you cared deeply about.Â
10 years ago, your entire family except for yourself and grandma was wiped out by the Chronorift disaster. While you survived, the doctors noted a disruption in your bones, but nothing they could quite pinpoint for sure. All you understood was that your body was slowly weakening, your bone marrow gradually becoming unable to sustain you. They couldn't give you an exact diagnosis, but it was undisputed that you wouldn't live a full lifetime.
The last doctor's visit you had before coming back to visit your grandma, they told you at the rate your body was declining, you had at most 10 years left.Â
You didn't really care. Your life as you knew it ended the day your house and everyone else in it was wiped out. You stayed in school in Linkon City because you knew it was what your parents would've wanted. You did judo because it was your brother's favorite sport. You stayed alive simply because there was still someone in the world that held onto you: your grandma, so you made sure to visit her every winter and summer break without fail.Â
Other than that, you've never tried, or allowed yourself to get too attached to this world. You knew you were going to die anyways. There was no point, right?
You make your way to the older, mostly empty part of town. Abandoned houses line the stone-paved road. You wonder who used to live in these.
Turning a corner, you hear muffled grunts coming from behind a crumbling brick wall. Cautious, you get into a defensive posture as you get closer.
AÂ trio of teenagers kick at a younger boy on the ground. One of them spits into his figure as he mocks, "where's your big, bad, demon to protect you now?" You frown, stepping into their line of vision.
"Hey," you call out, your voice monotonous, but clear enough to get their attention. "What's going on?"
The group turns to look at you, freezing for only a second before realizing a girl is not a threat.
"You're an outsider, so stay out of this." The tallest one snarls.Â
You simply stare at them with your dull eyes until one by one, they withdraw their gaze, clearly uncomfortable at your unsettling attitude.
"Let's go," the first speaks up again, giving the boy on the ground one last kick before leaving. You raise an eyebrow. He purposefully shoves your shoulder as he passes you. In the spur of the moment, you grab his arm and watch him eat a faceful of dirt.Â
"You!" he draws his arms back as he gets up, about to throw a punch. You raise your own fists, not deliberately challenging him, but steadfast enough to signal that you weren't going down easy.
He gives you a hard look before scoffing, "I don't hit girls, so I'm sparing you this once. I better not see you in my face again, or you'll get the burnt of it."Â
You watch as the possy of bullies leave, then make your way over the boy still on the ground. He sits up shakily, as if to check that they're gone. "You good?" you ask airily, pulling him to his feet. "Yes!" he quickly replies, "Thank you, I'm Mephisto! And you are..."
Your eyebrows raise at the unique name. It seems that there are more interesting people in this village than you originally assumed. "Y/N," you supply, turning around now that your job here is done. "Wait!" He calls, hurriedly limping next to you. "You were really cool just now! Did you train in martial arts before?" "Judo" you say. "I haven't seen you around before, whatcha doing in the mountains?" "On uni break, visiting my grandma." "Wow, that's amazing! I'll be graduating soon and heading to university as well!"
You have to admit that you're a little shocked. He seems quite a bit younger than you. His eager eyes remind you of a curious crow.Â
"Are all of the kids around here as talkative as you?"Â You already know one person who isn't: Sylus. Mephisto chuckles bashfully, "No, not really! I'm just thankful that you saved me!"Â Â A cheerful voice fills the air around you as you walk back to the village center.
4. Mephisto waves enthusiastically as he escorts you back to your grandma's house, insisting it was the "gentlemanly" thing to do after you saved him. Actually, he's just excited to have another human to talk to.Â
He'd have to take a long detour back home now. His leg is actually completely fine, but if he went the direct route and you saw him going up the stairs with no issues at all, you'd see through his intentions right away.Â
After walking for a while, a large villa comes into view. Mephisto sighs, pausing for a moment before crossing a long bridge that leads to the gilded front gates. Upon reaching the entrance, he calls out loudly, "Boss? Boss! Sylus!"
A moment later, a figure appears in front of the second-floor French windows.
Sylus has superhuman eyesight, immediately noticing the injury on Mephisto's forehead even from up there. He turns to go downstairs to open the door.
"Who did this?" is the first thing out of his mouth. Mephisto answers truthfully, "Some brats from the N109 gang." He adds quickly, "Don't bother getting back at them, I won't be running into them for much longer." Sylus hums in agreement, indicating for Mesphisto to come in, "let's get you patched up."
The wound on Mephisto's head wasn't small. Sylus brings out the first-aid kit to bandage it for him, sighing, "you humans get hurt so easily." Mephisto perks up, "Sylus, I was going to get beaten up even worse today, but someone I never saw before helped me! Guess who?" "Y/N" Mephisto is stunned for a few seconds. "How do you know her full name?" "I already met her a few days ago. We got to know each other somewhat."
"Oh..." Mephisto lowers his head, seemingly lost in thought. After a while, he looks up and smiles at Sylus, saying, "I think she's a lot like you, Boss! She looks cold on the outside, but is actually a very nice person." Sylus doesn't react to his comment, only asking, "how did she help you?"
Mephisto gets excited. "She's amazing! When she saw me get beaten up, she challenged their leader to a one-on-one fight, promising to take me away if she won. Then she just did an over-the-shoulder throw and the big bully couldn't even get up!" Mephisto's eyes are shinning with admiration. "You didn't see her skills! Holy crap, it was so cool!" He's about to stand up and demonstrate, but Sylus presses him back down, putting the last strip of tape on him. "Alright."
"Boss, why aren't you surprised at all? An over-the-shoulder throw!" "She's from the city, it's normal for her to learn some form of martial arts or something." "True." Mephisto raises his hand to touch the gauze on his forehead, wincing for a second.
"Let's go, I'll give you a ride home." "Boss you have a car??" Mephisto exclaims in surprise. "I've never seen you drive before!" "I can't take it out of this mountain, what's the point?" Mephisto immediately shuts his mouth, following Sylus out.
The "ride" Sylus was referring to is an all matte black motorcycle, with minimal red trim "A motorcycle?" Mephisto looks at the tank of a motorcycle in front of him, its demeanor completely out of place in the rural mountains. "I thought it would be a truck."Â
Sylus smirks, "If it were a truck, you think those squirts from N109 would've had the chance to hurt me?"
5. White clouds drift across the sky, their reflections pale and soft, unable to hide the darker depths beneath. You arrive at the cliff long before sundown today. The path up the mountain twists through seven or eight bends before opening onto the precipice. You know it well already. You choose the pine tree near the edge and set up your easel there. The sea stretches endlessly in the distance, a quiet expanse of blue. You begin sketching it onto the canvas.
Somewhere along the path behind you, someone stops. Sylus. You donât hear his footsteps, but you know heâs there, watching from afar. You turn around.
Across the distance, your eyes meet.
He starts toward you again, walking slowly, step by step. You donât wait for him to reach your side. Turning back to your canvas, you continue painting.
âAre all city people so multitalented?â His voice sounds beside youâlow, cool, but edged with a youthful tinge. You sit on a flat rock. The easel is heavy enough that you didnât bother bringing a stool. Now Sylus stands next to you, tall enough that you would have to crane your neck just to see his face.
You decide not to.
âThe multi-talented ones arenât city people,â you say evenly. âItâs just me.â A chuckle escapes him. You glance up. You want to see what he looks like when he laughs.
âIt seems,â he says, the corner of his mouth still lifted, âyou can do more than just those two things.â A brief flicker of amusement passes through his eyes. His smile has the careless charm typical of boys his ageâeasy, a little roguish, unexpectedly striking. You watch him for a moment. âTwo things?â âJudo and painting,â he says. âArenât those two?â
You pause, still looking at him. âWhy does Mephisto tell you everything?â âWho else would he tell?â Sylus replies. You remember what your grandmother said: that Sylus is the only one willing to play with Mephisto.
Your gaze drifts away. You raise your brush and add the final stroke. âFinished?â he asks. âYes.â âHow long have you been here?â âAbout half an hour.â âYou finished that quickly?â âDrawing the sea is easy.â He tilts his head slightly. âThen whatâs difficult to draw?â âPeople.â
You look up at him again. âI want to draw another one.â He raises an eyebrow slightly, waiting. âCan you be my model?â
For a moment, Sylus says nothing. His long lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes, moving gently in the sea breeze as he looks down at you.
âSure,â he says at last. âStand over there.â You point to a nearby tree.
He walks over and leans against the trunk, posture loose and casual. Some people look like a painting just by standing still. You take a slow breath without realizing it. Then you lower your gaze and replace the drawing paper.
âAnything else?â he asks when youâre almost ready. You pause while fixing the paper, looking up to meet his eyes. âLook at me.â Your voice is cool and clear, like falling snow. âAnd keep looking at me.â The wind lifts strands of your hair across your forehead, half-covering your eyes.
Sylus watches you through them. In truth, he has been looking at you the entire timeâbut the moment you say those words, his gaze falters.
Cicadas cry in the trees. Leaves rustle. For two seconds, his focus drifts, your figure blurring before his eyes. Then it sharpens again. Beneath the chorus of cicadas and wind, another sound grows louder: A heartbeat. He doesnât speak again. He simply follows your instructions: Looking at you, and continuing to look at you.
You paint for two hours. He watches you for two hours.
âDone.â You set the brush aside. Sylus straightens from the tree and walks over.
The painting is oil, but youâve incorporated the loose spirit of ink wash. The pine trees and sky behind him are rendered with only a few strokes, more of a suggestion than detail. The portrait isnât perfectly realistic, but it captures him unmistakably.
âVery well done,â he says. âHere.â You hand him the canvas. âTake it.â âThanks.â His lips curl slightly. You asked him to model, yet somehow heâs the one thanking you.
âLetâs go,â he says, âYour familyâs probably having dinner already. Iâll walk you home.â You glance toward the sun lowering toward the horizon and hum softly in agreement, packing away your paint box and easel. The easel looks heavy. âIâll carry it,â Sylus offers. âNo need.â You lift it easily. âYou carry the painting. The paint isnât dry.â He raises an eyebrow, amused. âAlright.â
You carry the easel while he walks beside you holding the painting. The evening breeze moves through his hair, tousling it like in the movies.
You recall your grandmother's words again: "Ten out of ten girls in this town like him." But judging from his expression, you don't recall ever seeing Sylus even be friendly with a girl before.
You're curious again. This time, however, you decide to ask directly. "Sylus, have you ever been in a relationship?" "No." Sylus' calm voice falls from above. "Why not? My grandmother said every girl here likes you. They're all so pretty. Are your standards that high?" "It's not that my standards are high, it's that I've never had that thought." He pauses for a second before suddenly stopping to look you in the eyes. "Hey. You know I can only play around with you, right?"
Something in the way he says those words make you think that his sentence might not just refer to you, but to everyone.Â
You guess it might be related to his background and experiences; perhaps this is the crux of all your curiosity about him. You don't intend to find out now, fearing that once the answer is revealed, you'll lose interest.
"Have you ever liked anyone?" You decide to change the subject. Sylus takes a moment to think about it this time. "No. And you?" It's his turn to ask you. "Have you ever liked anyone?"
His voice is low and slow, revealing no emotion, sounding almost like he cared, yet also as if he's just asking casually. Liking someone⊠Just then, you realize maybe you do like him a little, but you're more annoyed he stole your question. "No."
Sylus seems somewhat incredulous. A normal person of your age would definitely have someone they liked at some point, with even those a little less normal having felt some amount of attraction towards another person.
He is an exception though, of course.
âYou've probably met many outstanding boys in the city, how come you donât like any of them?â âThere can be lots of people out there, but Iâm not interested in any of them. Without interest, how can I like anyone?â You airily reply. âWhat kind of men would interest you?â he presses.
The mountain road is bumpy, as you don't dare be distracted while holding your easel. You halt in your step. The wind in your ears stop for a moment, and inertia causes the person behind you to lean forward. You feel his breath settle, brushing against the side of your neck.
Involuntarily, you tense and take a deep breath before turning around to meet his eyes.
âSomeone like you.â Sylus' expression freezes. As if taken aback by your words, he pauses for a few seconds before asking, "How?" "You're interesting," you hesitate before adding, "you intrigue me." Sylus chuckles. "This is the first time I've heard someone describe me like that."
"Then listen carefully." You stare intently into his eyes, unwavering. Your surroundings are quiet, the wind gentle, the cicadas' chirping hidden deep in the shade of the trees.
Your words are crystal clear.Â
"Sylus Qin, in this utterly boring world, you are the only thing I am curious about."
He trembles slightly upon hearing this. This is the first time you see such a clear surge of emotion in his eyes, like a raging storm brewing there.
"So, Sylus," you speak up again, "For the remaining month or so, either you make me fall completely, or you keep me curious forever, okay?" You tilt your head slightly, like a cat. Sylus' eyes darken, his gaze fixed on you. "Okay," he says.
Strangely, the road back home feels shorter.
5. Halfway down the path, you get a call from your grandma. She asks if youâre already on your way back and says Mrs. Zhou is cooking tonight. Even before you reach the house, the smell of food drifts through the air.
At the doorway, you stop. Sylus stops too. âSee you tomorrow.â You tilt your head slightly as you say it, your tone lifting at the end like a question. âSee you tomorrow,â he replies. The same words. But his sound certain.
You smile as the evening wind lifts your hair.
Even after you step into the courtyard, the smile on your face lingers. Anticipating tomorrow feels⊠surprisingly nice. You realize this new feeling with a start.
This person before you makes your heart skip a beat so easily.  It's highly unusual for someone like you, but perhaps it's because Sylus himself is not of the conventional kind either. He's special, mysterious, and a good person, you reason. Anyone would be easily moved. But it still doesn't fully account for how you possess an inexplicable attraction for him.Â
You think you may like him a little. At most, only a little. You haven't fallen for him yet.Â
This makes you quite intrigued. What if one day you really fall completely in love?
You've always wanted to know what it feels like to love someone, especially the kind of unwavering and intense love your grandmother had for your grandfather.
6. âLooks like my precious granddaughter is very happy today.â Your grandmotherâs teasing voice greets you from ahead.
You look up and laugh openly.
She smiles tooâwarm, gentle, satisfied. It has been a long time since she has seen you smile like that. âRemember to smile more,â she says kindly. âAt your age, your smiles are the most beautiful.â
You blink. Sheâs talking to you, but someone else comes to mind. Sylus. His smile really is handsome.
As for youâyouâve never tried to seem aloof. When something is interesting, you naturally smile. Itâs just that nothing had truly amused you before.
âLet me see what you drew today.â You show her the seascape you held onto. âYou went to the cliff,â she says immediately, recognizing the view. âYou met Sylus there, didnât you?â âYes. Does he go there often?â âI think so.â She smiles faintly. âI first saw that boy there too. When I was young, I liked watching the sunset from that cliff. After I came back here, I went again a few times⊠and he was always there.â
She sighs softly. âThe sunset there is beautiful,â she says. âBut he shouldn't have to only watch it thereâ
You donât quite understand what she means, the regret in her voice.
But you wonder, when you finally do understand... whether youâll feel the same sadness because of him.
7. It becomes routine now, meeting Sylus at the mountainside, keeping each other company until sundown. You curse yourself for not checking the weather forecast, the quiet sound of thunder rumbling in the distance cutting your usual meeting short.Â
âWe need to hurry. It might rain,â Sylus says, turning around to head back to the paved road. You donât want to walk faster. âEven if we go faster, we wonât get much faster.â The hill is steep, only to become slippery if rain falls. âTrue.â âWhat do we do if it starts pouring?â you ask. âLetâs find shelter first. Rain here usually doesnât last too long during the day.â âWhat if it keeps raining?â âIf it keeps rainingâŠâ Sylus pauses, actually stops walking for a moment, to think. âThen weâll just have to go back soaked.â
You roll your eyes, passing him on the road. But after only a few steps, you stop when Sylus calls your name from behind.
âY/N.â
It isnât as if no one has ever called you by your full name before. But when Sylus says it, your heart inexplicably skips a beat. Because of that subtle feeling, you pause for a moment before turning around. In the half second it takes you to turn, you hear a dull thudâlike someone kicking the mountain laurel tree beside you.
Startled, you instinctively close your eyes. When you open them again, Sylus is standing beneath a tree. And the laurel blossoms begin falling like rain.
The two of you gaze at each other through the drifting white petals.
Time seems to slow down. Even the petals seem to fall more slowly, and through the gaps between them you clearly see the smile in his eyes. You see the curve of his lips. The slight arc of his eyes. Then he speaks, his voice already beautiful without lowering it:
âBefore, this place was called once called Laurel Bend.â
You look at him, and suddenly your eyes burnâas if scorched by the fiercest midsummer sun.
It is midsummer. But the sky above is overcast.
Some powerful emotion slowly arises through your daze, steadily filling every corner of your heart. You think you will remember this moment for a very long timeâ
Petals drift down. The boy beneath the laurel tree laughs freely, like the wind.
In your illusion, time slows. But the real world never stops for anyone. Soon only a few petals drift from the breeze. Sylus notices the stunned look on your face, but he says nothing. He only looks at you, eyes slightly narrowed.
âSylus.â You finally regain your senses and call out to him. âYouâve really never been in love?â âNo.â âYou're quite talented then.â Sylus doesnât give you much of an reaction. âI probably wonât be in a relationship in this lifetime.â
You blink slowly, thinking for a moment, then ask calmly: âCan I be someone outside of that realm of âprobablyâ?â
A flicker passes through Sylusâs eyesâthen quickly sinks into something deep and dark. A breeze moves through the branches, knocking down another blossom or two.
He looks at you for a moment before answering: âThatâs up to you, not me.â
His voice reveals little emotion, but the meaning is very clear. If you want to date him... he would be willing to go along. The prerequisite for love⊠is like.
He likes you.
You suddenly laugh. âSylus, when did you start liking me?â He smiles too.
Heâs used to your bluntness, but heâs still slightly surprised whenever you say something unexpected.
âItâs hard to explain,â he says. He really canât explain it. But when you asked that question just now, the answer in his heart was already yes.
You tilt your head slightly. âItâs not love at first sight then.â
You had thought it might be; otherwise, falling so quickly would feel out of character for someone like him.
But human nature is complicated. Even the coldest person can smile when they meet the right one. Someone with a terrible temper can become gentle for the person they truly like. And those who seem confident and generous, who knows what insecurities they hide inside? Most people have two sides. Many sides. Sometimes even contradictions. Some even have hidden parts of themselves they donât realize exist.
Those simple labels people give each other are just stereotypes.
âIâm the kind of person who doesnât fall in love at first sight,â Sylus says. He pauses, then adds, âBut I can be attracted.â
Your brows relax. âYou and I are quite alike.â
The first time you saw him, you saw a little part of yourself in him. Now that feeling is even stronger.
You arenât someone who falls in love at first sight either. But you were intrigued.
Love at first sight is often just lust at first sight. If you could fall for someone instantly, you wouldnât have spent nineteen years without ever liking anyone. âBut I feel like Iâm the opposite of you."
Sylus takes two steps forward until heâs standing beside you.
âThat just means I donât understand you well enough yet,â you finish. âYou will understand,â he says with certainty.
You once told him he would either make you fall completely⊠or keep you curious forever. His tone suggests heâs confident about which one it will be. And he has the right to be confident.
Right now youâre not sure whether you only like him a little⊠or if youâve already fallen completely. You have no experience with love. You donât even know what âfalling completelyâ feels like.
âLetâs go,â Sylus says, glancing up at the dark clouds rolling in from the horizon. âItâll definitely rain within two hours. I donât know if we can make it back before then.â
You start walking. âThen why were you doing that earlier?â You mention the trees. Sylus follows beside you, saying nothingâonly chuckling softly.
Without the blazing sun, walking isnât too exhausting. The two of you abandon your usual languid stroll and walk quickly. At this pace, you definitely wonât need two hours to get home.
But the dark clouds move even faster. The rain suddenly pours down. Large drops splatter across the concrete road, leaving dark spots until the entire road turns black. Thereâs nowhere nearby that can fully shelter you from the rain, so Sylus pulls you beneath a dense canopy of trees.
âGive me your phone,â he says. You look at him in confusion. âWhy?â âMy pants are waterproof.â
His pants are cargo shortsâbesides the side pockets, there are snap pockets on the front. Once theyâre closed, rain canât get inside.
You take out your phone but donât give it to him immediately. Instead, you twirl it in your hand while looking him up and down.
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â he asks. âSylus⊠did you know it would rain today?â âIf I had known,â he says, âwould I have taken you this far?â âSo itâs just a coincidence? You just happened to be wearing these pants.â âYeah.â He chuckles. âAnother coincidence.â
You look at the curve of his lips and press your tongue lightly against the inside of your mouth.
âAt first, I thought you were someone who didnât smile much.â âI donât like to laugh,â he says. He says it while smiling. You narrow your eyes. âThen why have you been laughing so much lately?â âDonât you know why?â Sylus looks at you with those deep black eyes. âI donât know.â You keep twirling your phone and gesture at him with your chin. âTell me.â
You want him to say it himself.
Heâs always circling around the truthâsaying things like Iâll play along, Iâll play to the end, whether youâre there or not is up to me. Indirect admissions, never a clear answer.
But this time he only says three words. âI wonât say.â âWhat canât you say? You already admitted it.â
His expression remains calm.
Compared to you, the one whose heart is moving, he looks like someone experienced, someone whoâs navigated countless emotions without ever losing control.
âAdmitting it is one thing,â he says. âSaying it out loud without a positive response is another.â You stare at him. âHow do you know I didnât respond positively?â âThen let me ask you something.â He leans against the tree trunk, eyelids half-lowered. Calm? Confident? Itâs hard to tell which. âHave you fallen for me?â His voice is relaxed, lazy even. âCompletely?" Youâve already thought about this question before. You donât know the right answer. And if youâre unsure⊠then maybe you havenât. âNo.â
Sylus laughs again. âWhat are you laughing at now?â âI wonât say.â
The three light words land in your ears like feathers, tickling your heart. This ambiguous, but tempting feeling is unbearable. âSylus, youâre annoying.â âYeah,â he admits easily. âI am.â
Fine. Maybe he isnât the one whoâs annoying. Maybe youâre the one about to explode.
At that moment, a raindrop falls from the tree and hits your forehead.
Sylus chuckles. âGive me your phone. This tree wonât last much longer.â You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down, and finally hand it to him.
The rain continues pouring. Drops keep falling from the leaves, and judging by the heavy clouds, it doesnât seem like it will stop anytime soon.
You glance at the sky. âWill this rain stop?â Sylus looks at the darkened sky. âItâll probably rain until tomorrow.â Then he adds, âIt should get lighter later.â âShould we wait here for a while?â you ask. âRainy days get dark early,â he replies. âIf we wait too long, itâll be night.â
âSoâŠâ Sylus turns toward you. He slips his hands into his pockets, tilts his head slightly back, and slowly steps out into the downpour. âWant to get soaked with me?â
Within seconds his hair is drenched, yet he doesnât look messy. Because his head is tilted back, the rain sweeps his hair away from his face instead of plastering it down. His forehead is fully revealedâclean, youthfulâonly a few strands falling forward. Thereâs a natural wildness to him. Reckless. Free.
Your heart starts pounding uncontrollably again.
Youâve seen plenty of good-looking people in your life. None of them impressed you much. You always thought you were indifferent to appearances. But apparently⊠you can still be stunned.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. âDo I have any other choice?â Your voice remains calm despite the chaos inside you.
Sylus keeps his head tilted back. âThereâs a big difference between choosing to get wet and being forced to get wet.â
âBut I donât want either.â You want to see what else he can come up with. Then he says: âWhat if you get an invitation??â
A third option.
He always seems to find one.
You clasp your hands behind your back. âAre you inviting me?â âYes.â He extends his hand toward you through the rain. âIâm inviting you.â
No bowing. No kneeling. That kind of Western formality doesnât suit someone raised in the mountains. This is what suits him best: head slightly tilted back, long fingers casually extended. Open. Effortless.
You lower your gaze to his palm as rainwater quickly gathers in it. A quiet laugh rises in your chest.
You place your hand in his, just as naturally, and look up at him. âThen Iâll reluctantly accept your invitation.â
Sylus smiles.
His fingers tighten around yours as he pulls you along The two of you run together into the rain. Â
8. You overestimate your abilities. The dowsing of rainwater sends you into a fever the same evening.Â
Your grandmother frets over you, aghast, "what were you thinking? It's not like you don't know the severity your own condition!" You register her words, barely. But for once, under the onslaught of the failure of your own body, you feel no regrets. Â
The night goes on, your fever unrelenting. Thunder roars across the skies, followed by cracks of lightning. You grandma rubs her knuckles in worry. Because of the storm, the roads are in no condition for cars to traverse. If you needed any medical attention, there's no taxis or drivers around to help.Â
Finally, around 3am, she goes to knock on Mephisto's door.Â
The young boy opens it in surprise, immediately wheeling the old lady in. "I have an important favor to ask of you," she croaks, still shivering from the rain. "Can you please ask Sylus to borrow his motorcycle? My granddaughter... she needs to go to the hospital." "I... I can call," Mephisto agrees, hesitantly. "But you are aware that..." "Yes, I know. I was hoping you would be able to take her."Â
Mephisto stiffens, but makes the call. After briefly explaining the situation to Sylus, he hands over the phone.
"Grandma, Mephisto isn't experienced enough to take the motorcycle down the mountain in these conditions." Sylus' voice crackles across the phone line. Her hand tightens on the receiver, "what can I do, Sylus?" A pregnant pause falls between the two of them before Sylus finally speaks up again. "I'll take her." Your grandma's voice falls to a hushed whisper. "Thank you, Sylus."  "No need, it was my fault to begin with." "Don't... strain yourself. If Mephisto can go with you, drop him off with Y/N as soon as they can get a ride." Her voice is thick with emotion as she thanks him again, and hangs up the phone.Â
Sylus arrives within the hour, wearing nothing but a wide-rimmed hat and a wind-breaker. Your grandmother barely has time to scold him about staying warm and dry as he towels off, wrapping you in a blanket, then a rain poncho. Mephisto comes by as well, sandwiching you between himself and Sylus on the motorcycle, holding you up for extra support.Â
The steep, winding road down the mountain is even more eerie at night, the headlights of the motorcycle providing the only source of illumination a few yards ahead. The shadows of the forests seem endless, the darkness close to swallowing the road on both sides, as the rain continues to hammer down.Â
After nearly an hour, the lights of the town below finally come into view. As Sylus turns onto the main road, his arms begin to tremble slightly.Â
Mephisto is about to say something, but he interrupts, "we're almost there."Â
Sylus manages to pulls up to the front of the urgent care clinic, stumbling a little as he dismounts. Mephisto grabs his arm to stabilize him, before gathering you in his arms.Â
Sylus nods at him to go in as Mephisto gives him one last look of worry as he carries you into the building, calling out, "she's safe with me now. You should hurry and head back now, thank you for all the help... I'm sorry."Â
"Don't worry about it." He suddenly remembers, "Oh right, I have one last favor to ask of you." "Yeah?" "If Y/N wakes up and asks about me, tell her I had to go home because of an emergency. Don't tell her anything yet." Hearing the sound of more vehicles pull up to the entrance, Mephisto seems to visibly deflate a little, then agrees. "Alright."Â
Taking one last look at the hospital, Sylus sits back heavily on his motorcycle, taking a moment to gather his breath before turning around.Â
The twins held his father's men off for as long as they could. At least he got you here.
Tall figures emerge from the cars, saying nothing. Some walk ahead as others follow behind, coming up to Sylus. He follows them back to a dark vehicle, and the car quickly starts and returns the way it came, taking him back to the villa on top of the mountain.Â
The car drives straight into the villa's garage, and Sylus belatedly wonders if they brought his motorcycle back with him too.Â
He gets out of the car, and the other people in the driver's seat and backseats follow suit. The last person walking in from the yard closes the garage door. The driver walks up to Sylus and bows to him.Â
Straightening up, he speaks with a condescending tone, a weary smile dancing across his face. "Sorry, young master. Your father's orders."Â
With that, he raises his leg and kicks Sylus in the stomach mercilessly.Â
9. Sunlight streams through the blinds when you wake up.Â
The first thing you notice is the smell of disinfectant in the hospital. Then, you crack open your eyes to see the pure white ceiling of the ward and the IV drip hanging from the medical pole in the corner of your vision.Â
Your first reaction is a smile. You weren't dreaming. You had a high fever, and Sylus really did bring you to the hospital.Â
"Y/N, you're awake!" It's your grandmother's voice. You turn your head to see her holding your hand, her expression a mixture of joy and worry. "You don't know how scared I was!" "I'm not dead" You speak comfortably, though your voice is still a little hoarse. "How could I not worry? Being unconscious for two full days is no small matter." Your grandma's brows are still furrowed. "I'm awake now, aren't I?" "Yes... It's good that you're finally awake." She pats your hand, saying nothing more, no scolding for getting caught in the rain.Â
Mephisto, standing nearby, quickly says, "now that you're awake, I'll go get some food. How's porridge? What kind do you want?" "Corn, mung bean, chicken, anything is fine." "Ok, I'll go now." "Wait," you call him as he's about to bolt out the door. "Where's Sylus?" His expression flickers with unease. Your grandma also shifts her gaze out the window. "He... had an emergency and went back home first."
"Oh..." You realize you've never heard Sylus mention his family before. Your voice trails off, but no emotion can be discerned.Â
Just then, a nurse comes in to inquire about your condition, asking you a laundry list of questions. A few minutes later, a doctor comes in to do a simple examination, and says there's no problems. You were free to leave after your IV drip, but with your condition, there was a possibility that the fever would come back. Since your grandma lived all the way up in the mountains, he recommended you stay in the hospital for another night for observation.
Your grandma immediately agrees, opting to stay on the safe side. You had no wish to stay in the hospital any longer; you hated the smell of disinfectant, and was tired of the white ceilings and sterile walls you've gotten used to in the city. But, you endure it to not worry her.Â
Before meeting Sylus, the only person you cared about in your life was your grandma. Now he is included too.Â
Mephisto returns right as the doctor leaves your room. You didn't have much of an appetite, but you haven't eaten anything for over a day now, so you force down half a bowl of mung bean porridge.Â
Evening falls, yet you don't feel sleepy at all. Probably from being knocked out for nearly two days.Â
Noticing your state, your grandma puts down her book and looks at you. "Want to chat for a bit?" she asks. "What do you want to talk about?" She smiles and says, "I saw you and Sylus were quite close last time. How far have things progressed between you two?" You think for a moment. "Still... kinda ambiguous I guess." "So he's interested in you, and you're interested in him too?" "I like him." You say it directly.
Your grandma is startled at first, then a look of relief washes over her face. "My precious granddaughter! It's like an iron tree has finally bloomed!"
"Shouldn't you be opposing this?" you ask. "Why not?" "I'm leaving after summer. I'm not going to live past thirty. There's no chance of a happy ending for the two of us."
Your grandma slowly takes a breath, then smiles. "Just because something doesn't have a good ending doesn't mean the process can't be beautiful. How can you choose not to start a beautiful relationship just because of an uncertain outcome? What era are we living in? Not every relationship has to be aimed at marriage. And of course, I'm happy that you've finally taken this step. As for Sylus... I'm also happy for him that he's willing to open his heart to someone."
For some reason, tears well up in your grandmother's eyes, but she quickly blinks them back. "Perhaps... Your appearance is God's only gift to him"
You don't know what Sylus has gone through, but hearing those words, you feel a small stab of pain. Before, when your grandmother said he was pitiful, you felt only curiosity. Now, you feel none. You only feel heavy-hearted.Â
That night, you remain low spirited, listless, almost lost in thought.Â
10. The next morning, you wake up unusually early, as if you couldn't wait to go back and see someone.Â
It's nearly noon when you return. After showering and washing your hair, you quickly eat lunch and grab Mesphisto to set out and find Sylus.Â
The road to Sylus' home is winding and sharp. Before each turn, the view in front is completely blocked. At each bend, you feel a small surge of anticipation rising in your chest, hoping to see him around the next corner.Â
Yet, you get all the way to the bridge in front of the large villa without seeing anyone.Â
Arriving at the front door, the gate swings open before you knock. A pair of twins stare at you with beady eyes. "Wait two minutes." The door closes in your face again.
Frowning, you keep time on the watch on your wrist. Two minutes pass. You look up to see Sylus standing in the doorway.Â
A flicker of surprise crosses your eyes, followed by a frown.
Sylus has a black eye and other abrasions on his face. His exposed arms and calves are overed in bruises. He doesn't hide his wounds, simply standing before you, battered and all. He looks disheveled, but seems unconcerned, even raising his sharp chin in greeting.Â
"Did you get into a fight?" you ask. He replies lazily. "It wasn't much of a fight." You tilt your head. "Indeed. A one-sided beating."
Your answer must have tickled his fancy. He chuckles, but the corners of his mouth turn down, his expression telling you: yes, not only was it one-sided, but he had gotten beaten up pretty badly. "Who hit you?" "Don't ask." "Tell me." Sylus' tone is indifferent. "Didnât you say you wanted me to keep you curious?â Your gaze hardens. âYouâve already made me curious enough.â
Sylus has no intention of telling you, simply stepping aside and saying, "Come in, don't you mind the sun?"
You don't press further, following him through the foyer and into the living room.Â
The house is huge, opulent, and decorated ostentatiously with a variety of metals, stones, and even jewels. You notice, however, a corner with a completely different style. Several glass display cases are filled with maps and antique globes. "Can you show me the your maps?" you ask. "You're interested in cartography?" "No." You reply without a beat. "But I'm curious about the things you're interested in." Your words successfully make Sylus laugh again. "Let's go then."
You're about to follow when you're tripped by a fluffy ball of fur. You look down to see a ragdoll cat, cream with luxurious fur, rubbing against your leg, meowing sweetly.Â
Hearing the meow, Sylus turns around to look at you. "It wants you to hold her." He supplies.
"I've never held a cat before." Your mother was allergic to animal fur, meaning you never had much contact with animals growing up. As you got older... well, you weren't curious about them either. You couldn't say whether you liked or disliked these pretty animals; you've never had the urge to touch them. But your eyes would unconsciously follow pet owners and their companions.Â
Seeing you standing there motionless, Sylus walks over and picks up the cat. "Her name is Dragon. Raise one hand and put it on your stomach."Â You do as you're told, palm facing inwards, as if you're rubbing your tummy. Sylus couldn't help but laugh. "Palm facing upwards, or else Dragon won't have anywhere to stand."Â
Your face shows a rare hint of embarrassment. Once you're in the right position, Sylus holds the cat, letting her hind legs rest on your hands and her front paws on your shoulders. He pats the cat's head gently, murmuring, "you keep those claws in."
You're startled by the deep voice.Â
You blink, then instinctively raise your other hand to place it on Dragon's back. Your attention is instantly drawn to the soft, cotton-like texture, almost as if you're holding a cloud.Â
Dragon sniffs your chin, then lightly licks you. Your eyes widen instantly. It's the first time Sylus has seen such an expression on your face, and he looks on with amusement.Â
Dragon licks you again, and your eyes widen even further. "It's... licking me?" "Yup." "Why is it licking me?" "To leave her scent on you, to assert dominance." He chuckles. You're a little confused. "Does it assert its dominance on everyone like this?" "Nope. Only you, and me." Sylus emphasizes the last two words slightly, his gaze fixed on you. His eyes seem to hold a whirlpool, and you feel yourself falling into it.Â
Your gaze doesn't last long, as Dragon shifts her attention to your neck, suddenly deciding to nip at it. You look at Sylus again, frowning.Â
"You never answered my question."Â "Hmm?" "Were you beaten up here?" "Yes." "Was it the other gang of kids?" You wouldn't think so... "No." "Was it..." you remember Mephisto's saying he had a family emergency. "Was it your family?" "No." He pauses for a second, then adds, "actually, you could say that."
You look at him. He's expressionless as you involuntarily frown.Â
Dragon takes the opportunity to leap out of your arms.
Finally, as the room dims, he speak up, softly. "Do you want to watch a movie?" You hum, neither in agreement nor objection. "I have a large collection" he replies, making his way to the couch.
You watch Dragon purr as she nudges at his legs. "You can choose; I don't have a strong preference for these kinds of things."
Sylus turns on the TV and clicks on the viewing history. Down the list, you see some familiar, highly-rated films, but the majority are documentaries and road movies.Â
Sylus flips through the films one by one: "The Most Dangerous Game", "Pretend It's a City," "BBC Earth", "Planet Earth", "South Pacific", "The Polar Regions", "Where the Trail Ends"...
"You have... very interesting tastes," you comment offhandedly. Sylus raises an eyebrow. "Not everyone can go to many places."Â He finally lands on "The Shawshank Redemption", and presses play.
11. The Shawshank Redemption tells the story of Andy, who, after being wrongfully imprisoned, meticulously plans his escape and eventual freedom.
Combining this story with the other collections in Sylus' home, you can't help but wonder: does he see a reflection of himself in the main character? Is he also trapped in something like a prison, unable to escape, confined without freedom?
If that's the case, then your first curiosity about him has an answerâ He said he wasn't like the wind, because the wind is free.
A piece of your chest collapses like a landslide during a storm, with boulders tumbling down and mud rushing through. This shouldn't be happening. The first day you met him, at first sight, you felt that he was like the wind, unconfined and limitless.
"Sylus." You turn to look at him, your voice hoarse. âYou said that not everyone can go to so many places. Does that include you?â Sylus seems unsurprised by your question. âYes,â he answers, face expressionless.
You already anticipated this answer, but you still wanted to hear him confirm this yourself before you move onto your subsequent question:Â
âThen where can you go?â Sylus barely moves his gaze as he calmly replies. âJust this mountain.â
A sharp pain shoots through your heart, followed by surprise. You thought he could at least go to the town; after all, he had taken you to the hospital just two days ago... Thinking of this, your pupils suddenly contract, gaze fixed on the wound on his cheek. âSoâŠâ You involuntarily clench your fists, pausing for half a second before continuing, âYou got hurt because you took me to the hospital, out of this mountain, right?â âYes.â âWhy?â
You desperately want the answer, but not out of curiosity. You simply wanted to know out of concern for him.
But Sylus simply replies, âDonât ask. Didnât you say that I have to keep you curious until you completely fall for me?â You're momentarily stunned, only then remembering what you had said in the beginning. Seeing your expression change, Sylus smiles and continues. "When that day comes, or when you leave, I'll tell you everything."
You don't give him a reply, your eyes unfocused, as if deep in thought. After a while, a shadow of gloom crosses your gaze, as if you've made your mind up about something.
"Then I'll ask you one last question: Can I help you?" Compared to this relationship, you believe his freedom is more important. He's like the wind, so he should be free.
"No." Sylus speaks with utmost certainty, adding, "I'm absolutely certain."
The moment he utters the first word, you feel your single pillar of hope crumble.Â
The way you were before, you thought you had made peace with the world, allowing everything to happen the way it was, and accepting it with equanimity. But with Sylus, you find that his situation was the one thing you can't seem to be ok with. How can someone like him be trapped here?
You're certain that he'd be the most outstanding not matter where he goes. Yet, he can only stay away, deep in these mountains. He was born with the the most magnificent wings, yet is robbed of the ability to fly, trapped in this cage.
How could this be⊠Even if his cage is decorated in gold, it's still... just a cage.
You think that if Sylus was given a choice, he'd prefer to be the most average, unexceptional person if he could live a peaceful, ordinary life.Â
But why can't he escape?
You can't think of any logical reason why he's trapped here. You also can't understand why he's so certain you couldn't help him.
As if sensing your doubt, Sylus speaks again.Â
"Don't try to do anything for me, lest they do something to you. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me." He looks at you quietly, continuing with a low voice, "Especially not you." You're even more puzzled. "What could they do to me?" "It's the mountains, the terrain is complicated, and there's no cameras. It's easy to do anything." He doesn't even mention the supernatural aspect, but it's already clear enough.
Your eyes widen as you frown, clearly shocked. âAre you sure they dare to go this far?â As if recalling something, Sylus' eyes darken. âIâm sure.â
The room is enclosed, yet you suddenly feel a cold wind rush in.
Your heart feels as if it's been torn open by this wind, your entire chest filling with an unbearable chill. Yet even this biting wind doesn't dispel the heavy, oppressive clouds that blot out the sky. Your whole world turns a suffocating, leaden gray.
You don't want to accept this reality, yet you have no choice but to.
You look at Sylus. After a long time, your gaze gradually returns to the calm they had in the beginning. âI understand,â you murmur, lowering your eyes. You appear calm on the outside, but it hurts to breathe.Â
âButâŠâ You remember your grandmother's words, smiling bitterly as you say, âYou shouldnât be someone whoâs only meant to stay here.â
12. It is in this moment that you realize with a start: something is off with Sylus' emotions. You, a bystander, are feeling this unbearable sorrow, while he acts as if nothing's wrong. Just now, he directly tore open his greatest wound for you to see, yet his expression remains terrifyingly calm, smiling even.Â
Suddenly, you recall the first day you met him, when you stood on the edge of the cliff and offhandedly mentioned that it was a good place to jump off of. He wasn't surprised at all, humming in agreement.
A terrifying possibility surfaces in your mind. Your expression hardens.
"Sylus." Your throat tightens, and you swallow before continuing. "The day I met you, you were standing on the edge of the cliff. What were you thinking?" Sylus' eyes darken for a second before letting out a slow exhale. "About jumping." He admits lowly. Just as you thought... "Then... why... didn't you?"
The words leave your mouth before you have time to regret it. In truth, you have no right to question him. You were also indifferent to life and death, vowing to fully respect others' choices. You know very well that death was a release for some people. At long as they have carefully thought it through, you wouldn't try to dissuade them. Even if you loved them. Even if that person was your grandmother.
Those who truly wish to die cannot be persuaded. They will simply find a time and place no one can stop them and make the choice without hesitation. The reason someone hasn't taken that step means they still have some hesitation, or fear death.Â
You're sure Sylus is not the latter. Then the reason he hesitated... must be that something has brought him peace. You want to know what that something was. A strong intuition tells you... it has something to do with you.
"I realized it was too worthless to go like this."Â Sylus speaks, his expression serene, his gaze falling on you like the first, thin rays of morning light.
He turns to face the screen, the light and colors constantly shifting on his face. Sometimes bright, sometimes dark, but his eyes seem completely undisturbed by the outside world, like a dense forest shrouded in perpetual fog.
"I always felt... I had to wait a little longer, that I was waiting for something that would make me feel that my existence isn't in vain." A faint flicker finally appears in his eyes. Your voice is slightly hoarse. "You waited this entire time?" He turns slowly to look at you. His expression is indifferent, but the gaze in his eyes are very deep. "I found it."Â
You feel a slight tug at your heart. After a long pause, you let out a dry laugh. "Don't say it's me." "It's you." he says it so frankly.
Your heart clenches, as if his gaze pierces straight through your chest, into the deepest crevices of your heart.Â
"There's things that I want to tell you later." Sylus looks at you, his tone soft. "I thought I lost the right to love someone the moment I was born, until you appeared before me." He smiles. "Meeting you, maybe my life has been worth it after all." His gentle voice is like a knife cutting through stone and ice, striking your eardrums with every word.Â
You're stunned.Â
Your grandmother's regretful words echo in your mind. You finally understand an inkling of what she meant. For Sylus, his life in the mountains are shackles, a burden, or maybe even irony.Â
But you are different.Â
You don't belong here. You wouldn't, can't, be trapped by him, not by your free-spirited heart, or by your inherent virtues. Otherwise, no matter what you looked like, Sylus probably would've treated you the same as all the other girls in town.Â
Meanwhile, he could let himself sink into despair at will.
This is probably why your grandma had knew from the beginning that something was bound to happen between the two of you. It was inevitable that he would fall for you. But it seems... that they (and you yourself) had overestimated you as well.
You take a deep breath.
"Don't tell me you're going to jump off that cliff as soon as I leave." "No." Sylus smiles. "If you hadn't appeared, I probably wouldn't have lasted another season. But now, I think I can continue to live for a few more years." You can't describe the feeling when you heard this. "Promise me?" "I promise." He laughs. "Just don't think of me once you're gone."
13. After much convincing and hedging, Sylus later teaches you how to ride his motorcycle.
He pulls out the key and holds onto one of the handlebars. "Get on first." You obey, hopping onto the seat, your feet dangling off the ground. "Hold the handlebars and straighten it."
The bike is quite heavy as you get used to the weight of steering.
"These are the front brakes," Sylus explains, pointing to the brake lever on the right handlebar grip, "and the rear brake is by your foot. You'll mainly rely on the front ones, and the rear when going at slow speeds. But it's a delicate balance, especially if you're going at higher speeds." He moves closer as he speaks. "Scooch up a little, I'll show you how to use them."
You release your hands as Sylus leans in from beside you , reaching for the right handlebar, bringing you even closer together. You can smell his scent.
"Position your hand like this so you can grip the brake easily." After demonstrating, he releases and pulls his hand back. "You try." You follow his lead and squeeze. "Good. Now looks here," he points to the throttle next. "This is the throttle. You can think of it as the accelerator. Twist it here to move the bike, but don't twist it too hard at the start, or the bike will lurch forward. This also controls the speed; twist it lightly for a slow bike, and twist it all the way to maximum speed." You nod in understanding.
"Do you mind if I touch you?" Sylus suddenly asks. You raise an eyebrow, slightly incredulous. "Mind what? Haven't you manhandled me plenty already?" Sylus lips curl into a slight smile as he lightly taps the handlebars with two fingers. "Look here."
You look down to see him raise his hand, then lower it, his palm covering the back of your own. Though you've held hands before, the moment his palm touches the your hand, you still feel a jolt of electricity. Every nerve in your body seems to tremble.
"Don't get too distracted." Sylus' deep voice falls beside your ear, his breath brushing against the back of your neck. Your eyes snap back into focus. "Watch carefully." His breath sweeps over your ears again. You want to raise your hand, as if to itch it, but you refrain, his hand still on yours. Sylus holds your hand and slowly turns the handle.
"Try it yourself." He withdraws his hand, but doesn't pull back completely, still leaning beside you.
You go through the motions twice.
"Let me turn on the ignition so you can feel it." He inserts the key and reminds you, "Remember to turn it slowly like how I showed you." "Got it." You slowly turn the throttle and feel the bike start. The speed is quite slow, enough for Sylus to walk beside you.
Feeling adventurous, you increase the speed a bit, leaning forward into the bike. Sylus beings to jog. Soon, you reach a dead end, having to either turn around or stop.
"Try turning," Sylus calls.
You do so without any hesitation, but as someone with no experience and wobbly in a straight line, you immediately fall off. Fortunately, you weren't going too fast. You react quickly, bracing yourself on your feet. Sylus appears beside you in a flash, pulling the bike back.
"You're going a little too slow; the slower you go, the harder it is to maintain balance." "I'll go faster then." You frown, taking the handlebars from him, ready to try again. "Wait," Sylus stops you. "Let me take you for a couple of laps first."
Without waiting for your reply, he lifts his long legs to sit behind you, hands covering your own again, the way he did during the demonstration. You're stunned. In this position, you're completely enveloped in his arms, as if you're being hugged from behind.
"Let's go." Sylus doesn't give you much time to adjust. He twists the handlebars, turns the corner, and takes you on two laps around the field.
The wind blows from the front, lifting your hair. It's possible that it's blocking his view, so he releases one hand to brush your hair behind your ear, the movement so natural as if you are longtime friends, or even lovers.
The breeze is cool, but you feel a restless heat. âHold on tight, Iâm gonna let go.â You blink, then hum in agreement.
Perhaps your voice is drowned out by the wind. Sylus brings his lips even closer to your ear and asks, "Did you hear me?" His voice is incredibly magnetic, deep and resonant. âYou can let go now.â Despite your erratic heartbeat, your voice is steady.
Sylus doesn't completely remove his hand, but places it to the side as before, so he could control the direction and speed in case of danger.
Riding faster definitely makes it easier to maintain balance. You feel the handlebars are lighter and turning more smoothly. You successfully complete a lap around the yard.
âKeep going.â Seeing that you're almost ready, Sylus suggests, "Wanna try riding on the actual road?"Â
The roads outside are all winding mountain roads; even the slightest misstep could send you tumbling down a cliff. Even experienced drivers have to be extremely careful here, yet here he is, letting someone who's only been riding for less than half an hour attempt it.
You brake and turn your head. Sylus leans back for a split second as you turn, otherwise you definitely would have kissed.
Your gaze flickers as you realize why he had turned back, your mind blanking for a moment before remembering your words. "Do you want me to die?" "I'm here, what are you afraid of?" Sylus maintains his lounging posture, releasing his hands and bracing himself against the back. His voice carries a lazy, half-smiling tone.
"I'm not afraid of death, but I don't want to die now." A clear smile appears on Sylus' lips. "So little confidence in me?" You scoff. "After all, you're keeping secrets from me." "It doesn't matter." Sylus speaks slowly and deliberately, "Then I'll die with you."
His voice trails off naturally, carrying an indescribable weariness, like amusement, or nonchalance, or perhaps a calm indifference to life and death.
You realize with a shudder that perhaps he isn't just joking. He is truly willing to die with you. That deep, languid voice involuntarily echoes in your mind again. You can clearly feel your heart contract â then pound wildly.
14. "Boss!"
Sylus turns his head, seeing Luke and Kieran jogging up the hill towards him, their wings momentarily coming out of hiding to help them reach the peak of the mound quicker than their otherwise human legs.Â
"Just now, Y/N ran into some of creatures in the N109 gang on the road! She seems to have hit their leader at some point, so two of his underlings tried to stop her from leaving, and she got into a scuffle with them again." Luke is nearly out of breath as he is the first to approach the resting halfling.Â
"We were cutting grass in the nearby field when I heard them say once "His Highness" is no longer bed-ridden, they'll send more of them out to find her."
Sylus' expression turns cold. "Thanks." He utters the single word, having already taken several steps forward.
"Boss!" Kieran catches up to him, daring to grab his arm. "You know those demons plays dirty. You've already crossed paths with them because of Mephisto before. In your current condition, are you sure you want to completely antagonize them because of this girl?"
Sylus frowns, glancing at the hand gripping him. "Let go."
Kieran refuses, still clamping down tightly. "I know you like her. I've had this feeling for a while, that you wouldn't stand by idly. But please, don't be impulsive. She's only here for a little bit. Don't let someone who's only staying here for two months cause chaos for you in the future. She has to leave eventually. Just let her leave sooner."
"I don't want her to leave early." Sylus turns to look at the twins without a moment's hesitation.Â
Besides, he knows that you won't leave early because of this. He's only known you for a few weeks, but based on that lone, he's certain that you aren't someone who fears trouble. In fact, he'd dare to say you're more rebellious than you initially let on. He doesn't tell the twins this.
Kieran is taken aback by his words. When he speaks again, his tone is incredulous. "Boss, you really like her that much? She's only been here for days!"
Compared to their lifetimes, your presence in Sylus' life is nothing more than a drop of water, yet he's already willing to be punished because of you, and to go against the N109 gang? What would happen next once he spends more time with you?
"Are you really going to let yourself get so deeply involved?" Luke presses, voice rising. "She'll leave gracefully while you'll be stuck in all sorts of trouble! Why bother?" "Are you really going to let yourself get so deeply involved?" Sylus laughs. The twins freeze.
Having known him for decades, they've rarely seen him smile. But now, not only is he smiling, but his eyes hold a tenderness they've never seen before.
"I never thought of moving on," Sylus says with a smile. "I will always love her. Until the day I die."
15. Despite your mundane life up in the mountains, summer passes too quickly for your liking. On an otherwise sweltering late summers day at sea-level, Sylus brings you to a special place.
Stepping out of the mist between tree branches, you arrive at a clearing.Â
The trees are surrounded by rolling grasslands;Â a lush green expanse as far as the eye could see, with an exceptionally quiet atmosphere. Your stop in your tracks. It looks even more magnificent than the scenes in movies.
"How did you find this place?" You ask, breathlessly. "When I don't know what to do with myself, I wander aimlessly around the mountain." Sylus replies. "One day, I was walking and walking... until I ended up here." "Have you explored the entire mountain?" "More or less. There's no place in this mountain I don't know."
The expression on his face when he says these words carry a hint of melancholy. You immediately understand. It isn't something he is proud of; simply proof of his captivity.
"Do you think anyone else has been here?" You try to change the subject. "Of course." "Who else could have found this place?"
Throughout the journey, you haven't seen a trace of humankind. You and Sylus waded through water, climbed trees, and ducked under overgrowth to venture this far into the deep forests. Very few people are as fearless as Sylus.
Sylus simply laughs. "Guess how these trees came to be?"
Only then do you realize that the species of cypress trees here are an introduced specimen, originally native to the Mediterranean.Â
"This tree is so big, it must be many decades old..." you murmur in appreciation as you lean against the twisting trunk. "When were cypress introduced here?" "They say... that there was once a group of highly educated youth who returned from studying abroad. Well, it was more like wealthy young people experiencing life than getting an education, but maybe one of them brought back cypress seeds and planted them here."Â "Then he must have had quite an adventurous spirit." You remark. "How was he not afraid of getting lost and dying up here?"
As you speak, a breeze picks up behind you, the tassel-like flowers of the cypress swinging in the wind, carpeting the ground with small white petals.Â
Sylus looks up at the tree, its white blossoms falling like a mist. A fleeting look of sorrow crosses his eyes, but it quickly transforms into a faint smile.
"Do you know the meaning of cypress in flower language?" He asks. You shake your head. "What?" "Waiting for love in despair." Your breath hitches. Both you and Sylus had waited for each other in despair.Â
"However," Sylus lowers his eyes. "There's a source that adds another sentence before that." He turns to look at you. "Falling in love at first sight."Â
Your eyes widen slightly. It takes you a moment to find your words. "Didn't you say you didn't fall in love with me at first sight?" Sylus chuckles. He may not have fallen in love with you at first sight, but that one glance was enough to seal his fate. But when he speaks, he simply says, "It's about the language of flowers, not about me."
You don't reply, looking up at the huge cypress tree.Â
The breeze continues to pick up, petals fluttering down before your eyes like rain, mirroring the melancholy, pure white snow that falls on your heart. You think that from now on, every time you see a cypress tree, you'd remember this day, and Sylus who brought you here. Your heart clenches, the memory of the night Sylus admitted his situation to you.Â
"Don't think of me," he had said. But...
Cypress trees were everywhere in Linkon City. There, due to the warmer climate, the flowers bloomed in April. From now on, as long as you stayed in Linkon City, every day in April, you'd think of him. The longing wouldn't be confined to April. The boy, as free as the wind, would forever burn brightly in your memory.
16. Returning from the cypress grove, you feel as if you've been beaten; your whole body aches, from your muscles to your bones. If it were just you and your grandma, you'd stay in bed for a few days, but during dinner, you hear your grandma casually remark, "It's already August." August... You and Sylus don't have much time left.
The next day, you decide to go to Sylus' house instead. The consequences of going to his place is for your body to ache even more.
Between playing games with Mephisto and the twins, as well as Sylus deciding lying on top of you is more comfortable than the couch or bed, you think, perhaps, going out wouldn't be so tiring after all.Â
After a riveting game of dodgeball, you, freshly showered, lay limp in Sylus' embrace. Seeing a white butterfly land outside the French windows in the twilight, you say, "let's go catch butterflies tomorrow."
"I'll make a butterfly net tonight," Sylus leans down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Isn't catching them with a net pointless?" You frown. "Then let me ask you, what do you get out of catching butterflies?"
You think for a minute, unable to come up with an answer. "I've never caught one before... but if I had to say... it's the sense of accomplishment when you get one?" "Catching them doesn't necessarily bring a sense of accomplishment," Sylus replies. You don't understand. "What do you mean?" "Catching them with your hands will get your hands covered in powder, and the butterflies are likely to die or be maimed. Do you want the butterflies to die in your hands?"
Hearing his words, you let out a chuckle. Sylus pinches your chin and lifts it to meet your gaze. "What are you laughing at?" You don't express it out loud, but Sylus already knows what you were about to say.
"I know, from a biological standpoint, butterflies don't possess emotional cognition. Keeping them until they die naturally isn't cruel. Although I feel sorry for depriving them of their freedom, I don't feel too much guilt. I'm not the saint you imagine, someone who sees all beings as equal, nor am I some great philanthropist. Many of the things I've done that you consider benevolent are merely to satisfy my personal desires. I don't have a strong sense of morality." He shakes his head.
Even after his entire spiel, you still think he's a very good person. Whether it's out of selfishness or anything else, only a person with a good heart would be so kind, even in their selfishness. Moreover, a strong sense of morality felt restrictive when it came to Sylus. His way of thinking... it makes you comfortable around him.Â
He's truly an undeniable person. You admit, it's impossible not to fall in love with him.
"No need," you say with a smile. "Didn't you think it was pretty?" "I do, but that doesn't mean I like it. Since I don't like it, I don't have the idea of turning it into a specimen to collect."
You turn to face Sylus, your gaze suddenly deepening. Sensing you're about to say something important, he waits quietly.
After a while, you carefully choose your words. "I don't think I've told you directly, but I don't like anything else besides you." "I know," he replies. You're surprised. "You know? Did my grandma tell you?" "She didn't tell me, but you're the one who said that the world is utterly boring and I'm the only thing you're curious about."
"Then you still don't know." You sigh before continuing. "I suppose you can call me someone with a personality flaw. I said I don't like anything but you, not now, but starting from when I was nine until I met you this summer."Â
Hearing this, Sylus freezes. He thought you were simply indifferent. You continue calmly. "Before meeting you, for 10 years, I never knew what anticipation or happiness felt like."
"Sylus, do you know what I thought you looked like the first day I saw you?" You suddenly counter with a question. He takes a deep breath. "Didn't you say I looked like the wind?"Â "Not that." "Then what else?" You stare at him intently before finally saying, "Like a god."
"So, Sylus-" you raise your hand to cup his cheek, "To me, you're not like a god." "You are my god."
Something falls heavily into Sylus' eyes. In this world, trees are plentiful, but gods are rare. Will his bird meet another god? It will. It most certainly will. He tells himself this, but his heart tightens, his throat bobbing uncontrollably.
You know he wouldn't feel good hearing your confession, but it seems that only by telling him this could you persuade him that even after you leave, you can always return.
Perhaps this is somewhat selfish. Your existence, while a comfort to him, is another constraint you put on him. If you didn't leave in the first place, you feared he wouldn't be able to end his own life, perhaps living a life of hardship for your sake, just like your grandma.Â
You overheard by accident a conversation between your doctor and psychiatrist when you were thirteen that your grandma had tried, and failed to commit suicide three times because of you.
To ensure you felt loved, your grandma lived on, despite her own intense wishes to let go of the world that no longer had anything left for her.Â
You tried to fake being healed, but your grandma saw through your act each time. Finally, you thought of ending your own life to relieve your grandma of her burden, but after learning of your thoughts, she told you:
"Suicide will send you to hell. If you go to hell because of me, I'll hate myself."
You didn't want Sylus to become another grandma. So you had made up your mind. Either you die first, or you die with him. You'll go to hell together.Â
"Sylus, I only feel the meaning of life when I'm with you, so are you still going to push me away?" You look at him. He stares back at you, eyes red and swollen. You speak again. "It took me ten years to meet you. Do you think I can hold on for another ten years?" Hearing your words, Sylus' eyes widen for a moment. "Yes!"
He seems provoked by the meaning behind your words, his expression tensing. "You can definitely hold on for the next ten years! You're only eighteen! You've just started your adult life, so of course..." "Sylus Qin!" You shout, interrupting him.
You don't want to hear him say idealistic things, that your health will be fine, or that you'll meet someone else. You only want him.
"Y/N!" Sylus calls you out too, almost as if scolding you. But just as quickly, his voice softens. "Do you still remember the meaning of the Cypress tree?" You do.Â
Waiting for love in despair.Â
âIâve waited and waited, but you havenât reached that point yet. Just wait a little longer, and youâll find a god who will always protect you... Just a little longerâŠâ Sylus' voice is so hoarse, as if he's reached his limit. His eyes are bloodshot, filled with a desperate plea.
You've never seen him like this before. A man as carefree as the wind shouldn't be like this. Ah. So it still won't work? He still insists on pushing you away.
You can't bear to ask him your last question: what if you couldn't wait any longer? Even more, seeing him like this, you can't tell him the words: I want to die with you.
"Then just pretend I..." your voice trembles as you whisper. "Pretend I said nothing today." Sylus' voice is equally hoarse as he says, "Okay."
No matter if you could hold on for the next ten years or not, as long as you don't decay in this mountain here with him, there was still a glimmer of hope.Â
You take a deep breath, open your eyes, and get up from Sylus' arms. "I'm going to catch butterflies."
Sylus watches you walk to the center of the flowerbed. Butterflies flutter around you, your eyes clear and light, like a pool of spring water. With each one that flies by, a delicate shadow flashes across your eyes. You tilt your head back, unaware that a blue butterfly had landed on your shoulder. It rests there, fluttering its wings slowly. The scene is beautiful. Serene. As if nothing just happened at all, no fervor, no heart-wrenching pain.Â
That afternoon, the two of you catch many butterflies, in all sorts of colors. But you don't intend on depriving them of their freedom. As dusk creeps up the treetops, and the sky is tinged with varying shades of orange and red, you release the butterflies back into the forest together. You watch as the dozens of butterflies fly out of their cage. A spectacular sight.Â
You can't help but think, if only Sylus can also be freed like them.Â
In your life though, this moment was enough. More than enough.Â
17. Your last night in the mountains is another rainy evening.Â
Sylus holds an umbrella and walks you home. The raindrops pound relentlessly above your heads, and you can't help but think that the sound reminds you of fireworks that echo all night long outside your window on new years eve.Â
You stop and look down at the raindrops splashing on the ground. You remember a phrase from a poem: rain is the fireworks of the gods.
People use fireworks to bid farewell to the past year. Is this rain a farewell from the mountains?
"What's wrong?" Sylus asks, stopping with you. You look up. "Sylus, can you walk with me in the rain one more time?" You hold out your hand. "This time, it's my turn to invite you."
Sylus readily agrees, tossing the umbrella aside and grabbing your hand, running into the rain.
There's a feeling of exhilaration, running across the endless grasslands of the mountains through the rain. With the sound of Sylus' laughter, it's almost as if you weren't about to part, but rather, eloping hand in hand.Â
The rain continues to fall, soaking the entire forest.  Sylus doesn't mind the rain getting into his eyes, his gaze remains fixed on your figure. "My girl, please, keep running forward like this" he thinks silently.
The mountain rain shrouds the forest in a verdant haze. It's hard to make out anything distinct in the haze, yet you still manage to find the white house.Â
Your pace slows. "We're almost there," Sylus calls. You don't reply. "I want to ask you for something," Sylus continues. You stop. "What?" "Your camera." A glint flashes in your eyes. "You won't even let me keep a single photo of you?" "Didn't you delete it?" You pause. "I'll get it for you." You release Sylus' hand and take a few steps forward, pushing open the door to go inside.
Sylus doesn't follow you in, instead leaning against the wall, letting the rain soak him. A moment later, you remerge, holding an umbrella.
"Here." You hand him the camera and the umbrella together. Sylus takes them, then takes a step towards you, holding the umbrella over his head.
The two of you stand under the umbrella once again. Very close.Â
You look up. "Do you want to talk for a little longer, or should I go now?" Sylus smiles. "Go home early, don't want you catching a fever again." "That's all?" Your expression is somber. "You have something to tell me, don't you?" "Live well, eat well, go out more, make friends, be careful, don't get sick, don't do anything to hurt yourself., and enjoy your life to its fullest." "And..." He pauses for a moment, "...don't think of me anymore."
Your gaze darkens, as you remain silent.
Sylus doesn't say anything more. The only sound is of the rain hitting the umbrella. It's pouring, with the visibility close to zero in the distance. "We won't see each other again, hmm?" Sylus asks again.
But it's not a question. He's telling you that even if you come back in the future, you shouldn't meet again.
You feel as if a knife just stabbed you in the heart. The cold, damp air rushes in, making it hard to breathe. "Yes, we won't see each other again." You try to force a smile, struggling to keep your voice even. Sylus laughs. At his laughter, your eyes instantly redden, but you still desperately try to hold back your tears.Â
How can you cry when Sylus laughs?Â
"Sylus, you're such an asshole." Despite knowing he isn't as nonchalant as he appeared, you still complain, resenting his ability to not show even a hint of reluctance, his refusal to say any longing words, or even to just call your name again.
"Then forget about this asshole."
A sudden pang of pain shoots through your heart, and your pulse seems to stop for a few seconds. You feel tears freely run down your cheek.
Sylus, seeing you struggle to hold back, couldn't stop his own eyes from reddening. He doesn't want you to suffer too much, nor does he want you to see the heartache and pain that was about to overflow from his own eyes.Â
While he could still control his voice, he says, "I'm leaving. Since we won't see each other again, this is goodbye."Â Leaving you with this last sentence, he doesn't linger for a second longer.
Without the shelter of an umbrella, the rain drowns him. He couldn't tell if his eyes were filled with rain or tears. In his flooded vision, your figure quickly disappears into the depths of the mist.
You suddenly feel unsteady, your body swaying, forcing you to hold onto the wall to stand as if you're a piece of glass about to topple and shatter. You feel as if you're drowning, unable to breathe, a suffocating pain surging through you like a tidal wave. A pain you couldn't bear, a pain so intense you wanted to die in that moment.Â
If only you knew it would hurt this much... You'd still want to meet him.Â
You crouch down, umbrella long forgotten beside you, crying in the rain, your whole body trembling.Â
On the mountain path, swallowed by the torrential rain, another person, like you, cried until he couldn't move, standing motionless in the rain for a long, long time.Â
There was only a bend in the road between you. If it wasn't for the pounding rain, surely, you would have heard each other's cries. But there are no "if's" in the world.Â
18. The rain stops after nightfall. By morning, only the piles of fallen leaves by the roadside are still damp with rainwater. When you come downstairs with your luggage, the post-rain dampness in the air has evaporated, the sun blazing overhead. Summer isn't over, but from now on, there will be no more Sylus in your summers. But what kind of summer is it without Sylus?
After having your last lunch with your grandma, the driver arranged to pick you up arrives.
"Grandma, I'm leaving." "No rush, dear. Come here, let me see you one last time."
Your grandma takes your hand, stroking the back of it gently again and again, carefully looking into your face as if trying to memorize its lines. You suddenly realize your grandma has truly aged. In the past, she's never shown such reluctance to part.Â
You think perhaps she's worried about you.
"Grandma, I'll be ok." "I know, I just want to see you one more time." You hold her hands in your own. "Linkon City isn't that far. If you miss me, just call, and I'll come back to see you." "Alright." She gives you a smile and pats your hands. "Let me know once you reached school." "Okay."
You get up, pulling your suitcase with you, and head out of the living room. Your grandma, on her wheelchair, follows you to the front door, watching you get into the car.
After you are settled in your seat, you roll down the window and wave goodbye. She lingers at the door for a while, even after the car has disappeared.Â
The scenery outside your window recedes like the tide.Â
You gaze intently at the vast expanse of mountains and forests, your eyes unblinking, as if trying to imprint every tree deeply into your mind. After driving for a while, the vehicle beings a steep descent. The speed isn't fast, but you feel your heart plummet.
Goodbye, Azure mountains. Never again, Sylus Qin.
The sun hangs overhead, but the wind blowing from the depths of the forest are somehow cool, as if soaked with the chill of yesterday's rain.Â
19. The old lady stands alone, gazing far into the distance, her thoughts drifting.Â
"Grandma," a clear voice sounds from in front of her. She turns her head and calls out with a smile. "Sylus." "Are you here to see Y/N off?" she asks.
Sylus neither confirms nor denies the question, simply handing over the umbrella he's carrying to her.
"I'm returning her umbrella." "I see."Â
His goal is achieved, but he shows no sign of leaving.
"Is there anything else?" Your grandma asks. "I'd like to ask you for a favor." Sylus reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, handing it over to her. "This is my phone number. If Y/N comes back to see you in the future, please let me know. I..." He pauses. "It's best if we don't see each other again." Your grandma sighs, "Alright," and takes the paper.Â
Looking down at the string of numbers, she seems lost in thought for a moment.Â
"Sylus?" She looks up. "I also have something I'd like to ask of you." "Please, go ahead." "No rush." She holds up the piece of paper. "I'll call you." "Alright. Please call me anytime if you need anything."Â "Thank you, Sylus."Â
Your grandma's expression isn't a casual thank you, but a heartfelt, genuine gratitude.
A gust of wind blows by. Feeling the coolness, Sylus says, "It's chilly today, grandma. You should go back inside." The old lady nods. "If there's nothing else, I'll get going now."
Waving goodbye to your grandma, Sylus returns home. Having heard his footsteps, Dragon is already waiting for him, perched by the shoe stands.Â
Sylus doesn't stop, only leaning over to pat her head as he passes.Â
Dragon follows him, meowing and weaving through his legs as he moves. Seeing he isn't stopping to pick her up as usual, she runs ahead, lying down to demand petting in a rare display of affection.Â
Seeing his path blocked, Sylus finally stops. For some reason, the pent-up emotions suddenly become unbearable.Â
A headache from staying up all night tears at his nerves, accompanied by a long, sharp ringing in his ears. Hunger unable to be satisfied by food claws at his abdomen, as if he's being stabbed with knives. The pain is so intense he like he might collapse at any moment. He can only lean against the wall, slowly sliding down as he waits for the pangs to subside.Â
The stomach is truly an organ of emotions. He hasn't experienced such cravings in a very long time. But even the intense physical pain doesn't mask the ache in his heart. The two entwine and coexist, making him feel like he's dying.Â
Dragon seems to sense her owner's discomfort, gently nuzzling against his hand, and occasionally letting out a soft meow, as if worried. "Don't worry, Dragon. I won't die." Sylus says, reaching out to run his fingers through her fur. His lips are pale, yet he smiles. "I promised her I'd keep living for a few more years."
Sunlight streams in through the window, casting shadows on the white wall. Sylus sits in the corner, watching the light climb higher and higher until it stops, turning a pale gold, and gently fades.
As the sky begins to dim, he finally struggles to his feet and heads upstairs. On his bedside drawer sits the camera you gave him.Â
After a quick shower, he lies down on the bed and picks up the camera. He hasn't turned it on yet.Â
Clicking into the photo album, he sees the first photo is of himself - the same one you originally said you had deleted. He chuckles.
Scrolling down, there's a few selfies of you. You thought he wanted your camera because he didn't want you to leave with the photo of him. In reality, he wanted it for the photos of you.Â
Staring at the screen, Sylus hesitates for a long time before raising his hand to gingerly touch the face on the screen. "Y/N, I will always remember your face," he says to himself. "They say, that you can pray to cypress trees. Though it never granted my wish to leave this mountain, I'll keep praying for you. My only wish is that you find happiness in your life." Sylus' eyes darken, as if he's thinking of something. "I will love you forever, but don't think of me anymore."Â
As the echoes of his words fade into the room, Sylus doesn't say anything anymore, simply staring into the face in the camera until a low battery warning pops up onto the screen.Â
He turns to the window. The night is already deep. There are no stars in the sky tonight. "Goodnight, Y/N." He puts down the camera.Â
19. From that day on, Sylus goes to the cypress grove every afternoon, returning at dusk, and playing with Dragon. It becomes his routine.Â
In November at Linkon City, the weather turns cool, with hints of winter already visible. The wind blowing through the air instead reminds you of a cold, early spring.Â
You pause, paintbrush in hand, turning to look at the swaying shadows of trees against your window. You walk over, but not to close it. Instead, you lean outside, letting the breeze caress your face. Only after the wind subsides do you return to your easel.Â
Since coming back to Linkon City, you spent most of your time painting in your dorm, depicting the same person in different scenes- the boy on the mountain, as free as the wind.Â
The person who wanted you to forget him, but you couldn't. How could you forget? A mere breeze reminds you of him. The wind is everywhere, ubiquitous.
And not just the wind, but rain showers, a single star in the night sky, a cypress tree, yet to bloom on campus, even any painting in the school corridors - everything reminds you of him, and how he is trapped on that mountain.
You couldn't forget him, and you don't want to.Â
When the feelings are intense enough, they become physiological. When you saw him, you would smile unconsciously, and seeing him walk away made your heart ache. Now, when you can't see him, every sleepless night turns the moon into his image.Â
You start suffering from insomnia the first day back in Linkon City. Whenever you couldn't sleep, you take out the book of poems you took from Sylus' room, and read it over and over again, letting the words take you back to him. After reading all 520 of them, you'd usually fall alseep.
The only thing that kept you sharp was your search for a sorcerer, a fortune-teller, someone who could tell you why Sylus was trapped on the mountain and how to save him.Â
With something to do, you feel that each day isn't as unbearable as before, except... You missed him terribly.Â
Your longing is especially intense the day a typhoon hits.Â
Typhoons are quite common in summer, less so in spring and autumn. The name of this typhoon is "Ourea", god of the mountains. You wonder if there was a deity of Azure mountains, and if it was looking down on you and Sylus too.Â
The typhoon hits at 3pm. Dark clouds cover the afternoon sky, the winds howling like the roar of wild beasts. Trees snap, and windows rattle.Â
You stand by the window, silently gazing outside.Â
Under the ravaging of the rain, the scene before you nearly looks like the end of the world, yet you feel no fear. You almost wish it is actually the end of the world. If that day was today, you only wish for a chance to make a phone call. You want to hear Sylus' voice again and tell him "Sylus, I'm in Linkon City, battered by the wind, and I miss you so much."
20. By the end of November, the temperature on the Azure mountains is already nearing freezing. The days are getting shorter, the forest quieter. Leaving the cypress grove, Sylus rubs his frozen hands, feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket.
It's an unknown number. Sylus knows who it is.
He answers the phone, an elderly woman's voice coming through. "Sylus, it's me, Y/N's grandma." "Hello." "Sylus, can you come over tomorrow? I need your help with something." "Ok, grandma. I'll see you tomorrow."
Sylus heads over to your grandma's house after breakfast. Upon seeing him, she tells him what she needs help with. "It's nothing, really, I just wanted to ask you to take me down the main road to that bridge."
Sylus knows which bridge she's referring to, of course. "I'll take you there."
With the cold, it takes nearly an hour along the dirt path. When the paved sidewalk ends, your grandma turns to Sylus. "Don't take me in, just tell me how to get there." "There's quite a few forks in the road." Sylus kneels down in front of the wheelchair. "I'll carry you over." Your grandma hesitates, then put her arms around Sylus' shoulders. "Thank you, Sylus." "Of course. It's not that far from here."
Upon finally reaching the bridge, Sylus puts your grandma down.Â
After so many years, your grandma's emotions are indescribable. Her eyes fill with tears. She trembles as she touches the railing. Sylus initially thought about retreating, to let her reminisce about the bridge herself, but he fears she might stumble, instead following behind her slowly.
Your grandma walks from one end of the bridge to the other, tears streaming down her face. She doesn't speak, only weeping silently. She stops after reaching the other end.
Gathering her emotions, she turns to Sylus and smiles. "Let's go back now, Sylus." "Won't you like to stay a little longer?" "No need."
On the way back, she mentions how she hears him go deep into the mountains often. "Are you thinking of Y/N?" She asks. "Yes." Sylus replies honestly. She smiles and says, "don't worry, I won't tell." "Thank you." "Don't keep thanking me, I should be the one to thank you. You filled the void in Y/N's heart, making my extra ten years of life worthwhile." "You overestimate me." "Not at all, I'm truly grateful to you. Because of you, I finally..."
She doesn't finish her sentence, pausing abruptly, then laughs and changes the subject. "Accompany me for dinner. You seem to have lost weight lately." "Alright." Sylus agrees.
Seeing your grandma return, the housekeeper starts cooking.
Sylus sits with you grandma in the living room, nursing a cup of tea. "I heard there was a typhoon in Linkon City," Sylus mentions casually. Your grandma smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry, Y/N is fine. She called to let me know she's safe."Â Sylus doesn't speak, watching the leaves float in his cup.Â
Your grandma looks at him, her gentle eyes flickering. After a while, she sighs and says, "Sylus, you're a good child. Truly. Except you're too stubborn. Listen to what you want instead of focusing on an overly idealized future. Since there's hope, shouldn't you try?" "With me, there's no future." Sylus says in a deep voice. "Why? Even a short future is still a future." "Can something so short really be considered a future?" Sylus lowers his gaze, taking a deep breath. "My existence is a curse in itself, and the other creatures will see her as a threat. They'll worry that she'll find a way to get me out of this mountain. I worry they'll create an... accident."
Your grandma is shocked, clearly not having considered this.Â
"I don't know why I was born like this, but I suspect the reason they won't let me leave the mountain is related to their interests. If my own father can break my tendons and chain me here like livestock, there's no end to what they could do." Sylus takes a deep breath. "So, Grandma," he looks at her, gaze deep, "I have no other choice."
Your grandma's eyes turn watery. She clenches her firsts and says bitterly, "They're inhuman." Sylus gives a small laugh. "They're not human to begin with."
Just then, Mrs. Zhou comes out of the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"
"Don't think about it, Grandma. Please eat." Sylus calmly reaches out to help her up. âLet's eat." Sylus never had an appetite for human foods, but to cheer your grandma up, he eats a full bowl, only to vomit terribly afterwards. But that's a separate story.
After dinner, your grandma insists on seeing him off. As they reach the door, she slips an envelope into Sylus' pocket, pressing his hand as he tries to take it out, and gesturing for him to be quiet.
Sylus understands and stops trying to refuse.Â
As Sylus reaches his front door, he takes out the envelope. As he expected it contains around 500 dollars in cash, and a letter. He unfolds the letter, which reads:
"Sylus, there are some things that I feel are better said to you in a letter. The day you left Y/N, she cried for a long time in the rain. I've never seen her cry like that, not even as a baby. After the Chronorift disaster, she was far too quiet, rarely crying or smiling. Over time, to avoid the pain of loss, she locked herself away, no longer having anything she liked, so it wouldn't be taken away from her. Without love, there is no joy. You appearance was one of the few moments of happiness in Y/N's life; it was like a miracle. I don't know if she's told you this, but I'm telling you now. Living is very hard for her. That day, she told me she wanted to die with you, but you valued her life too much. However, I want to say that there are things more important than life. When Y/N was younger, I attempted suicide three times because the love of my life had passed away. But when I woke up in the hospital the last time and saw Y/N standing alone in the corner, I decided to live. I thought this little girl also needed to feel loved and wanted to save her. I can't save her. When she learned that I was living for her sake, she wanted to end her own life. I know she wanted me to be able to see her grandfather, but also to free herself. Living is painful for her, but I still keep wishing she'd hold on a little longer, until she meets someone worth living for, until she experiences a love that won't betray her previous suffering. I know this is what you want for her too. But you know what? If she hasn't met that person by the time she's 24, I don't plan to let her suffer any longer. Sylus, if one day Y/N comes back and tells you she can't hold on anymore, please, make a promise with her for when she turns 24. Sylus, I've considered many possibilities, both good and bad. If you hear bad news from her, use this $500 to go see her."
Tap-
A tear falls onto the paper.Â
Sylus closes the envelope, tucking it back into his pocket. He closes his eyes in the oncoming wind.Â
21. Night falls, and the mountains are silent. Under the starless night sky, everything is dark, except for a single beam of light shining from a small house.Â
The door hinge creaks, and an elderly woman in a wheelchair emerges from the courtyard, flashlight in hand. She follows the direction she remembers, departing from the paved path. A lone motorcyclist stops the old lady, calling out, "Grandma! Where are you going so late at night?"
She simply smiles, "I'm afraid you'll laugh if I tell you. Today is the anniversary of my husband's death. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come out for some fresh air. Maybe I'll run into my husband's ghost."
Ghosts are terrifying to some, but to others, they're a gift to see.Â
Seeing the old lady's sincerity, the other person doesn't suspect anything, simply sighing. "I admire the deep devotion you have for your late husband, but it's too dangerous for an elderly person like you to be out here at this hour. Let me take you back." Your grandma waves her hand. "No need, no need. My wheelchair is quite sturdy. I'll make my way around."Â The young man can only say, "Please be careful. Head back soon, it's very cold out here, don't get sick."
After saying goodbye, your grandma continues on her path alone. It's already very late. No one is out in this weather.Â
The place she stops is just ahead of the muddy path Sylus had taken her earlier that day. Shining her flashlight around, she shakily stands up, grabbing her walking stick, and pushes her wheelchair into the ditch beside the road.Â
Hanging the flashlight around her neck, she steps onto the muddy path, struggling to keep walking. She stumbles after a few yards, but gets back up again. By the time she sees the bridge, her body is bruised all over, clothes stained with mud and blood. Finally reaching the bridgehead, she uses her last bit of strength to sit up, leaning against the post.Â
A star appears in the sky. She looks up at the single light in the darkness. Perhaps her love was on the star, watching over her. The chilling wind blows across the river, bitterly cold, but the old woman smiles. She's been waiting for this moment for many, many years. "Darling, I'm coming for you," she says, then slowly closes her eyes.Â
The temperature drops to below freezing at night, the river slowly beginning to freeze. No one would be able to survive outside on such a cold winter night, let alone an elderly woman.Â
The next day, when people found her, she had already passed away peacefully, a smile still on her face.Â
Her body was taken back to the village.Â
By the time you return, she's already lying peacefully in a coffin at the funeral home. Looking at your grandma's smiling face, you smile too, but tears stream down your face.Â
Mrs. Zhou, eyes red, comes over to pat your shoulder, trying to comfort you. "Don't be too sad. Your grandma left on her own, on the same bridge your grandpa built for her." "Then she must have seen him," you say.
You genuinely felt happy for her.Â
From the moment you saw her lying there, you knew that she didn't die of an accident or any sudden health condition. She had missed your grandfather and gone to find him. Finally. She didn't have to suffer anymore.
You place your hand in the coffin, cradling your grandma's hand, saying in a hoarse voice, "Grandma, you've suffered a lot all these years."
22. Screams ring out, as a boy nicknamed "His Highness," finds himself utterly powerless under Sylus' relentless blows.
He knows, of course, why he's being beaten. As Sylus pauses for a moment to ask, he takes the chance to speak first, shouting, "Stop! Stop! I was wrong, I was wrong!" Sylus simply holds him by the collar of his shirt. "What did you do wrong?" "I shouldn't have cornered Mephisto, I shouldn't have burned his college application. I was wrong! I know I was wrong!"Â
Sylus looks down at him, eyes devoid of any warmth. "Then I'm not doing anything wrong, am I?" With those words, he gives the spirit one more hard kick before turning away.Â
As he walks away, a larger group of creatures surround him. Recognizing them as part of Onychinus, he lets them take him. They don't fight him, instead, they push him deep into the woods, until they reach a cave.Â
In the den, sitting on a plush throne, is the figure of a man. Sylus' father, whom he hasn't seen in nearly half a century.Â
Hearing the commotion, his sharp, reptilian eyes sweep over the group before him. Sylus meets his gaze, his own even colder, chillingly so. "I've disturbed you, haven't I?" Sylus chuckles, tone dripping with undisguised sarcasm. Â
The figure doesn't speak, simply standing up and walking slowly towards Sylus, stopping in front of him.Â
Slapâ!
A loud crack echoes against the walls.Â
Sylus staggers back two steps from the blow, a metallic taste filling his mouth. He licks it with the tip of his tongue, giving the man an cold look. His father seems enraged by his indifference, grabbing Sylus' chin with a grip so tight, it feels as if he wants to crush his bones.Â
"Try glaring at your father again." Sylus smiles as if he just hard a joke. "My father?" The smile vanishes as he sneers, "You think you're worthy of that title?"
The man's anger flares instantly, and the figures morphs into a huge, draconian form. A single swipe of his tails knocks Sylus to the ground.
"We treat you like a emperor here, and here you are, always trying to run away or cause more trouble!" Sylus spits back, "Otherwise what? Should I be grateful to you?" Another blow lands on him. "You should be grateful I even allowed you to live! You curse! You killed your mother!" Sylus doesn't have more words to argue with this kind of person. "I didn't ask to be born."
Seething, the dragon crouches down, his claws tight around Sylus' neck. "I told you you'd die if you leave this mountain. You want to try?"
Hearing no response, he chuckles. "If you want to die that badly... Then go die."
While his face is still expressionless, Sylus' pupils visibly dilate at the last three words. His father, seeing this, sneers, then turns around to leave.Â
Sylus is shoved back into the car.Â
A while later, all is silent back at Sylus' house. Dragon, afraid of strangers, finally emerges from her corner. She goes to Sylus' feet, rubbing against his leg, emitting a low purr. Sylus picks up the cat and buries his face in its soft fur.Â
Dragon rests quietly on Sylus' shoulder, head nestled in the crook of his neck, as if embracing him in her own way.Â
After a long silence, a hoarse voice echoes hollowly in the room. "Dragon, you're all I have left."
It's new years eve, the liveliest night of the year. Sylus once again spends it without his family. The only difference was that before, he had Mephisto, and sometimes the twins with him. This year, its just himself and Dragon.Â
There's no ban on fireworks in the Azure mountains. Every new year's eve, before dusk, the sound of fireworks and firecrackers fill the air, growing louder as the night deepens. On this night, even the brightest stars pale in comparison to the fireworks that blanket the night sky.
Every year, at that time, Sylus would climb onto his roof and look at the sky ablaze with colors and flames. Not a single firework blooms for him. None of this earthly warmth belongs to him.Â
He doesn't need to get close to see the lights from homes far away to know what goes on inside: families gathering together, some watching the countdown, some playing cards and drinking by the fireplace.Â
In previous years, he doesn't feel his heart moved all that much, but this year, it does. Because he's thinking of someone. He wonders. Now that your grandma had passed away, were you alone, just like him?
Sylus knows its futile for him to long for this kind of human warmth, but he genuinely hopes you could feel it.Â
23. Meanwhile, a hundred miles away in Linkon City.
A large group of college students are gathered in a bar, having dinner and enjoying their New Years Eve celebrations. Everyone is chattering and laughing, except one, who seems to be in her own little world.Â
Since getting here, you haven't uttered a single word, like a silent shadow, completely out of place in this festive scene.Â
Looking at the smiling faces before you, the laughter and joy in your ears are suddenly interrupted by a sharp ringing. You reflexively lower your head, closing your eyes, frowning as you try to endure the tinnitus.Â
After a full minute of ringing, the noise finally subsides, and you open your eyes to see a glass of beer placed in front of you. "Y/N, drink up!" You're startled, because accompanying the voice is the chirping of cicadas hidden deep within the forest. But it's the dead of winter.Â
Your look of surprise vanishes just as fast. This isn't the first time you've heard the sounds of summer in winter. You know it's an auditory hallucination. But since when did you start getting hallucinations after tinnitus?
It wasn't after your grandmother's death. No. It was a month before.Â
You had went to see a fortune-teller that day. Late that night, you opened the poem book on your nightstand and came across a poem titled "Winter". It read something like this: "Is this winter? I'm not sure. But when you're not by my side, I can always hear the cicadas chirping in the height of summer."
From that moment on, the poem became your reality.
Initially, the symptoms weren't severe, but they had worsened after your grandmother's death. You didn't need to go see a doctor to know why this was happening. Your hope was gone, and your support as well.Â
In your hallucinations, every smiling face before you gradually blurs into a phantom, the joyful sounds of your classmates becoming indistinct; only the sound of cicadas remains clear. You feel as if you're standing on the edge of the world, or in a different dimension. The scene of celebration, seemingly within your reach, feels incredibly distant.Â
You finally understand why your grandmother disliked such gatherings - because the one she loved wasn't there. Such lively and warm moments only evoke more painful memories, reminding you of the one person you wanted to see.Â
You miss your grandma. You also miss Sylus. Sylus, is anyone counting down the new year with you right now? I'm surrounded by dozens of people, but without you, I only feel lonely. The more lively the scene, the more I want you by your side.Â
"Y/N?" It sounds like someone's calling you. "Y/N, are you alright?" Someone is shaking you, trying to pull you out of your imaginary world, but it only makes you more dizzy.
Buzz-
A sharp screeching tears across your ears. You cover your face with your hands, shrinking back in pain. People around you panic, crowding around you, calling your name anxiously. The cacophony of shouts and the piercing ringing in your ears makes your head throb. Breathing becomes difficult. Surrounded by the crowd, you feel as if you've been thrown in a kettle and boiled dry. Your eardrums are being torn apart, the air unbearably stuffy.Â
"Move out of the way! Don't surround her!" "Someone get her to the hospital!"
In the chaos, someone knocks over a glass, which shatters on the floor with a loud crash. The sound of shattering is so crisp, it knocks you out of your torture. Time stands still, and all the noise vanishes.Â
You open your eyes to see the broken glass on the floor. A sudden surge of tears well up in your eyes, as if you, too, had shattered along with it.
"Y/N, look at me." Voices reach your ears again. You look at the person in front of you slightly sluggishly, your eyes unfocused. "Y/N, tell me, what's wrong?" You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. "Someone take her to the hospital, she's not right in her mind." Only then does your gaze finally converge. "It's nothing, just tinnitus." You tone is eerily flat. "You should still go get checked..." "No," you interrupt, standing up. "You guys continue, I need to go somewhere." No one chases after you.Â
24. Stepping out into the cool breeze, you call a taxi.
"Hello, I'd like to go to Azure mountain, now," you say to the driver. "Miss, it's New Years Eve today, I..." the driver is clearly reluctant. "Take me there, and I'll give you a thousand dollars."
Only a fool would turn down a thousand dollar single trip. The driver lets you in.
The journey from Linkon City to the foot of the mountains takes around four hours. However, it had snowed, making the ascent difficult. It's nearly midnight when you arrive at Sylus' home.
Getting out of the taxi, you bid the driver farewell as you walk across the bridge and stop at the door. Before you even raise your hand to knock, the door opens automatically, with Sylus stepping out.
"Call the driver back," are his first words to you, tone cold. You stare at him, then take out your phone, and smash it into the ground behind him. "Can't. My phone's broken." Sylus furrows his brows. "What do you want?" "I miss you." His expression darkens as anger flashes in his eyes, his gaze icy. "You promised you wouldn't hang onto me." "Then I apologize, but I can't do that." Sylus' lips tighten as he replies ruthlessly. "If I had known you'd be this shameless, I never would've bothered with you in the first place." You ignore his harsh words, simply stating, "But you did." "I regret it." "Regret is useless," you don't buy his act. "Ask yourself honestly. Do you really regret it?"
Sylus doesn't answer, silently staring at you.
Fireworks burst in the sky, one after another, from the town below. One explodes right above you, ephemeral and beautiful, but neither of you look up. You stare intently at each other, one with icy coldness, the other with unwavering determination. You're locked in a stalemate, neither willing to back down.Â
A breeze blows across the pond. You squint, the hairs on your neck bristling, clearly feeling the cold. Sylus' gaze falters.Â
Linkon City isn't as cold as the mountains. You're only wearing a thin coat, no match for the freezing temperatures at higher altitude.Â
Sensing a softening in his gaze, you take the opportunity to step towards him. Sylus takes a step back. You pause, forcing a bitter smile. "You want me to freeze to death?"
Sylus remains silent.
You keep walking towards him. He doesn't back down, only stepping back when you lift your arms to give him a hug. "We'll talk inside," he says, turning and going into the house. Passing your broken phone, he bends over to pick it up. You pause for a moment before lowering your arms and follow him inside.Â
You sit down facing each other.
"What brings you here?" Sylus asks. He doesn't look at you, instead working on retrieving the SIM card from your phone. "Sylus, look at me." You say. Sylus hesitates, then lifts his gaze. "What?" "Sylus, what would you do if I told you I can't hold on for much longer?"
He freezes. When he speaks again, his words are curt, as if his brain was short-circuiting, unable to process the information at hand. "You... you can't..." You know what he's going to say. "I'm not lying to you." You smile, voice strained. "I really don't want to hold on for much longer." "Why?! You said... you still have..." Sylus pauses, realizing something. "Is it.. is it because your grandmother passed away?" You reply calmly, "If she didn't pass away, I could have held on for much longer. But she's gone now. I can't do it anymore."
The house is warm, but Sylus feels a chill run down his spine.Â
He remembers the letter your grandma gave him. "Sylus, if one day, Y/N comes back and tells you she can't hold on any longer, please, make a promise with her... I've thought of many possibilities, good and bad. If news comes from afar, use this money to go see her one last time."
Good news:Â you'd survive, fall in love, and get married. He'll go to your wedding to see you one last time before ending his own cursed life.
Bad news:Â you've passed away, then he'll go die with you.Â
Sylus takes a deep breath, suppressing the suffocating feeling in his chest. He looks at you intently. After a long time, he finally opens his mouth.Â
"Let's make a promise." "What promise?" You're intrigued. "If you haven't met a person that makes you want to continue on by the time you're... 24."
His adams apple bobs, the veins on his neck bulging as if he's desperately holding back some emotion.Â
"Come back here, and I'll die with you."
25. Fireworks continue to bloom outside the window, firecrackers crackling incessantly, yet you feel a sudden, eerie silence around you, save for Sylus' words echoing repeatedly in your ears: "Come back, and I'll die with you."
Suddenly, you laugh. "Okay." "But under one condition." Sylus hardens his gaze, "Until you turn 24, you can't come back here, no matter what."
He emphasizes the last three words.
You agree easily. "I understand." "If you break your promise again..." Sylus starts, but then hesitates, unsure how to continue. Finally, he could only weakly say, "Don't break your promise, I beg you." "I won't." "And one more thing." He clenches his fists, "You must, you absolutely must do everything you can to hold on until then." You smile, "With this promise, I'll do anything."
Looking at your smile, Sylus suddenly feels as if he's fallen into a trap, yet he also couldn't imagine using you going back on a promise like this.Â
"Sylus," you call out to him, yawning, "I'm sleepy." "It's New Year's Eve today, aren't you staying up all night?" he asks casually, his thoughts still somewhat scattered.
You smile at him, siting down on his sofa, and reach out to hug him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I don't want to stay up, I just want to watch you sleep." You clasp your hands around him tightly.
Sylus turns his face away, but gives up on removing your hands. "Do you think I'd let you sleep with me?"Â "Very likely." "Impossible," he says firmly. "Say that again while looking at me this time."
Sylus turns around, ready to repeat himself, when you lean forward and kiss him.
You want to make sure he doesn't say a single word.Â
Sylus initially manages to control himself, but his restraint could only last so long. When it comes to you, he would always inevitably succumb. His kiss is fierce, almost aggressive, as if trying to brand the kiss deep into your bones. You feel as if he's stealing all the air from your lungs, yet you kiss him back with reckless abandon.Â
He finally breaks it off, watching you gasp. "You know, I don't actually... sleep."
From the moment Sylus saw you, he knew that he'd be powerless against you. Love is something you always want to control, but can't.Â
26. That night the two of you let go of all control, staying up the whole time, only falling asleep in each other's arms at dawn. When you wake up, it's already afternoon. You would've slept for a bit longer, but your stomach growls in protest. Sylus gets up to cook for you instead.Â
By the time you go downstairs, Sylus is nearly done. You wander into the kitchen, drawn in by the smell. Watching him busy in the kitchen, you feel as if you've returned to last summer. Leaning against the door as you observe the light dance across his hair, it's almost like you reached the end of time. You desperately wish that time could stop in this moment, never to move forward again.Â
Your footsteps are light, but Sylus heard the moment you got out of bed. He turns around with the dishes in his hand.
"I was going to bring this up for you." You smile, "My legs are sore, but not bad to the point I can't get out of bed. You haven't been that bad to me." Sylus chuckles, "I see."
His smile holds something deeper.Â
You look over at him with interest. "I thought you were going to pull up your pants and then act all cold and chase me away." Sylus' eyes darken slightly, before he says softly. "I won't chase you away." You raise an eyebrow. "Really? Have you finally realized?"
That it's pointless?
Sylus knows you have no intention of loving anyone else. But he still hoped that you wouldn't come back six years later. "Think what you want," he says, taking the dishes to the table. "I'm not going to kick you out, but don't linger for too long." Putting the dishes on the table, Sylus turns to look at you. "Come and eat.â âComing.â
Just then, as if drawn by the aroma, Dragon jumps onto the table. You reach out to touch her, but your gaze drifts to the window, remembering the butterflies from last summer.
When Sylus returns with a bowl of rice for you, you ask, "Can I go see the  Cypress grove one more time?" "Okay."
It's very windy outside. You head out wrapped in Sylus' wool coat, it's sleeves too long for you, and the hem nearly dragging on the ground. Sylus holds your hand the entire time, his hand buried in the sleeve.Â
Once you veer off the mountain path, the route becomes less familiar.Â
In the summer, the sky was blue, the grass green, the atmosphere exceptionally beautiful. Now, only a serene, undisturbed layer of snow. You can't help but feel sad. So much time had passed, along with your grandmother.
Your eyes are downcast when suddenly, a snowflake lands on your nose. "It's snowing," Sylus says from beside you.Â
You look up.Â
From your memory, the last time you saw snow was when you were a child. You don't remember your age, but only that your family was still alive then. Back then, you loved the snow. You gaze at the falling snowflakes, reaching out to catch one, quietly watching them fall into your palm and melt.Â
"I'll leave after this snowfall," you say. Sylus seems almost taken aback. "I thought you'd stay a little longer." "Do you want me to stay longer?" "No," Sylus shakes his head.
You smile, knowing he'd answer that way.Â
You aren't sad. Still smiling, you turn to him. "I won't stay long this time, it's not like I'm going to die with you the first day I come back after six years." You pause. "We still have time." There's still time to love each other.
Sylus doesn't speak, silently watching the snow fall with you.
You continue. "After I turn 24, let's wait until the winter to die. I heard that when you die, time will forever stop in that moment. I love snow. If we die on a snowy day, the snowfall won't end."Â And you'll never leave again. You'll be together forever in that snowstorm.Â
This time, you leave with a smile, just like the first day you met. You knew you'll meet again, so you smile and look forward to that day.
After you leave, Sylus cries. He stands in front of the cypress tree, praying to whatever is out there for someone, anyone, to save you.
That spring, after the cypress blossoms once again create a thin white mist, Mephisto tells Sylus he was admitted to Linkon University. At the end of August, Sylus sees Mephisto off on his way to school.Â
"Don't worry about things back here, you'll always have myself and the twins." "Boss... thank you, you've helped me so much. I don't know how to repay you for everything." Mephisto sniffles. "If Y/N asks about me, don't say anything. That's all I ask for." Sylus says. Mephisto nods, "Alright. I won't tell." "Also, please try to persuade her." "About what?"Â
Sylus doesn't tell him about his pact with you about turning 24, only saying, "persuade her to live a good life and make more friends."Â "Alright."
Mephisto has never left the mountain since he could remember. Up in the village, there are no buses, no trains, no subways. After arriving in Linkon City, it takes a while for him to adjust. The city is too big for him, and Linkon University was much larger than he imaged.Â
27. In a campus as large Linkon University's, it's hard to see even someone you know if you're not in the same major. Moreover, Mephisto didn't know what you are studying. He didn't think he'd find you again, yet he also felt certain that he would. Wherever he was, Mephisto is always looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere.Â
As summer turned to autumn, then winter, he keeps going.Â
Finally, on a cold, rainy, winter evening, he sees your familiar figure. Even if it's just a fleeting glance around a corner, he immediately runs over to you without hesitation.Â
As he sees you walk towards the dorms, he calls out, "Y/N!" You turn around to see the boy in front of you, soaked but still smiling with bright teeth. "It's really you!"Â You blink, seemingly in a daze, before finally opening your mouth, "Mephisto."
You take him back to your dorm to dry himself off and brew him some ginger tea. "Sit down and drink this." "Thank you, Y/N!" Mephisto sits down across from you. "You got into Linkon University?" you ask. "Yes," he nods. "Why didn't you tell me?" Mephisto subconsciously touches the back of his neck. "I didn't know how to contact you." "Sylus knows."Â "Oh..." Mephisto doesn't know how to reply. "What does he do everyday now?" You ask. Mephisto had promised Sylus he wouldn't mention him, so he simply says, "I don't know either."Â You chuckle, "did Sylus forbid you to mention him to me?"
Mephisto doesn't know whether he should tell you the truth of not, apprehension visibly obvious in the way he shifts his eyes. He wants to insist not, but when he looks up to see your clear eyes that seem to see right through him, he swallows the words he's about to say, finally nodding while avoiding your gaze.
You pick up a cup of hot water, taking a sip, and slowly puts down the cup. You say unhurriedly, "Did Sylus tell you I made a pact with him? If I haven't met anyone else I like by the time I turn 24, I'll go back to the mountains and die with him."Â
Mephisto's eyes widen.Â
You continue calmly, "I've never considered falling in love with anyone else, nor do I think I can. I'm just holding on until I'm 24 to go back to him. So whether you tell me or not, the result will still be the same. But if you can let me know how he's doing, I can at least be a little happier in the meantime."
"Y/N..." Mephisto whispers. "Although I don't know why you have such negative thoughts..." "Mephisto," you interrupt, asking him a question, "what do you think is the difference between humans and other animals?"
Mephisto doesn't know where you're going with this question.
"Humans have a will that will go against their instincts." You have no intention of waiting for an answer, stating your own conclusion first. "Animals can't go against their instinct to survive, but as humans, we can. I will only live to a certain age anyways, but I can choose to go when I want, according to my own will."
Mephisto doesn't know how to refute you, but he still finds it hard to accept.
"Don't look so gloomly," you casually lean against the softa, tilting your head slightly. "You look quite handsome when you smile, so make sure to smile more."
Mephisto knows he can't change your mind overnight, so he might as well... let you be happy.Â
He supresses his emotions and raises the corners of his lips, trying to smile- "Forget it, you look worse than if you cry." You stand up and head to the kitchenette.Â
"You good with some ramen?"
During the meal, Mephisto thinks over what you told him, silently whispering an apology to Sylus in his heart. He then tells you the story of how he met Sylus as an orphan in the mountains when he was young. He tells you about the time Sylus fought three creatures people at once and held his own - he was so impressive! He also told you that Sylus was really good at skipping tones, they were like shooting stars across the pond. He also said that there was a girl from the town at the bottom of the mountain who once chased Sylus up to the village, and Sylus ended up claiming to be gay and using him as shield, hence why the other boys picked on him so much... and so on.
You listen with amusement, a smile finally gracing your face.
28. After that dinner, you add Mephisto to your contacts.Â
He frequently makes plans with you, sometimes to grab something to eat, other times to go for walks, bike rides, or kite-flying. Sometimes, he'd bring along handsome guys from his department, subtly trying to set you up. Like Sylus, he hoped that you'd eventually fall for someone else and not go back to the mountain to find him.Â
Mephisto brought a camera around with him, and would take photos to send to Sylus, reassuring him you were doing well and making friends. To give Sylus some sense of comfort, you'd reluctantly put on a smile, and Mephisto would smile along.Â
But his smile froze in the winter of the following year.
That winter, Sylus continued his daily routine in the mountains: tutoring children at the library on weekends, visiting the retirement home at noon, going to the cypress grove in the afternoon, and spending the evening playing with his cat and looking at the photos Mephisto sent him. He genuinely wished that you'd find someone else, but he couldn't help but feel a sting whenever he saw you in photos with other boys.Â
One day, he returns home from the cypress grove as usual, arriving after dark. Sitting at his empty dinner table alone, he suddenly feels a sharp pain in his gut, an uncontrollable surge of nausea rising up into his throat.
He immediately covers his mouth and rushes to the bathroom, vomiting violently into the toilet. His stomach churns on nothing, but he feels so nauseous he can't open his eyes, and his head spins wildly. After an unknown amount of time, he feels as if he'd blacked out, all other senses were gone. He finally loses consciousness, body convulsing as he collapses to the side.
When he wakes up, the world is still spinning. Feeling dizzy, he struggles to sit up, but the next second, he snaps to attention as he sees a pool of dark red, still-wet blood before him.Â
Stomach still cramping, he leans against the wall as he endures the pain to return to the living room. He tries to pick up his phone to call the twins, but his arms were too weak to support any weight. He collapses onto the couch, and closes his eyes.Â
In the past, he would've gladly died, but now, he's made a promise to you. He has to wait for you.
He knew his spirit would fade at some point, but couldn't think of why his health would take such a sudden spiral. The stomach is an organ of emotions. His condition might not have seemed that serious in the beginning, but since you left, his symptoms had worsened dramatically with his longing for you.Â
After taking a few deep breaths, he picks up the phone and dials a number.Â
After hanging up, he lies back down, feeling utterly weak. He doesn't know how much time has passed when he hears a car outside. It's the twins, bringing a shaman with them.Â
The shaman doesn't carry any diagnostic equipment, merely asking about his symptoms. He then takes out a few scrolls, and instructs him to light them at specific times at night. He then leaves, with only Sylus and the twins remaining.
The wind howls outside, the dim room silent. Sylus feels cold, his eyelids heavy. Luke and Kieran could only stare at him sadly.Â
"Boss... You... you really can't keep going on like this." Luke feels a lump in his throat. "Would you please consider-" "No." Sylus cuts him off deftly. "I will not have anyone else die because of me. My birth was a curse, one which I will end myself."
He looks at the scrolls on the table. He then tilts his head slightly, staring at the vast villa around him, and a cold smile slowly spreads across his lips. Now, he only hopes that the scrolls would really work.Â
Enduring the pain, he takes the scrolls upstairs. For the next two days, he doesn't get out of bed. His symptoms show no significant improvement, still in pain with the slightest movement. On the third day, he vomits blood again, this time, so weak afterwards that he couldn't return to his room. Leaning against the wall, he closes his eyes to catch his breath. He recalls what the creature he should call his father had told him at this time last year: "If you really want to die, then go ahead and do it." They genuinely wanted him dead.Â
Thankfully for them, if he went on like this, it wouldn't be long before he did.
"Y/N." He softly calls out your name to the empty room. He smiles, but a single tear glides down his cheek. "What should I do? I think... I'm going to break my promise."
The room falls silent again.
After a long while, he slowly takes out his phone and sends Mephisto a text message:
[Mephisto, can you come back tomorrow? I'm sick and would have to trouble you to take care of me for a couple days.]
From Linkon City, to take the train, then transfer to a bus to the foot of the mountain, then get a taxi up to the village, it'd take a little over four hours total.
Mephisto arrives shortly after noon.Â
Arriving at Sylus' house, Mephisto gasps seeing Sylus' pale face, nearly devoid of any color. He immediately tries to bring him to the hospital, but Sylus stops him, saying, "they won't be able to do anything. These scrolls should be enough. The shaman wrote them for me."
Mesphisto is very worried, but he knows there's nothing he can do. He offers to stay and watch over him for the night, but Sylus insists that he goes back to town to grab something to eat. As Sylus speaks, he takes something from under the covers and puts it in Mephisto's pocket.Â
Looking into his unfathomable eyes, Mephisto remains silent, his heart pounding. "Then... boss, I'll... I'll be going." His voice trembles slightly. "See you." Sylus' tone is casual as always. "See you tomorrow." Mephisto does his best to control his emotions.
Leaving the villa, Mephisto hurries home. On the path outside his house, he takes out what Sylus had given him earlier, using his phone's flashlight to illuminate it.
In his hand is a wad of cash, a folded piece of paper, and a key. He unfolds the paper, his hand shaking. He has a very bad feeling about this.Â
The paper reads:
[Mephisto, I don't know how much time I have left, so I want to see Y/N. Find a taxi, take this money, and have him pick me up at 3 AM tonight. Tell him I need to go to the cross-river bridge next to Linkon University. Also, could you please arrange for Y/N to meet me? Tell her to go to the dessert shop in the photo you sent me last weekend at 8am tomorrow. But don't tell her I'm going there. Just say you have something important to tell her in person and ask her to wait for you until 10. Ifâand I mean ifâI don't come back tomorrow, could you please take this key and bring Dragon out? Find her a good home. It's so beautiful; plent of people should be willing to adopt it. As for Y/N, you know I made a promise with her for five years from now. No matter what, I hope she'll at least... at the very least, live well until then. I'm so sorry, I probably won't be able to be here for you anymore. The days ahead may be tough, but please hang in there. Your tomorrow will be bright. If you can do what I've said, send me a text message and ask if I'm asleep.]
The winter night is quiet, with only the sound of wind whistling through the bare trees branches.
A text message notification sounds exceptionally clear in the silent room. Sylus' phone lights up with a message:
[Sylus, are you asleep?]
He looks at the notification, a smile appearing on his pale face.
At three in the morning, the sound of a car driving over the road son the deserted mountain path, its headlights illuminating the distant clouds. Clutching his stomach, Sylus slowly makes his way out. As he reaches the road, the car pulls up. Sitting in the backseat, he turns his head, "Driver, let's go." The car starts and begins heading downhill.Â
It's still early before dawn, the sky pitch black. Sylus leans back in his seat, eyes open, quietly gazing at the handful of sparse stars in the night sky.
29. After descending the mountain, bypassing the town, and heading straight for the highway, the sky gradually lightens, the fields and houses on both sides of the road appearing into view. Â
Looking at the unfamiliar scenery, Sylus' eyes seems to brighten with the dawn, despite feeling his body weaken the further he goes from the mountain. It takes nearly five hours to get to Linkon City without traffic. During rush hour, at least seven. Because they left early, the driver brings Sylus directly to the bridge in four and a half. Stopping on the bridge is not allowed, so Sylus gets off at the bridgehead and slowly makes his way to the middle.Â
Winter in Linkon city isn't that cold, but Sylus wraps himself securely in a scarf, leaving only his eyes exposed.
It's about quarter to eight o'clock; there's still no one outside the dessert shop along the riverbank near the bridge. Sylus looks into the distance, where the river flowing beneath the bridge merges into the sea.
The wind blows from the sea, following the river's surface.
Sylus pulls down a bit of his scarf to take a deep breath of the sea air. He longs for the sky and the water. The sky symbolized freedom, while the sea was his dream.
He's caught glimpses of the sea since childhood, yet he's never been there in his centuries of existence.
He gazes at the horizon until a familiar figure appears in his peripheral vision. You arrive at the dessert shop.
The dessert shop isn't open yet, so you can only sit on a bench outside. All the stores nearby are closed, and there's only few people on the street, with the occasional car passing by.
You look around the street, glancing by the river. You naturally notice a figure standing on the bridge, but don't pay it any attention, gaze drifting over before staring blankly into the distance. You don't know that the person is watching you, watching you all along.
Sylus traces your face with his eyes again and again, calling that name in his heart over and over again: "Y/N... Y/N... Y/N.." "Every time I call your name, it's saying, 'I love you.'" He still remembers the way you smile when he says those words.
Unfortunately, he can no longer call your name.
Two hours pass quickly. You receive a phone call and get up to leave.
Sylus' gaze follows your figure until you completely disappear from his sight.
That's enough. He's content to get to see you for so long.
Sylus looks up, removing his hat, then his scarf. Just as he is about to take off his coat, two familiar cars appear at the bridgehead with several people getting out. Watching them walk towards him angrily, Sylus narrows his eyes. They had arrived much faster than he expected, but thankfully, not too fast.
Sylus smiles. He takes off his heavy coat to stand on the railing of the bridge. He opens his arms, and with a smile, falls down, as if embracing freedom.
A huge splash erupts on the lake's surface.
After falling into the water, Sylus doesn't surface. He swims towards the deepest part of the water.
He had lied to Mephisto after all. This time, he has no intention of going back. He doesn't want to die in that mountain.
He swims and swims⊠He wants to go deeper, and deeper still, until no one can find him, and then let the river carry him to the sea... never to return. Finally, all his strength leaves him. He closes his eyes, letting the icy river water rush into his body.
His consciousness begins to blur⊠Sylus can no longer feel the suffocating pain, just his body slowly sinking. Death seems to be just ahead, and then, in a daze, he thinks he hears your voice, calling his name.Â
He doesn't have the strength to open his eyes again, but the face is still in his sight.
It's just a hallucination. He smiles. A hallucination is fine.
âY/N.â He likes to call your name before speaking. "You know, I'm happy to die in the city where you are. You'll never know."
Because I'm about to die.
"Hey, Y/N. Live well. Find someone else to love, and don't come looking for me at the mountain. I'm not there anymore." After saying this, he sees his own reflection before him.
He suddenly understands.
It's not a hallucination, but the legendary replay of memories that occurs right before a person dies. He sees the two of you standing by the cliff. He sees the two of you running through the woods and across the mountains. He sees the two of you standing under a jacaranda tree, petals falling to the ground. He sees the two of you embracing and kissing in the evening breeze, you handing him a bouquet of flowers.
The memory ends with you standing on the hillside, asking him: âWill we meet again?â
Will we meet again?
He thinks for a moment.
Yes.I will become the wind, embracing you every night.
30. Since the time Mephisto stood you up at the dessert shop, you don't see him again until the following spring.Â
That time he invited you out, he kept saying you'd regret it if you didn't go. Otherwise, you never would've gone to the riverbank so early in the morning to stand in the cold wind for such a long time.
As you were leaving, you asked Mephisto why he insisted you to come here. He simply said that he found a guy who looked a lot like Sylus, but he was only free in the mornings, so he set up the date so early. Unfortunately, the guy first said there was traffic, then canceled on him.
Hearing this, you give Mephisto a good scolding, making it clear that you wouldn't tolerate this kind of behavior. Mephisto, being as good natured as he was, apologized and promised to treat you to a meal when he had time. But after that, he doesn't contact you again.
By that time, there was only a few weeks until spring break, so you assume Mephisto was overwhelmed with midterms, not noticing anything amiss.
Coming back to school, Mephisto continues to ask you to come out every week, but often didn't show up himself, leaving you alone with other boys. You assume he found a new tactic to set you up with other people and don't take his unusual behavior seriously.Â
It's not until you finally spend some time with him alone that you belatedly realize something is incredibly wrong with Mephisto. He's not the same as before. He used to be such a cheerful person.
31. Given your personality, you can't help but ask directly after noticing this shift.
"Mephisto, why don't you smile anymore?" Panic flashes across his eyes "Is...is it?" "Yes."
Mephisto lowers his eyes, his dark eyelashes concealing emotions that are hard to hide, but you can easily see that he is deeply troubled.
You don't have a particular penchant for prying into other people's sorrows. Since Mephisto hasn't mentioned anything, you assume he doesn't want to talk about it, so you try to casually change the subject and move on.
However, starting from that spring, through summer, fall, and yet another winter, Mephisto still doesn't smile like he did before. Previously, his eyebrows and eyes sparkle as if bathed in sunlight. Now, even when he does give you the occasional smile, his eyes always seem to be tinged with sadness.
You think maybe it is because he is homesick, missing Sylus and the twins, and because he works many part-time jobs. With this guess in mind, you remind him he can always ask you for any help, and that he can stop trying to keep setting her up with other people.
"Don't feel pressured because of me. When you have time to go home, just tell Sylus that you're busy with work and school. I really don't think he'd be happy to hear that I'm with another guy anyways."
Hearing you suddenly mention Sylus, Mephisto finally breaks down, struggling but failing to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes.
Seeing his bloodshot eyes, you feel a little lost. Does he really miss home that much? Back then, he didn't even show this much grief when you told him you wanted to die with Sylus.Â
After thinking for a moment, you guess that Mephisto must have finally realized the extent of your resolve, explaining his apparent despair.Â
You sigh and place a hand on his back, patting him comfortingly.Â
"I told you a long time ago, I can't love anyone else. I only cooperated with you before so that Sylus would know that even if I tried to go meet other people, I'd still only have eyes for him. That way, he'd feel better so when I turn 24 and go back, he'll be more comforted during our last moments together."
At this point, Mephisto can't stop himself anymore, large tears streaming down his face.Â
Helplessly, you hand him a tissue. "Don't cry, Mephisto. Life isn't about how long you live, it's about the gains and losses. This is the best ending I could think for him, and for myself."
"But..." Mephisto chokes back sobs. But Sylus is already gone... "There are no buts!" you say. He shakes his head, "I can't just watch you die..." His voice is too hoarse to continue. You already know what he's going to say: that he couldn't bear to watch you wait to die. "Can't you try to move on?" Mephisto grabs your arm, his voice breaking as he pleads, "I beg you..." Your expression is calm, unwavering. "I know you want to help me, but please understand, everyone has their own way of living. This is how I choose to spend my time on earth. Not everyone has to face the sun. You have to allow some to walk into the shadows; that's what they yearn for."
Mephisto falls silent, sobbing quietly.
You know that Sylus entrusted you to Mephisto, so you understand his grief. But what you didn't know was that the ending you longed for, earnestly awaited, was already impossible to achieve. You wouldn't be able to die with Sylus Qin.
You knew nothing, nothing at all, believing Sylus was still alive, thinking of you, and waiting for you to return.Â
32. Winter arrives in a flash.
In the classroom, the teacher stands on the podium lecturing; the content is probably something dry, as students below are dozing off.
Suddenly, the tightly closed window humsâthe wind is picking up. You glance out the windows to look at the shadows of the trees swaying in the wind.
Outside this school building is a grove of cypress trees, where cicadas always chirp incessantly in the summer. In this deep winter, you stare at the barren branches, the cry of cicadas still loud in your ears. You no longer get tinnitus, but every winter you still hear those cicada chirps that only exist in your mind.
In the brief moment you drift into thought, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.
There's nothing else on your schedule for the day. When you don't have classes, you usually go back to your apartment to paint. Over the last two years, you made so many paintings that your own place couldn't store it all, so you rented a storage unit specifically for your art. The subjects were usually landscapes, mountains, cliffs, but most often... Sylus. Every day, you'd walk around there. Each time you pass by the paintings, memories would flash before your eyes like a revolving lantern, the face that only exists in your mind would come to life before you. It's the happiest moment of your day.Â
Stepping out of the teaching building, a gust of wind blows against your face. You stop, waiting for the wind to ruffle your hair. The wind doesn't stop, and you don't move.
Two girls stand nearby, sheltered from the wind, seemingly waiting for someone. Standing close, you can overhear their conversation: "MC! You posted pictures of your cat, Dragon, on your Moments again." "I can't help it... Dragon is just too beautiful." "True... her looks are top-tier even amongst Ragdolls!" "That's right." Dragon...? Ragdoll cat...
You're struck by a devastating bought of tinnitus. The ringing so loud your whole body feels numb.
This can't be a coincidence.
You want to immediately snatch the girl's phone to confirm if the "Dragon" the were talking about is actually Sylus' cat, but your legs suddenly feel like lead. Several moments pass before you're able to move a single step, and then, like a robot with rusted parts, you stiffly make your way over.
"Hello, may I see a picture of your cat?" You can barely contain the tremor in your voice. Seeing you look like as if you'd shatter at any second, the girl hurriedly shows you the photo. "Are you Dragon's original owner?" You look at the cat on the screen. It's exactly like the one in your memory. Your eyes instantly blur with tears.
How could Sylus give Dragon away? She's his most loyal companion... unless...
"I adopted her," the girl offers when you don't reply. You look up sharply. "From who?" The girl hesitates for a second, unsure how to answer. "Sylus? Sylus Qin?" You ask directly. The girl shakes her head. "Then..." you frown. "Mephisto...?" The girl nods slowly.
"Thank you." You walk away, posture still somewhat awkward, as if your limbs are refusing to obey your commands. It takes you a while to pluck your phone out from your bag.
You immediately call Mephisto.
He picks up quickly, and you don't even wait for a greeting on the other end, blurting out, "come to my place, now!" You practically shout the last three words, then hang up abruptly as you keep walking. Your entire body is tensed, the piercing ringing in your ears tearing at your nerves.
Not long after you get home, Mephisto arrives as well. Mephisto already knows what happened; the girl that adopted Dragon had called him.
Your door is unlocked, and you sit on the sofa facing the entrance.
Mephisto ran all the way here without stopping, not daring to catch his breath. He doesn't know how to tell you, only weakly managing to say, "Y/N..." You simply stare at him. "Either you tell me what happened or I go back to Azure mountain right now. You choose." "Sister Y/N..." "Don't say my name. I'm giving you one chance to talk." Your voice is terrifyingly calm. "What happened to Sylus? And why was Dragon sent away?" "Boss... he..." Mephisto couldn't speak, his voice trembling violently. "Don't tell me..."
You couldn't utter a complete sentence either, your voice like shattered pieces of glass.
"Don't tell me he's dead." Mephisto doesn't confirm nor deny, but his tear-filled eyes give you the answer. A single tear slides down your cheek.
You grip the sofa tightly, your nails nearly splintering from the force, but you feel no pain. The heartache is a thousand times worse, the pain so intense it makes breathing difficult.Â
"How did he die?" you ask, enduring the agonizing pain in your heart. "He was sick."Â Mephisto doesn't tell you that he had tried to come see you, that he died in the same city where you are.Â
Your face collapses into confusion. You don't understand why fate has to play such a cruel trick on you. Why? Why was it so hard to even die by his side?
"Do you know where his grave is?" you ask. âI know.â You stand up shakily. âTake me there now.â Mephisto runs over and supports you as your legs nearly give out. âIâll take you, Iâll take you.â
âWait.â You suddenly stop before you reach the door. âIs there anything strange about his grave?â
Mesphisto's expression freezes, seemingly puzzled as to why you would ask such a question. Sylus' grave does indeed have something strange about it, but you couldn't have seen it before.
âIt is a little strange,â he answers truthfully. Your hand on his arm tightens as you hear the words. Your voice comes out strained. âHow is it strange?â âHis grave has many rune patterns carved on it, and there are six seals around the grave.â
You close your eyes. Sure enough.
Another piercing ringing courses through your nerves.
Your first bought of tinnitus occurred two years ago, on an autumn evening shortly after you left Azure Mountain.
That day, you visited a very famous fortune-teller. After telling the her about Sylus' situation, the the old lady asks you, "Since you've found me, you must have heard of ancient folklore and the sacrifices of witchcraft common in the mountains?" You nod.
She sighs, fingers sifting through the box of dark sand before she continues, âWhat you're describing is similar. Your friend seems to be... an unfortunate child. Since birth, he belongs between worlds, but unable to survive in either of them... His cursed energy feeds the spirits of everything around him, but he cannot survive on mortal sustenance alone; only the blood of sacrifices can nourish him. As for why he can't leave the mountain... let me give you a simple analogy: your friend is a god of wealth, and the mountain is the his shrine. Of course the inhabitants on the mountain won't let him go." âIs there any way to convince them so that he is able to leave the mountain?â you ask. The old woman shakes her head. âThe environment shapes the people. They've kept him there for far too long, there's no way they'll change their minds now. But in reality, even if he leaves the mountain, they'll still prosper. What truly holds him back isn't his destiny, but his heart.â She sighs, "Your friend might be trapped on that mountain with a soul-locking array. Even in death, he'll be unable to pass on, forever feeding their greed. If that's the case, the only way to release him is to break the array."
So, back then, you had lied to Sylus. You would endure it, even if it meant your own death, fearing it would really be what the fortune-teller had said; that he would be trapped on that mountain until his death and after.
Now that it has been proven true.... You would give him his freedom.
33. It's three in the afternoon when you arrive at Azure Mountain. The climate up here is much colder than Linkon city, but you're oblivious to the change in temperature, your face expressionless.Â
Mephisto leads you to Sylus' grave.
Looking at the runes on the grave and the six eerie seals, you feel a chill. You clench your fists, saying nothing, but snatch the small drill you brought from your house. Holding it steady with both hands, you press the on button without hesitation.
The drill bit roars against the dirt before hitting something hard.
The cement crumbles and peels away, revealing a hollow chamber. Inside, there's no coffin, only a simple iron urn containing ashes. You take out the urn, hugging it to your chest, and quickly walk out of the cemetery.
You refuse to let Sylus stay there for even a second longer.
Following behind you, Mephisto, who has been silent the whole time, calls out to you. "Y/N." You stop. "Where are you going to take Sylus?" You don't answer, only saying, "the driver is still waiting on the road. Go back to Linkon city and pretend you never came here today."
With that, you continue walking.
"Sister Y/N!" Mephisto calls out. This time, you stop abruptly and turn around to stare at him, gaze hollow. "He was very weak then. He didn't know how much longer he had, so..." Mephisto chokes on his words. "So... he came to find you."
Your pupils dilate.
"When... when did he come to find me?" you ask. "Last year. When I called to you meet me at the dessert shop by the river. Sylus was on the bridge."
You've never been a crybaby, and you weren't intending to cry today. But at this moment, tears well up in your eyes uncontrollably.
You don't remember if you saw anyone on the bridge that day, but you do recall hearing someone had jumped into the river from the bridge on the news that night. Later, you heard that the man's father spent an enormous sum of money searching the river for days before finally recovering the body at where the river met the sea. People online discussed that the deceased family must have loved him very much, otherwise who would spend so much money to bring their child home?
Clearly, they didn't love him at all.Â
Because of his birth, which he had no choice in, they deprived him of his freedom, and locked him alone deep in the mountains for centuries. If they had loved him even a little, they wouldn't have refused to let him go even after he died.
Tears stream down your face uncontrollably, but you didn't cry for long.
Taking a few deep breaths, you wipe away your tears and look up at Mephisto, saying, "Mephisto, thank you for telling me everything." Mephisto is crying even harder than you, unable to form a full sentence between his hiccups. You force a wry smile onto your face, "come on, what kind of guy are you, crying like this?" He didn't want to cry either, but he couldn't help himself. "Don't cry, please. You should go back," you say softly. "I have to go as well." "Sister Y/N..." Mephisto's voice is hoarse, almost inaudible. "Go back and study hard, smile more, and spread your wings." Mephisto sobs uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. "Do you hear me?" Mephisto really couldn't talk anymore, he only nods. "I'll be leaving then." You smile at him one last time, then turn around and leave.
Mephisto doesn't follow. He stands there, his body gradually slumping as if all his strength had left him.
He knows what you're going to do.
34. The deep winter sky had always seemed gray, especially in the mountains, shrouded in a misty white fog, like an inescapable dream.
Carrying Sylus'Â ashes, you arrive at the place where you first met him.
Reaching the corner, your steps unconsciously slow down. Looking at the cliff, in a daze, you seem to see Sylus standing there. But the figure vanishes quickly, as if he had turned into the wind, and gone to the distant sea.
You blink once, slowly, then continue walking forward.
Stopping at the edge of the cliff, your gaze falls on the sea, as if recalling some stories about the ocean. After a long pause, you speak. "Sylus, I know you like coming here because of this sea. If you wait for me, I can take you there."
His choice to jump into the river was mostly likely in hopes that the river would carry him away, into the sea.
"I already saved up money for a boat. I'm just waiting for a snowy day to sail to the deepest part of the sea, and we'll jump in together." You smile. "That way, no one can find us, and no one can trap you anymore." "Unfortunately..."
Your voice drops, and your smile fades.
"You didn't wait for me." You lower your eyes, quietly gazing at the urn in your arms. "This time, you broke your promise first."
A gust of wind blows by.
35. The wind on the cliff usually blows head-on, but this gust comes from the mountain path, heading towards the sea.
You pause. Before the wind subsides, you open the urn, scooping up some ashes with one hand, and release it into the wind.Â
Watching them drift into the air, you smile. You can almost see... the wind of freedom piercing through his soul.
As if by some divine intervention, the wind only stops after all of Sylus' ashes have disappeared into the atmosphere. Watching the last of the ashes float away, you smile and whisper: "Sylus Qin, you are free".
He is finally free.
Now it's your turn.
"Sylus, have you ever heard the saying: the highest purpose of life is to die in freedom and love?" You gaze towards the sea, a smile playing on your lips. "You can die in freedom, and I'll die in love."
Grandma said that love can be an event, an object, or even a person. For you, he was love.
Grandma also said that suicide would send her to hell, soâŠ
"Sylus, I'm coming to hell to join you." After saying this, you suddenly feel a chill on your nose. Thinking it's rain, you look up at the sky, and freeze.
Snowflakes fall heavily from the sky. It's snowing.
Everything seems like it was perfectly choreographed for this moment. You had been waiting for a never-ending snowfall.
A bird flies in from the swirling snow and perches on a tree on the cliff edge. You look down, your clear pupils reflecting the bird's image. "Sylus, you said I'm a bird, but did you know? The cliff is a bird's nest." You slowly walk towards the edge of the cliff.
Just then, a long gust of wind rises, like a kiss, gently brushing your face. It's a chilling gust, yet you feel warmth. It makes you think.
Sylus, is it you coming to take me away?
On the first day you met him, from your first sight, you felt that he was like the wind. Now, he truly has become the wind.
You smile, close your eyes, and open your arms to embrace it. Then. You leap.
The snow continues to fall, slowly floating to the bottom of the cliff. The wind finally dies down, but the snowstorm never stops. From then on, the snow falls endlessly.
He rests in the wind. You are buried by snow. Your god is forever free.
Bump for the start of April!!!
(Wow I canât believe itâs been 11 years since I first cried my heart out to Your Lie in April LOL)
Gone With the Wind
Synopsis: From the moment you first saw him, youâre convinced Sylus would be your salvation in this life. Little do you know, in the end, youâre the one who finally gives him freedom. He rests in the wind. You are buried by snow.
Warning(s):TW!! Mentions of depression and suicide. If you are sensitive towards the aforementioned topics, maybe sit this one out (Ë ËÌŁÌŁÌ„âËÌŁÌŁÌ„ ). Angst, Slow burn, Doomed romance, tragedy. Major character death!! (x3). Seriously. ANGST. HURT. No comfort. Non-cannonical universe, Mephisto is human whoops. GRAB SOME TISSUES! Â
30.1k words
A/N: I don't say this enough but thank you to everyone who has the patience to read through my really long works! It makes the writing process all worth it <3 Anyhow, it's the end of March, which means I need to honor one of my top devastating animes of all time: Your Lie in April!! This is loosely inspired by Your Lie In April and Forest of Fireflies (but the worst of both worlds). I swear I'm only gonna be working on fluff after this for a while; I cried too many times writing the ending. As always, happy reading and enjoy!
1. You lean against the old wallpaper as Mrs. Zhou, your grandma's domestic helper, takes your bags. "Thanks for coming back to visit. I know this place is shabby and far, but your grandma is very happy to see you. As you know, her health these days..." You nod, stopping her from saying more. "She's still taking a nap, isn't she? I'll walk around a little bit. Be back for dinner." Mrs. Zhou nods, instructing you, "Take the main road. Turn back as soon as it gets dark." "Okay," you reply, slinging your camera around your neck.
You head out, choosing the opposite direction your cab had came from, slowly walking along the cement road. The road seems to lead to the top of the mountain; it's all uphill, but fortunately, the dense foliage and cool breeze makes the walk less tiring. The scenery of the mountain village is beautiful, but it's not quite enough to make you stop and enjoy the view. You don't reach for the camera around your neck. As you notice the sun slowly beginning to set, you decide to turn around after the next bend.Â
But after passing the bend, you don't turn around. You stop, casually glancing up in the fleeting moment.
Before you lies a clearing off the edge of a cliff, twilight streaming through the rolling, thick clouds, forming beams of light. A figure stands there, tall and slender, like a pine tree growing on the cliff's edge. The pine trees on the cliff, standing year-round, heir branches and leaves shaped by the will of the breeze, seem destined to one day become nothing more than the wind itself. That person seems to be just like that as well; like someone who would become the wind.
You, lost in thought for a moment, raise your camera.
You press the shutter, and in that instant, the person in the lens turns their head, a cold gaze piercing through the twilight and mountain wind, meeting your eyes. Your heart feels like its been struck by a lightning bolt. You feel a momentary stiffness in your body, and you stammer as you lower the camera.
Without the filter of the lens, the coldness in that gaze is even more pronounced.
"Did you get my permission to take the picture?" His voice is icy cold. âSorry," you say. âIâll delete it now.â After doing so, you walk towards him, showing him the camera. âItâs deleted.â
You're only about a meter apart when the man reaches out and takes the camera from you, checking if you've actually done so. You don't mind. It was your fault at first. He looks down at the camera. You look at him.
The person before you seems to be around your age, maybe just a little older, exuding the chill of the early spring breeze. The light filtering through the clouds bath him, giving him an unreal, almost ethereal quality, especially since you've met in this place. It's as if he shouldnât exist in the first place, a god who only appears in the depths of the clouds, among these mountains and rivers.
You're enraptured by his face when you suddenly notice a subtle change in his expression: He raises an eyebrow slightly. You quickly realize he must have saw something on your camera, like your selfies.
You snatch the camera back and, sure enough, the album is turned to a set of deliberately silly faces. You took those on a whim, wanting to see what your face, often described as icy, would look like with those expressions. You haven't deleted them yet, too lazy to do so, not expecting anyone else to see them.
âWho gave you permission to look through my things?â You ask with an annoyed look. The boy doesn't react much, replying lightly, âWe're even now.â He turns away indifferently, continuing to look at the horizon.
Fine. It's even. You compose yourself and follow his gaze. It's then that you realize you could actually see the sea from here.
At that moment, the setting sun dips below the horizon, bathing the sea in a golden hue. The shimmering waves, like countless stars falling into the depths, blend seamlessly with the twilight. This is the perfect spot to watch the sunset. The scene before you is certainly worthy of a photograph, but you don't raise your camera again. Instead, you take a step towards the edge of the cliff and look down. The cliff is steep; you need to walk to the very edge to see the top. You look at the bottom with a thoughtful expression.
After a while, you say, "This is a good place to jump off."
The boy next to you isn't surprised by your comment; even humming in agreement. You, however, are quite surprised by his reaction. A normal person wouldn't react this way to such a remark.
You turn to look at him. He also glances at you. Your gazes meet in the evening breeze, neither flinching nor hesitant.
This eye contact lasts a long time, but neither of you show any real emotion in your eyes. You don't look away; you simply didn't want to look away. Looking into his eyes, an indescribable feeling rises in your heart. If you had to describe it, it's like sinking into the sea, having your breath taken away, but not suffocating. You feel your body floating, then sinking deeper and deeper, reaching the deepest point, where you see another deep blue sea.
It's something you've never seen before, so you wanted to keep looking.
Unfortunately, he doesn't intend for you to keep looking. He looks away, glancing at the sun completely below the horizon, and says calmly, "It's getting dark. Aren't you going back?" "Yes," you say, but you don't move. Instead, you ask him, "What about you?" "Yes." Unlike you, he turns around as soon as he opens his mouth. He has long legs, and in a few strides, is already back on the concrete road, turning to go down the mountain. You follow, going in the same direction.Â
Before long, you catch a glimpse of your grandma's little house from the corner of your eyes. You watch the person before you keep walking ahead. You contemplate for a moment before stopping.
"Hey," you call out. He stops and turns around. He doesn't ask what you're calling him for, just quietly looking at you. You walk a few steps closer and ask, "What's your name?" His eyes are half-lidded, meeting your direct gaze, his expression calm and indifferent. "Sylus Qin."
Sylus...
You silently repeat the name in your head. It fits, you decide. "The first time I saw you, I thought you were like the wind." You say, tone unwavering as if stating a fact. Sylus disagrees, coldly replying, "I don't think so." You don't mind his unfriendly remark; instead, a slight smile appears on your lips.
You find him amusing.
"What's wrong with being like the wind? You seem quite resistant to the idea." "It's not that it's bad. I'm just not like it," he says. "Then what are you like?" You press again. "I don't know," he replies, "I haven't thought about it." You look at him, a smile appearing in your usually calm, lake-like eyes. For the first time in years, you feel a desire to understand someone. You want to see what this man named Sylus is like.
âWill we meet again?â You ask. The evening breeze carries your voice to his ears, accompanied by the rustling of leaves.
Sylus looks at you. You stand a few feet above him on a not-so-steep slope, backlit, your hair blurred by light and shadow. Your face is hazy, like distant mountains at dusk. âYes." You give him a faint smile.Â
You don't exchange any more words that night. The two of you continue walking. Sylus doesn't stop when you reach your doorstep, and you don't call out to him again either. Afterall, you aren't close. But you have a feeling you'll meet again anyway.
Back home, you open your camera, press a few buttons, and recover the photo that was deleted earlier. You hadn't even properly looked at the photo before it was gone. Now, looking at the person in the photo, those eyes, your heart is struck again.
You have quite a few interests, but photography was never one of them. You simply used it as a recording device for your everyday life, so you don't pay close attention to things like composition or lighting. But this photo before you, in terms of composition, lighting, and atmosphere, is objectively excellent- enough to be breathtaking.
A cliff, a setting sun, a sea of clouds with twilight overflowing, and a person standing in the center of the light like a god. The god turns his head through the long wind to meet your gaze. Even looking into those eyes through the photograph, you can feel the wind suddenly stop, and the mountains and seas falling silent.
You recall the distance between yourself and Sylus at the time; it was only a few meters, yet he gives off an extremely distant feeling in the photo. Perhaps it is his aloofness, like a cold moon hanging in the distant sky. Unlike many boys your age who try to feign profundity and indifference, his coldness seems to emanate from his very bones.
There's a saying: People are always attracted to those who are completely opposite to themselves, but those who are extremely similar to themselves are even more captivating. It's a saying about love. You don't think you've fallen in love with Sylus Qin at first sight, but you can't deny that you consider him very attractive. You've never felt this level of intense curiosity about anyone before. He is the first.Â
Before, you've always felt that life was meaningless. You were detached and uninterested in the world. Despite having just started college, you have no expectations for the future. Now, you finally have something to look forward to: Your second encounter with Sylus.
2. After dinner, you push your grandmother out in her wheelchair for a short walk.
Whenever the sun is away, the mountains are exceptionally cool. Every breath of air feels like it had been filtered through snowmelt soaked in bamboo leavesâmoist, cool, and refreshing. There are four roads in front of your grandmother's house. One leads to the cliff where you met Sylus, but it's all uphill. Another leads to the town, and you already saw the scenery along that route. You don't where the other two led, so you let your grandma choose: the flatter one it is.
This road isn't very steep, but it's still built on the hillside. One side is mountain, and the other a cliff. The view is extremely wide, showing the stream and dense forest below, and the distant, rolling mountain range. The scenery before you is undoubtedly beautiful, but you're somewhat distracted. You push your grandma forward slowly as she occasionally points out places to tell you their names and stories that had happened there.
"Do you see that bridge?" "Yes." "There used to be only a single plank of wood there. I walked on it since I was little and never fell. But the day I met your grandfather, I fell into the river. Your grandfather pulled me out, and then he built a bridge there." You aren't particularly interested in these old-fashioned love stories. "I see."Â
Your grandma senses your nonchalance and sighs softly. Ever since the wanderer accident, your personality really hasn't changed at all. You've been indifferent to everything and uninterested in anything.
"Y/N," your grandma who had been recounting your past throughout the walk, suddenly asks, "You haven't dated anyone yet, your second semester of freshman year?" "No," you reply simply. "Why don't you try finding someone?"
You grandma had always believed that if you wanted to, there would be a line of men willing to be your boyfriend stretching all the way to France. She's certain you didn't have a lack of suitors. "Too lazy," you grunt. Sure enough. She sighs again, then says gently, "Being in love is wonderful and interesting thing."
"Is that so?" You raise your chin slightly, but its unclear whether you were listening to her at all. Your eyes look into the distance, unfocused. Your grandma gently pats the back of your hand, deciding to offer one last word of advice: "Listen to Granny, give it a try. Fall in love a few times while you're young; it won't hurt."
You're silent for a while, before asking, "Does everyone have to fall in love in this life?" "There's nothing you absolutely have to do in this life." Your grandma follows your gaze, "But I've always believed that we should experience life to the fullest, with passion." "What we're passionate about is usually what we love, and love can be an object, an process, or even a person. If you find it hard to find something to love, then perhaps..." She smiles, as if thinking of something, "try to love someone."
As she speaks, your grandma turns her head, lowering her gaze to her wrinkled hand on the back of your own, softly saying, "Granny hopes you will do so. In this life, as long as you have and pursue something you love, no matter the outcome, it's worth it."
3. You walk around town listlessly. There's not much to do around here, if you're being honest. You don't expect to spend your time here productively, mostly to accompany your grandma before her health declines further.Â
As much as you're disinterested in the world around you, your grandma is someone you cared deeply about.Â
10 years ago, your entire family except for yourself and grandma was wiped out by the Chronorift disaster. While you survived, the doctors noted a disruption in your bones, but nothing they could quite pinpoint for sure. All you understood was that your body was slowly weakening, your bone marrow gradually becoming unable to sustain you. They couldn't give you an exact diagnosis, but it was undisputed that you wouldn't live a full lifetime.
The last doctor's visit you had before coming back to visit your grandma, they told you at the rate your body was declining, you had at most 10 years left.Â
You didn't really care. Your life as you knew it ended the day your house and everyone else in it was wiped out. You stayed in school in Linkon City because you knew it was what your parents would've wanted. You did judo because it was your brother's favorite sport. You stayed alive simply because there was still someone in the world that held onto you: your grandma, so you made sure to visit her every winter and summer break without fail.Â
Other than that, you've never tried, or allowed yourself to get too attached to this world. You knew you were going to die anyways. There was no point, right?
You make your way to the older, mostly empty part of town. Abandoned houses line the stone-paved road. You wonder who used to live in these.
Turning a corner, you hear muffled grunts coming from behind a crumbling brick wall. Cautious, you get into a defensive posture as you get closer.
AÂ trio of teenagers kick at a younger boy on the ground. One of them spits into his figure as he mocks, "where's your big, bad, demon to protect you now?" You frown, stepping into their line of vision.
"Hey," you call out, your voice monotonous, but clear enough to get their attention. "What's going on?"
The group turns to look at you, freezing for only a second before realizing a girl is not a threat.
"You're an outsider, so stay out of this." The tallest one snarls.Â
You simply stare at them with your dull eyes until one by one, they withdraw their gaze, clearly uncomfortable at your unsettling attitude.
"Let's go," the first speaks up again, giving the boy on the ground one last kick before leaving. You raise an eyebrow. He purposefully shoves your shoulder as he passes you. In the spur of the moment, you grab his arm and watch him eat a faceful of dirt.Â
"You!" he draws his arms back as he gets up, about to throw a punch. You raise your own fists, not deliberately challenging him, but steadfast enough to signal that you weren't going down easy.
He gives you a hard look before scoffing, "I don't hit girls, so I'm sparing you this once. I better not see you in my face again, or you'll get the burnt of it."Â
You watch as the possy of bullies leave, then make your way over the boy still on the ground. He sits up shakily, as if to check that they're gone. "You good?" you ask airily, pulling him to his feet. "Yes!" he quickly replies, "Thank you, I'm Mephisto! And you are..."
Your eyebrows raise at the unique name. It seems that there are more interesting people in this village than you originally assumed. "Y/N," you supply, turning around now that your job here is done. "Wait!" He calls, hurriedly limping next to you. "You were really cool just now! Did you train in martial arts before?" "Judo" you say. "I haven't seen you around before, whatcha doing in the mountains?" "On uni break, visiting my grandma." "Wow, that's amazing! I'll be graduating soon and heading to university as well!"
You have to admit that you're a little shocked. He seems quite a bit younger than you. His eager eyes remind you of a curious crow.Â
"Are all of the kids around here as talkative as you?"Â You already know one person who isn't: Sylus. Mephisto chuckles bashfully, "No, not really! I'm just thankful that you saved me!"Â Â A cheerful voice fills the air around you as you walk back to the village center.
4. Mephisto waves enthusiastically as he escorts you back to your grandma's house, insisting it was the "gentlemanly" thing to do after you saved him. Actually, he's just excited to have another human to talk to.Â
He'd have to take a long detour back home now. His leg is actually completely fine, but if he went the direct route and you saw him going up the stairs with no issues at all, you'd see through his intentions right away.Â
After walking for a while, a large villa comes into view. Mephisto sighs, pausing for a moment before crossing a long bridge that leads to the gilded front gates. Upon reaching the entrance, he calls out loudly, "Boss? Boss! Sylus!"
A moment later, a figure appears in front of the second-floor French windows.
Sylus has superhuman eyesight, immediately noticing the injury on Mephisto's forehead even from up there. He turns to go downstairs to open the door.
"Who did this?" is the first thing out of his mouth. Mephisto answers truthfully, "Some brats from the N109 gang." He adds quickly, "Don't bother getting back at them, I won't be running into them for much longer." Sylus hums in agreement, indicating for Mesphisto to come in, "let's get you patched up."
The wound on Mephisto's head wasn't small. Sylus brings out the first-aid kit to bandage it for him, sighing, "you humans get hurt so easily." Mephisto perks up, "Sylus, I was going to get beaten up even worse today, but someone I never saw before helped me! Guess who?" "Y/N" Mephisto is stunned for a few seconds. "How do you know her full name?" "I already met her a few days ago. We got to know each other somewhat."
"Oh..." Mephisto lowers his head, seemingly lost in thought. After a while, he looks up and smiles at Sylus, saying, "I think she's a lot like you, Boss! She looks cold on the outside, but is actually a very nice person." Sylus doesn't react to his comment, only asking, "how did she help you?"
Mephisto gets excited. "She's amazing! When she saw me get beaten up, she challenged their leader to a one-on-one fight, promising to take me away if she won. Then she just did an over-the-shoulder throw and the big bully couldn't even get up!" Mephisto's eyes are shinning with admiration. "You didn't see her skills! Holy crap, it was so cool!" He's about to stand up and demonstrate, but Sylus presses him back down, putting the last strip of tape on him. "Alright."
"Boss, why aren't you surprised at all? An over-the-shoulder throw!" "She's from the city, it's normal for her to learn some form of martial arts or something." "True." Mephisto raises his hand to touch the gauze on his forehead, wincing for a second.
"Let's go, I'll give you a ride home." "Boss you have a car??" Mephisto exclaims in surprise. "I've never seen you drive before!" "I can't take it out of this mountain, what's the point?" Mephisto immediately shuts his mouth, following Sylus out.
The "ride" Sylus was referring to is an all matte black motorcycle, with minimal red trim "A motorcycle?" Mephisto looks at the tank of a motorcycle in front of him, its demeanor completely out of place in the rural mountains. "I thought it would be a truck."Â
Sylus smirks, "If it were a truck, you think those squirts from N109 would've had the chance to hurt me?"
5. White clouds drift across the sky, their reflections pale and soft, unable to hide the darker depths beneath. You arrive at the cliff long before sundown today. The path up the mountain twists through seven or eight bends before opening onto the precipice. You know it well already. You choose the pine tree near the edge and set up your easel there. The sea stretches endlessly in the distance, a quiet expanse of blue. You begin sketching it onto the canvas.
Somewhere along the path behind you, someone stops. Sylus. You donât hear his footsteps, but you know heâs there, watching from afar. You turn around.
Across the distance, your eyes meet.
He starts toward you again, walking slowly, step by step. You donât wait for him to reach your side. Turning back to your canvas, you continue painting.
âAre all city people so multitalented?â His voice sounds beside youâlow, cool, but edged with a youthful tinge. You sit on a flat rock. The easel is heavy enough that you didnât bother bringing a stool. Now Sylus stands next to you, tall enough that you would have to crane your neck just to see his face.
You decide not to.
âThe multi-talented ones arenât city people,â you say evenly. âItâs just me.â A chuckle escapes him. You glance up. You want to see what he looks like when he laughs.
âIt seems,â he says, the corner of his mouth still lifted, âyou can do more than just those two things.â A brief flicker of amusement passes through his eyes. His smile has the careless charm typical of boys his ageâeasy, a little roguish, unexpectedly striking. You watch him for a moment. âTwo things?â âJudo and painting,â he says. âArenât those two?â
You pause, still looking at him. âWhy does Mephisto tell you everything?â âWho else would he tell?â Sylus replies. You remember what your grandmother said: that Sylus is the only one willing to play with Mephisto.
Your gaze drifts away. You raise your brush and add the final stroke. âFinished?â he asks. âYes.â âHow long have you been here?â âAbout half an hour.â âYou finished that quickly?â âDrawing the sea is easy.â He tilts his head slightly. âThen whatâs difficult to draw?â âPeople.â
You look up at him again. âI want to draw another one.â He raises an eyebrow slightly, waiting. âCan you be my model?â
For a moment, Sylus says nothing. His long lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes, moving gently in the sea breeze as he looks down at you.
âSure,â he says at last. âStand over there.â You point to a nearby tree.
He walks over and leans against the trunk, posture loose and casual. Some people look like a painting just by standing still. You take a slow breath without realizing it. Then you lower your gaze and replace the drawing paper.
âAnything else?â he asks when youâre almost ready. You pause while fixing the paper, looking up to meet his eyes. âLook at me.â Your voice is cool and clear, like falling snow. âAnd keep looking at me.â The wind lifts strands of your hair across your forehead, half-covering your eyes.
Sylus watches you through them. In truth, he has been looking at you the entire timeâbut the moment you say those words, his gaze falters.
Cicadas cry in the trees. Leaves rustle. For two seconds, his focus drifts, your figure blurring before his eyes. Then it sharpens again. Beneath the chorus of cicadas and wind, another sound grows louder: A heartbeat. He doesnât speak again. He simply follows your instructions: Looking at you, and continuing to look at you.
You paint for two hours. He watches you for two hours.
âDone.â You set the brush aside. Sylus straightens from the tree and walks over.
The painting is oil, but youâve incorporated the loose spirit of ink wash. The pine trees and sky behind him are rendered with only a few strokes, more of a suggestion than detail. The portrait isnât perfectly realistic, but it captures him unmistakably.
âVery well done,â he says. âHere.â You hand him the canvas. âTake it.â âThanks.â His lips curl slightly. You asked him to model, yet somehow heâs the one thanking you.
âLetâs go,â he says, âYour familyâs probably having dinner already. Iâll walk you home.â You glance toward the sun lowering toward the horizon and hum softly in agreement, packing away your paint box and easel. The easel looks heavy. âIâll carry it,â Sylus offers. âNo need.â You lift it easily. âYou carry the painting. The paint isnât dry.â He raises an eyebrow, amused. âAlright.â
You carry the easel while he walks beside you holding the painting. The evening breeze moves through his hair, tousling it like in the movies.
You recall your grandmother's words again: "Ten out of ten girls in this town like him." But judging from his expression, you don't recall ever seeing Sylus even be friendly with a girl before.
You're curious again. This time, however, you decide to ask directly. "Sylus, have you ever been in a relationship?" "No." Sylus' calm voice falls from above. "Why not? My grandmother said every girl here likes you. They're all so pretty. Are your standards that high?" "It's not that my standards are high, it's that I've never had that thought." He pauses for a second before suddenly stopping to look you in the eyes. "Hey. You know I can only play around with you, right?"
Something in the way he says those words make you think that his sentence might not just refer to you, but to everyone.Â
You guess it might be related to his background and experiences; perhaps this is the crux of all your curiosity about him. You don't intend to find out now, fearing that once the answer is revealed, you'll lose interest.
"Have you ever liked anyone?" You decide to change the subject. Sylus takes a moment to think about it this time. "No. And you?" It's his turn to ask you. "Have you ever liked anyone?"
His voice is low and slow, revealing no emotion, sounding almost like he cared, yet also as if he's just asking casually. Liking someone⊠Just then, you realize maybe you do like him a little, but you're more annoyed he stole your question. "No."
Sylus seems somewhat incredulous. A normal person of your age would definitely have someone they liked at some point, with even those a little less normal having felt some amount of attraction towards another person.
He is an exception though, of course.
âYou've probably met many outstanding boys in the city, how come you donât like any of them?â âThere can be lots of people out there, but Iâm not interested in any of them. Without interest, how can I like anyone?â You airily reply. âWhat kind of men would interest you?â he presses.
The mountain road is bumpy, as you don't dare be distracted while holding your easel. You halt in your step. The wind in your ears stop for a moment, and inertia causes the person behind you to lean forward. You feel his breath settle, brushing against the side of your neck.
Involuntarily, you tense and take a deep breath before turning around to meet his eyes.
âSomeone like you.â Sylus' expression freezes. As if taken aback by your words, he pauses for a few seconds before asking, "How?" "You're interesting," you hesitate before adding, "you intrigue me." Sylus chuckles. "This is the first time I've heard someone describe me like that."
"Then listen carefully." You stare intently into his eyes, unwavering. Your surroundings are quiet, the wind gentle, the cicadas' chirping hidden deep in the shade of the trees.
Your words are crystal clear.Â
"Sylus Qin, in this utterly boring world, you are the only thing I am curious about."
He trembles slightly upon hearing this. This is the first time you see such a clear surge of emotion in his eyes, like a raging storm brewing there.
"So, Sylus," you speak up again, "For the remaining month or so, either you make me fall completely, or you keep me curious forever, okay?" You tilt your head slightly, like a cat. Sylus' eyes darken, his gaze fixed on you. "Okay," he says.
Strangely, the road back home feels shorter.
5. Halfway down the path, you get a call from your grandma. She asks if youâre already on your way back and says Mrs. Zhou is cooking tonight. Even before you reach the house, the smell of food drifts through the air.
At the doorway, you stop. Sylus stops too. âSee you tomorrow.â You tilt your head slightly as you say it, your tone lifting at the end like a question. âSee you tomorrow,â he replies. The same words. But his sound certain.
You smile as the evening wind lifts your hair.
Even after you step into the courtyard, the smile on your face lingers. Anticipating tomorrow feels⊠surprisingly nice. You realize this new feeling with a start.
This person before you makes your heart skip a beat so easily.  It's highly unusual for someone like you, but perhaps it's because Sylus himself is not of the conventional kind either. He's special, mysterious, and a good person, you reason. Anyone would be easily moved. But it still doesn't fully account for how you possess an inexplicable attraction for him.Â
You think you may like him a little. At most, only a little. You haven't fallen for him yet.Â
This makes you quite intrigued. What if one day you really fall completely in love?
You've always wanted to know what it feels like to love someone, especially the kind of unwavering and intense love your grandmother had for your grandfather.
6. âLooks like my precious granddaughter is very happy today.â Your grandmotherâs teasing voice greets you from ahead.
You look up and laugh openly.
She smiles tooâwarm, gentle, satisfied. It has been a long time since she has seen you smile like that. âRemember to smile more,â she says kindly. âAt your age, your smiles are the most beautiful.â
You blink. Sheâs talking to you, but someone else comes to mind. Sylus. His smile really is handsome.
As for youâyouâve never tried to seem aloof. When something is interesting, you naturally smile. Itâs just that nothing had truly amused you before.
âLet me see what you drew today.â You show her the seascape you held onto. âYou went to the cliff,â she says immediately, recognizing the view. âYou met Sylus there, didnât you?â âYes. Does he go there often?â âI think so.â She smiles faintly. âI first saw that boy there too. When I was young, I liked watching the sunset from that cliff. After I came back here, I went again a few times⊠and he was always there.â
She sighs softly. âThe sunset there is beautiful,â she says. âBut he shouldn't have to only watch it thereâ
You donât quite understand what she means, the regret in her voice.
But you wonder, when you finally do understand... whether youâll feel the same sadness because of him.
7. It becomes routine now, meeting Sylus at the mountainside, keeping each other company until sundown. You curse yourself for not checking the weather forecast, the quiet sound of thunder rumbling in the distance cutting your usual meeting short.Â
âWe need to hurry. It might rain,â Sylus says, turning around to head back to the paved road. You donât want to walk faster. âEven if we go faster, we wonât get much faster.â The hill is steep, only to become slippery if rain falls. âTrue.â âWhat do we do if it starts pouring?â you ask. âLetâs find shelter first. Rain here usually doesnât last too long during the day.â âWhat if it keeps raining?â âIf it keeps rainingâŠâ Sylus pauses, actually stops walking for a moment, to think. âThen weâll just have to go back soaked.â
You roll your eyes, passing him on the road. But after only a few steps, you stop when Sylus calls your name from behind.
âY/N.â
It isnât as if no one has ever called you by your full name before. But when Sylus says it, your heart inexplicably skips a beat. Because of that subtle feeling, you pause for a moment before turning around. In the half second it takes you to turn, you hear a dull thudâlike someone kicking the mountain laurel tree beside you.
Startled, you instinctively close your eyes. When you open them again, Sylus is standing beneath a tree. And the laurel blossoms begin falling like rain.
The two of you gaze at each other through the drifting white petals.
Time seems to slow down. Even the petals seem to fall more slowly, and through the gaps between them you clearly see the smile in his eyes. You see the curve of his lips. The slight arc of his eyes. Then he speaks, his voice already beautiful without lowering it:
âBefore, this place was called once called Laurel Bend.â
You look at him, and suddenly your eyes burnâas if scorched by the fiercest midsummer sun.
It is midsummer. But the sky above is overcast.
Some powerful emotion slowly arises through your daze, steadily filling every corner of your heart. You think you will remember this moment for a very long timeâ
Petals drift down. The boy beneath the laurel tree laughs freely, like the wind.
In your illusion, time slows. But the real world never stops for anyone. Soon only a few petals drift from the breeze. Sylus notices the stunned look on your face, but he says nothing. He only looks at you, eyes slightly narrowed.
âSylus.â You finally regain your senses and call out to him. âYouâve really never been in love?â âNo.â âYou're quite talented then.â Sylus doesnât give you much of an reaction. âI probably wonât be in a relationship in this lifetime.â
You blink slowly, thinking for a moment, then ask calmly: âCan I be someone outside of that realm of âprobablyâ?â
A flicker passes through Sylusâs eyesâthen quickly sinks into something deep and dark. A breeze moves through the branches, knocking down another blossom or two.
He looks at you for a moment before answering: âThatâs up to you, not me.â
His voice reveals little emotion, but the meaning is very clear. If you want to date him... he would be willing to go along. The prerequisite for love⊠is like.
He likes you.
You suddenly laugh. âSylus, when did you start liking me?â He smiles too.
Heâs used to your bluntness, but heâs still slightly surprised whenever you say something unexpected.
âItâs hard to explain,â he says. He really canât explain it. But when you asked that question just now, the answer in his heart was already yes.
You tilt your head slightly. âItâs not love at first sight then.â
You had thought it might be; otherwise, falling so quickly would feel out of character for someone like him.
But human nature is complicated. Even the coldest person can smile when they meet the right one. Someone with a terrible temper can become gentle for the person they truly like. And those who seem confident and generous, who knows what insecurities they hide inside? Most people have two sides. Many sides. Sometimes even contradictions. Some even have hidden parts of themselves they donât realize exist.
Those simple labels people give each other are just stereotypes.
âIâm the kind of person who doesnât fall in love at first sight,â Sylus says. He pauses, then adds, âBut I can be attracted.â
Your brows relax. âYou and I are quite alike.â
The first time you saw him, you saw a little part of yourself in him. Now that feeling is even stronger.
You arenât someone who falls in love at first sight either. But you were intrigued.
Love at first sight is often just lust at first sight. If you could fall for someone instantly, you wouldnât have spent nineteen years without ever liking anyone. âBut I feel like Iâm the opposite of you."
Sylus takes two steps forward until heâs standing beside you.
âThat just means I donât understand you well enough yet,â you finish. âYou will understand,â he says with certainty.
You once told him he would either make you fall completely⊠or keep you curious forever. His tone suggests heâs confident about which one it will be. And he has the right to be confident.
Right now youâre not sure whether you only like him a little⊠or if youâve already fallen completely. You have no experience with love. You donât even know what âfalling completelyâ feels like.
âLetâs go,â Sylus says, glancing up at the dark clouds rolling in from the horizon. âItâll definitely rain within two hours. I donât know if we can make it back before then.â
You start walking. âThen why were you doing that earlier?â You mention the trees. Sylus follows beside you, saying nothingâonly chuckling softly.
Without the blazing sun, walking isnât too exhausting. The two of you abandon your usual languid stroll and walk quickly. At this pace, you definitely wonât need two hours to get home.
But the dark clouds move even faster. The rain suddenly pours down. Large drops splatter across the concrete road, leaving dark spots until the entire road turns black. Thereâs nowhere nearby that can fully shelter you from the rain, so Sylus pulls you beneath a dense canopy of trees.
âGive me your phone,â he says. You look at him in confusion. âWhy?â âMy pants are waterproof.â
His pants are cargo shortsâbesides the side pockets, there are snap pockets on the front. Once theyâre closed, rain canât get inside.
You take out your phone but donât give it to him immediately. Instead, you twirl it in your hand while looking him up and down.
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â he asks. âSylus⊠did you know it would rain today?â âIf I had known,â he says, âwould I have taken you this far?â âSo itâs just a coincidence? You just happened to be wearing these pants.â âYeah.â He chuckles. âAnother coincidence.â
You look at the curve of his lips and press your tongue lightly against the inside of your mouth.
âAt first, I thought you were someone who didnât smile much.â âI donât like to laugh,â he says. He says it while smiling. You narrow your eyes. âThen why have you been laughing so much lately?â âDonât you know why?â Sylus looks at you with those deep black eyes. âI donât know.â You keep twirling your phone and gesture at him with your chin. âTell me.â
You want him to say it himself.
Heâs always circling around the truthâsaying things like Iâll play along, Iâll play to the end, whether youâre there or not is up to me. Indirect admissions, never a clear answer.
But this time he only says three words. âI wonât say.â âWhat canât you say? You already admitted it.â
His expression remains calm.
Compared to you, the one whose heart is moving, he looks like someone experienced, someone whoâs navigated countless emotions without ever losing control.
âAdmitting it is one thing,â he says. âSaying it out loud without a positive response is another.â You stare at him. âHow do you know I didnât respond positively?â âThen let me ask you something.â He leans against the tree trunk, eyelids half-lowered. Calm? Confident? Itâs hard to tell which. âHave you fallen for me?â His voice is relaxed, lazy even. âCompletely?" Youâve already thought about this question before. You donât know the right answer. And if youâre unsure⊠then maybe you havenât. âNo.â
Sylus laughs again. âWhat are you laughing at now?â âI wonât say.â
The three light words land in your ears like feathers, tickling your heart. This ambiguous, but tempting feeling is unbearable. âSylus, youâre annoying.â âYeah,â he admits easily. âI am.â
Fine. Maybe he isnât the one whoâs annoying. Maybe youâre the one about to explode.
At that moment, a raindrop falls from the tree and hits your forehead.
Sylus chuckles. âGive me your phone. This tree wonât last much longer.â You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down, and finally hand it to him.
The rain continues pouring. Drops keep falling from the leaves, and judging by the heavy clouds, it doesnât seem like it will stop anytime soon.
You glance at the sky. âWill this rain stop?â Sylus looks at the darkened sky. âItâll probably rain until tomorrow.â Then he adds, âIt should get lighter later.â âShould we wait here for a while?â you ask. âRainy days get dark early,â he replies. âIf we wait too long, itâll be night.â
âSoâŠâ Sylus turns toward you. He slips his hands into his pockets, tilts his head slightly back, and slowly steps out into the downpour. âWant to get soaked with me?â
Within seconds his hair is drenched, yet he doesnât look messy. Because his head is tilted back, the rain sweeps his hair away from his face instead of plastering it down. His forehead is fully revealedâclean, youthfulâonly a few strands falling forward. Thereâs a natural wildness to him. Reckless. Free.
Your heart starts pounding uncontrollably again.
Youâve seen plenty of good-looking people in your life. None of them impressed you much. You always thought you were indifferent to appearances. But apparently⊠you can still be stunned.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. âDo I have any other choice?â Your voice remains calm despite the chaos inside you.
Sylus keeps his head tilted back. âThereâs a big difference between choosing to get wet and being forced to get wet.â
âBut I donât want either.â You want to see what else he can come up with. Then he says: âWhat if you get an invitation??â
A third option.
He always seems to find one.
You clasp your hands behind your back. âAre you inviting me?â âYes.â He extends his hand toward you through the rain. âIâm inviting you.â
No bowing. No kneeling. That kind of Western formality doesnât suit someone raised in the mountains. This is what suits him best: head slightly tilted back, long fingers casually extended. Open. Effortless.
You lower your gaze to his palm as rainwater quickly gathers in it. A quiet laugh rises in your chest.
You place your hand in his, just as naturally, and look up at him. âThen Iâll reluctantly accept your invitation.â
Sylus smiles.
His fingers tighten around yours as he pulls you along The two of you run together into the rain. Â
8. You overestimate your abilities. The dowsing of rainwater sends you into a fever the same evening.Â
Your grandmother frets over you, aghast, "what were you thinking? It's not like you don't know the severity your own condition!" You register her words, barely. But for once, under the onslaught of the failure of your own body, you feel no regrets. Â
The night goes on, your fever unrelenting. Thunder roars across the skies, followed by cracks of lightning. You grandma rubs her knuckles in worry. Because of the storm, the roads are in no condition for cars to traverse. If you needed any medical attention, there's no taxis or drivers around to help.Â
Finally, around 3am, she goes to knock on Mephisto's door.Â
The young boy opens it in surprise, immediately wheeling the old lady in. "I have an important favor to ask of you," she croaks, still shivering from the rain. "Can you please ask Sylus to borrow his motorcycle? My granddaughter... she needs to go to the hospital." "I... I can call," Mephisto agrees, hesitantly. "But you are aware that..." "Yes, I know. I was hoping you would be able to take her."Â
Mephisto stiffens, but makes the call. After briefly explaining the situation to Sylus, he hands over the phone.
"Grandma, Mephisto isn't experienced enough to take the motorcycle down the mountain in these conditions." Sylus' voice crackles across the phone line. Her hand tightens on the receiver, "what can I do, Sylus?" A pregnant pause falls between the two of them before Sylus finally speaks up again. "I'll take her." Your grandma's voice falls to a hushed whisper. "Thank you, Sylus."  "No need, it was my fault to begin with." "Don't... strain yourself. If Mephisto can go with you, drop him off with Y/N as soon as they can get a ride." Her voice is thick with emotion as she thanks him again, and hangs up the phone.Â
Sylus arrives within the hour, wearing nothing but a wide-rimmed hat and a wind-breaker. Your grandmother barely has time to scold him about staying warm and dry as he towels off, wrapping you in a blanket, then a rain poncho. Mephisto comes by as well, sandwiching you between himself and Sylus on the motorcycle, holding you up for extra support.Â
The steep, winding road down the mountain is even more eerie at night, the headlights of the motorcycle providing the only source of illumination a few yards ahead. The shadows of the forests seem endless, the darkness close to swallowing the road on both sides, as the rain continues to hammer down.Â
After nearly an hour, the lights of the town below finally come into view. As Sylus turns onto the main road, his arms begin to tremble slightly.Â
Mephisto is about to say something, but he interrupts, "we're almost there."Â
Sylus manages to pulls up to the front of the urgent care clinic, stumbling a little as he dismounts. Mephisto grabs his arm to stabilize him, before gathering you in his arms.Â
Sylus nods at him to go in as Mephisto gives him one last look of worry as he carries you into the building, calling out, "she's safe with me now. You should hurry and head back now, thank you for all the help... I'm sorry."Â
"Don't worry about it." He suddenly remembers, "Oh right, I have one last favor to ask of you." "Yeah?" "If Y/N wakes up and asks about me, tell her I had to go home because of an emergency. Don't tell her anything yet." Hearing the sound of more vehicles pull up to the entrance, Mephisto seems to visibly deflate a little, then agrees. "Alright."Â
Taking one last look at the hospital, Sylus sits back heavily on his motorcycle, taking a moment to gather his breath before turning around.Â
The twins held his father's men off for as long as they could. At least he got you here.
Tall figures emerge from the cars, saying nothing. Some walk ahead as others follow behind, coming up to Sylus. He follows them back to a dark vehicle, and the car quickly starts and returns the way it came, taking him back to the villa on top of the mountain.Â
The car drives straight into the villa's garage, and Sylus belatedly wonders if they brought his motorcycle back with him too.Â
He gets out of the car, and the other people in the driver's seat and backseats follow suit. The last person walking in from the yard closes the garage door. The driver walks up to Sylus and bows to him.Â
Straightening up, he speaks with a condescending tone, a weary smile dancing across his face. "Sorry, young master. Your father's orders."Â
With that, he raises his leg and kicks Sylus in the stomach mercilessly.Â
9. Sunlight streams through the blinds when you wake up.Â
The first thing you notice is the smell of disinfectant in the hospital. Then, you crack open your eyes to see the pure white ceiling of the ward and the IV drip hanging from the medical pole in the corner of your vision.Â
Your first reaction is a smile. You weren't dreaming. You had a high fever, and Sylus really did bring you to the hospital.Â
"Y/N, you're awake!" It's your grandmother's voice. You turn your head to see her holding your hand, her expression a mixture of joy and worry. "You don't know how scared I was!" "I'm not dead" You speak comfortably, though your voice is still a little hoarse. "How could I not worry? Being unconscious for two full days is no small matter." Your grandma's brows are still furrowed. "I'm awake now, aren't I?" "Yes... It's good that you're finally awake." She pats your hand, saying nothing more, no scolding for getting caught in the rain.Â
Mephisto, standing nearby, quickly says, "now that you're awake, I'll go get some food. How's porridge? What kind do you want?" "Corn, mung bean, chicken, anything is fine." "Ok, I'll go now." "Wait," you call him as he's about to bolt out the door. "Where's Sylus?" His expression flickers with unease. Your grandma also shifts her gaze out the window. "He... had an emergency and went back home first."
"Oh..." You realize you've never heard Sylus mention his family before. Your voice trails off, but no emotion can be discerned.Â
Just then, a nurse comes in to inquire about your condition, asking you a laundry list of questions. A few minutes later, a doctor comes in to do a simple examination, and says there's no problems. You were free to leave after your IV drip, but with your condition, there was a possibility that the fever would come back. Since your grandma lived all the way up in the mountains, he recommended you stay in the hospital for another night for observation.
Your grandma immediately agrees, opting to stay on the safe side. You had no wish to stay in the hospital any longer; you hated the smell of disinfectant, and was tired of the white ceilings and sterile walls you've gotten used to in the city. But, you endure it to not worry her.Â
Before meeting Sylus, the only person you cared about in your life was your grandma. Now he is included too.Â
Mephisto returns right as the doctor leaves your room. You didn't have much of an appetite, but you haven't eaten anything for over a day now, so you force down half a bowl of mung bean porridge.Â
Evening falls, yet you don't feel sleepy at all. Probably from being knocked out for nearly two days.Â
Noticing your state, your grandma puts down her book and looks at you. "Want to chat for a bit?" she asks. "What do you want to talk about?" She smiles and says, "I saw you and Sylus were quite close last time. How far have things progressed between you two?" You think for a moment. "Still... kinda ambiguous I guess." "So he's interested in you, and you're interested in him too?" "I like him." You say it directly.
Your grandma is startled at first, then a look of relief washes over her face. "My precious granddaughter! It's like an iron tree has finally bloomed!"
"Shouldn't you be opposing this?" you ask. "Why not?" "I'm leaving after summer. I'm not going to live past thirty. There's no chance of a happy ending for the two of us."
Your grandma slowly takes a breath, then smiles. "Just because something doesn't have a good ending doesn't mean the process can't be beautiful. How can you choose not to start a beautiful relationship just because of an uncertain outcome? What era are we living in? Not every relationship has to be aimed at marriage. And of course, I'm happy that you've finally taken this step. As for Sylus... I'm also happy for him that he's willing to open his heart to someone."
For some reason, tears well up in your grandmother's eyes, but she quickly blinks them back. "Perhaps... Your appearance is God's only gift to him"
You don't know what Sylus has gone through, but hearing those words, you feel a small stab of pain. Before, when your grandmother said he was pitiful, you felt only curiosity. Now, you feel none. You only feel heavy-hearted.Â
That night, you remain low spirited, listless, almost lost in thought.Â
10. The next morning, you wake up unusually early, as if you couldn't wait to go back and see someone.Â
It's nearly noon when you return. After showering and washing your hair, you quickly eat lunch and grab Mesphisto to set out and find Sylus.Â
The road to Sylus' home is winding and sharp. Before each turn, the view in front is completely blocked. At each bend, you feel a small surge of anticipation rising in your chest, hoping to see him around the next corner.Â
Yet, you get all the way to the bridge in front of the large villa without seeing anyone.Â
Arriving at the front door, the gate swings open before you knock. A pair of twins stare at you with beady eyes. "Wait two minutes." The door closes in your face again.
Frowning, you keep time on the watch on your wrist. Two minutes pass. You look up to see Sylus standing in the doorway.Â
A flicker of surprise crosses your eyes, followed by a frown.
Sylus has a black eye and other abrasions on his face. His exposed arms and calves are overed in bruises. He doesn't hide his wounds, simply standing before you, battered and all. He looks disheveled, but seems unconcerned, even raising his sharp chin in greeting.Â
"Did you get into a fight?" you ask. He replies lazily. "It wasn't much of a fight." You tilt your head. "Indeed. A one-sided beating."
Your answer must have tickled his fancy. He chuckles, but the corners of his mouth turn down, his expression telling you: yes, not only was it one-sided, but he had gotten beaten up pretty badly. "Who hit you?" "Don't ask." "Tell me." Sylus' tone is indifferent. "Didnât you say you wanted me to keep you curious?â Your gaze hardens. âYouâve already made me curious enough.â
Sylus has no intention of telling you, simply stepping aside and saying, "Come in, don't you mind the sun?"
You don't press further, following him through the foyer and into the living room.Â
The house is huge, opulent, and decorated ostentatiously with a variety of metals, stones, and even jewels. You notice, however, a corner with a completely different style. Several glass display cases are filled with maps and antique globes. "Can you show me the your maps?" you ask. "You're interested in cartography?" "No." You reply without a beat. "But I'm curious about the things you're interested in." Your words successfully make Sylus laugh again. "Let's go then."
You're about to follow when you're tripped by a fluffy ball of fur. You look down to see a ragdoll cat, cream with luxurious fur, rubbing against your leg, meowing sweetly.Â
Hearing the meow, Sylus turns around to look at you. "It wants you to hold her." He supplies.
"I've never held a cat before." Your mother was allergic to animal fur, meaning you never had much contact with animals growing up. As you got older... well, you weren't curious about them either. You couldn't say whether you liked or disliked these pretty animals; you've never had the urge to touch them. But your eyes would unconsciously follow pet owners and their companions.Â
Seeing you standing there motionless, Sylus walks over and picks up the cat. "Her name is Dragon. Raise one hand and put it on your stomach."Â You do as you're told, palm facing inwards, as if you're rubbing your tummy. Sylus couldn't help but laugh. "Palm facing upwards, or else Dragon won't have anywhere to stand."Â
Your face shows a rare hint of embarrassment. Once you're in the right position, Sylus holds the cat, letting her hind legs rest on your hands and her front paws on your shoulders. He pats the cat's head gently, murmuring, "you keep those claws in."
You're startled by the deep voice.Â
You blink, then instinctively raise your other hand to place it on Dragon's back. Your attention is instantly drawn to the soft, cotton-like texture, almost as if you're holding a cloud.Â
Dragon sniffs your chin, then lightly licks you. Your eyes widen instantly. It's the first time Sylus has seen such an expression on your face, and he looks on with amusement.Â
Dragon licks you again, and your eyes widen even further. "It's... licking me?" "Yup." "Why is it licking me?" "To leave her scent on you, to assert dominance." He chuckles. You're a little confused. "Does it assert its dominance on everyone like this?" "Nope. Only you, and me." Sylus emphasizes the last two words slightly, his gaze fixed on you. His eyes seem to hold a whirlpool, and you feel yourself falling into it.Â
Your gaze doesn't last long, as Dragon shifts her attention to your neck, suddenly deciding to nip at it. You look at Sylus again, frowning.Â
"You never answered my question."Â "Hmm?" "Were you beaten up here?" "Yes." "Was it the other gang of kids?" You wouldn't think so... "No." "Was it..." you remember Mephisto's saying he had a family emergency. "Was it your family?" "No." He pauses for a second, then adds, "actually, you could say that."
You look at him. He's expressionless as you involuntarily frown.Â
Dragon takes the opportunity to leap out of your arms.
Finally, as the room dims, he speak up, softly. "Do you want to watch a movie?" You hum, neither in agreement nor objection. "I have a large collection" he replies, making his way to the couch.
You watch Dragon purr as she nudges at his legs. "You can choose; I don't have a strong preference for these kinds of things."
Sylus turns on the TV and clicks on the viewing history. Down the list, you see some familiar, highly-rated films, but the majority are documentaries and road movies.Â
Sylus flips through the films one by one: "The Most Dangerous Game", "Pretend It's a City," "BBC Earth", "Planet Earth", "South Pacific", "The Polar Regions", "Where the Trail Ends"...
"You have... very interesting tastes," you comment offhandedly. Sylus raises an eyebrow. "Not everyone can go to many places."Â He finally lands on "The Shawshank Redemption", and presses play.
11. The Shawshank Redemption tells the story of Andy, who, after being wrongfully imprisoned, meticulously plans his escape and eventual freedom.
Combining this story with the other collections in Sylus' home, you can't help but wonder: does he see a reflection of himself in the main character? Is he also trapped in something like a prison, unable to escape, confined without freedom?
If that's the case, then your first curiosity about him has an answerâ He said he wasn't like the wind, because the wind is free.
A piece of your chest collapses like a landslide during a storm, with boulders tumbling down and mud rushing through. This shouldn't be happening. The first day you met him, at first sight, you felt that he was like the wind, unconfined and limitless.
"Sylus." You turn to look at him, your voice hoarse. âYou said that not everyone can go to so many places. Does that include you?â Sylus seems unsurprised by your question. âYes,â he answers, face expressionless.
You already anticipated this answer, but you still wanted to hear him confirm this yourself before you move onto your subsequent question:Â
âThen where can you go?â Sylus barely moves his gaze as he calmly replies. âJust this mountain.â
A sharp pain shoots through your heart, followed by surprise. You thought he could at least go to the town; after all, he had taken you to the hospital just two days ago... Thinking of this, your pupils suddenly contract, gaze fixed on the wound on his cheek. âSoâŠâ You involuntarily clench your fists, pausing for half a second before continuing, âYou got hurt because you took me to the hospital, out of this mountain, right?â âYes.â âWhy?â
You desperately want the answer, but not out of curiosity. You simply wanted to know out of concern for him.
But Sylus simply replies, âDonât ask. Didnât you say that I have to keep you curious until you completely fall for me?â You're momentarily stunned, only then remembering what you had said in the beginning. Seeing your expression change, Sylus smiles and continues. "When that day comes, or when you leave, I'll tell you everything."
You don't give him a reply, your eyes unfocused, as if deep in thought. After a while, a shadow of gloom crosses your gaze, as if you've made your mind up about something.
"Then I'll ask you one last question: Can I help you?" Compared to this relationship, you believe his freedom is more important. He's like the wind, so he should be free.
"No." Sylus speaks with utmost certainty, adding, "I'm absolutely certain."
The moment he utters the first word, you feel your single pillar of hope crumble.Â
The way you were before, you thought you had made peace with the world, allowing everything to happen the way it was, and accepting it with equanimity. But with Sylus, you find that his situation was the one thing you can't seem to be ok with. How can someone like him be trapped here?
You're certain that he'd be the most outstanding not matter where he goes. Yet, he can only stay away, deep in these mountains. He was born with the the most magnificent wings, yet is robbed of the ability to fly, trapped in this cage.
How could this be⊠Even if his cage is decorated in gold, it's still... just a cage.
You think that if Sylus was given a choice, he'd prefer to be the most average, unexceptional person if he could live a peaceful, ordinary life.Â
But why can't he escape?
You can't think of any logical reason why he's trapped here. You also can't understand why he's so certain you couldn't help him.
As if sensing your doubt, Sylus speaks again.Â
"Don't try to do anything for me, lest they do something to you. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me." He looks at you quietly, continuing with a low voice, "Especially not you." You're even more puzzled. "What could they do to me?" "It's the mountains, the terrain is complicated, and there's no cameras. It's easy to do anything." He doesn't even mention the supernatural aspect, but it's already clear enough.
Your eyes widen as you frown, clearly shocked. âAre you sure they dare to go this far?â As if recalling something, Sylus' eyes darken. âIâm sure.â
The room is enclosed, yet you suddenly feel a cold wind rush in.
Your heart feels as if it's been torn open by this wind, your entire chest filling with an unbearable chill. Yet even this biting wind doesn't dispel the heavy, oppressive clouds that blot out the sky. Your whole world turns a suffocating, leaden gray.
You don't want to accept this reality, yet you have no choice but to.
You look at Sylus. After a long time, your gaze gradually returns to the calm they had in the beginning. âI understand,â you murmur, lowering your eyes. You appear calm on the outside, but it hurts to breathe.Â
âButâŠâ You remember your grandmother's words, smiling bitterly as you say, âYou shouldnât be someone whoâs only meant to stay here.â
12. It is in this moment that you realize with a start: something is off with Sylus' emotions. You, a bystander, are feeling this unbearable sorrow, while he acts as if nothing's wrong. Just now, he directly tore open his greatest wound for you to see, yet his expression remains terrifyingly calm, smiling even.Â
Suddenly, you recall the first day you met him, when you stood on the edge of the cliff and offhandedly mentioned that it was a good place to jump off of. He wasn't surprised at all, humming in agreement.
A terrifying possibility surfaces in your mind. Your expression hardens.
"Sylus." Your throat tightens, and you swallow before continuing. "The day I met you, you were standing on the edge of the cliff. What were you thinking?" Sylus' eyes darken for a second before letting out a slow exhale. "About jumping." He admits lowly. Just as you thought... "Then... why... didn't you?"
The words leave your mouth before you have time to regret it. In truth, you have no right to question him. You were also indifferent to life and death, vowing to fully respect others' choices. You know very well that death was a release for some people. At long as they have carefully thought it through, you wouldn't try to dissuade them. Even if you loved them. Even if that person was your grandmother.
Those who truly wish to die cannot be persuaded. They will simply find a time and place no one can stop them and make the choice without hesitation. The reason someone hasn't taken that step means they still have some hesitation, or fear death.Â
You're sure Sylus is not the latter. Then the reason he hesitated... must be that something has brought him peace. You want to know what that something was. A strong intuition tells you... it has something to do with you.
"I realized it was too worthless to go like this."Â Sylus speaks, his expression serene, his gaze falling on you like the first, thin rays of morning light.
He turns to face the screen, the light and colors constantly shifting on his face. Sometimes bright, sometimes dark, but his eyes seem completely undisturbed by the outside world, like a dense forest shrouded in perpetual fog.
"I always felt... I had to wait a little longer, that I was waiting for something that would make me feel that my existence isn't in vain." A faint flicker finally appears in his eyes. Your voice is slightly hoarse. "You waited this entire time?" He turns slowly to look at you. His expression is indifferent, but the gaze in his eyes are very deep. "I found it."Â
You feel a slight tug at your heart. After a long pause, you let out a dry laugh. "Don't say it's me." "It's you." he says it so frankly.
Your heart clenches, as if his gaze pierces straight through your chest, into the deepest crevices of your heart.Â
"There's things that I want to tell you later." Sylus looks at you, his tone soft. "I thought I lost the right to love someone the moment I was born, until you appeared before me." He smiles. "Meeting you, maybe my life has been worth it after all." His gentle voice is like a knife cutting through stone and ice, striking your eardrums with every word.Â
You're stunned.Â
Your grandmother's regretful words echo in your mind. You finally understand an inkling of what she meant. For Sylus, his life in the mountains are shackles, a burden, or maybe even irony.Â
But you are different.Â
You don't belong here. You wouldn't, can't, be trapped by him, not by your free-spirited heart, or by your inherent virtues. Otherwise, no matter what you looked like, Sylus probably would've treated you the same as all the other girls in town.Â
Meanwhile, he could let himself sink into despair at will.
This is probably why your grandma had knew from the beginning that something was bound to happen between the two of you. It was inevitable that he would fall for you. But it seems... that they (and you yourself) had overestimated you as well.
You take a deep breath.
"Don't tell me you're going to jump off that cliff as soon as I leave." "No." Sylus smiles. "If you hadn't appeared, I probably wouldn't have lasted another season. But now, I think I can continue to live for a few more years." You can't describe the feeling when you heard this. "Promise me?" "I promise." He laughs. "Just don't think of me once you're gone."
13. After much convincing and hedging, Sylus later teaches you how to ride his motorcycle.
He pulls out the key and holds onto one of the handlebars. "Get on first." You obey, hopping onto the seat, your feet dangling off the ground. "Hold the handlebars and straighten it."
The bike is quite heavy as you get used to the weight of steering.
"These are the front brakes," Sylus explains, pointing to the brake lever on the right handlebar grip, "and the rear brake is by your foot. You'll mainly rely on the front ones, and the rear when going at slow speeds. But it's a delicate balance, especially if you're going at higher speeds." He moves closer as he speaks. "Scooch up a little, I'll show you how to use them."
You release your hands as Sylus leans in from beside you , reaching for the right handlebar, bringing you even closer together. You can smell his scent.
"Position your hand like this so you can grip the brake easily." After demonstrating, he releases and pulls his hand back. "You try." You follow his lead and squeeze. "Good. Now looks here," he points to the throttle next. "This is the throttle. You can think of it as the accelerator. Twist it here to move the bike, but don't twist it too hard at the start, or the bike will lurch forward. This also controls the speed; twist it lightly for a slow bike, and twist it all the way to maximum speed." You nod in understanding.
"Do you mind if I touch you?" Sylus suddenly asks. You raise an eyebrow, slightly incredulous. "Mind what? Haven't you manhandled me plenty already?" Sylus lips curl into a slight smile as he lightly taps the handlebars with two fingers. "Look here."
You look down to see him raise his hand, then lower it, his palm covering the back of your own. Though you've held hands before, the moment his palm touches the your hand, you still feel a jolt of electricity. Every nerve in your body seems to tremble.
"Don't get too distracted." Sylus' deep voice falls beside your ear, his breath brushing against the back of your neck. Your eyes snap back into focus. "Watch carefully." His breath sweeps over your ears again. You want to raise your hand, as if to itch it, but you refrain, his hand still on yours. Sylus holds your hand and slowly turns the handle.
"Try it yourself." He withdraws his hand, but doesn't pull back completely, still leaning beside you.
You go through the motions twice.
"Let me turn on the ignition so you can feel it." He inserts the key and reminds you, "Remember to turn it slowly like how I showed you." "Got it." You slowly turn the throttle and feel the bike start. The speed is quite slow, enough for Sylus to walk beside you.
Feeling adventurous, you increase the speed a bit, leaning forward into the bike. Sylus beings to jog. Soon, you reach a dead end, having to either turn around or stop.
"Try turning," Sylus calls.
You do so without any hesitation, but as someone with no experience and wobbly in a straight line, you immediately fall off. Fortunately, you weren't going too fast. You react quickly, bracing yourself on your feet. Sylus appears beside you in a flash, pulling the bike back.
"You're going a little too slow; the slower you go, the harder it is to maintain balance." "I'll go faster then." You frown, taking the handlebars from him, ready to try again. "Wait," Sylus stops you. "Let me take you for a couple of laps first."
Without waiting for your reply, he lifts his long legs to sit behind you, hands covering your own again, the way he did during the demonstration. You're stunned. In this position, you're completely enveloped in his arms, as if you're being hugged from behind.
"Let's go." Sylus doesn't give you much time to adjust. He twists the handlebars, turns the corner, and takes you on two laps around the field.
The wind blows from the front, lifting your hair. It's possible that it's blocking his view, so he releases one hand to brush your hair behind your ear, the movement so natural as if you are longtime friends, or even lovers.
The breeze is cool, but you feel a restless heat. âHold on tight, Iâm gonna let go.â You blink, then hum in agreement.
Perhaps your voice is drowned out by the wind. Sylus brings his lips even closer to your ear and asks, "Did you hear me?" His voice is incredibly magnetic, deep and resonant. âYou can let go now.â Despite your erratic heartbeat, your voice is steady.
Sylus doesn't completely remove his hand, but places it to the side as before, so he could control the direction and speed in case of danger.
Riding faster definitely makes it easier to maintain balance. You feel the handlebars are lighter and turning more smoothly. You successfully complete a lap around the yard.
âKeep going.â Seeing that you're almost ready, Sylus suggests, "Wanna try riding on the actual road?"Â
The roads outside are all winding mountain roads; even the slightest misstep could send you tumbling down a cliff. Even experienced drivers have to be extremely careful here, yet here he is, letting someone who's only been riding for less than half an hour attempt it.
You brake and turn your head. Sylus leans back for a split second as you turn, otherwise you definitely would have kissed.
Your gaze flickers as you realize why he had turned back, your mind blanking for a moment before remembering your words. "Do you want me to die?" "I'm here, what are you afraid of?" Sylus maintains his lounging posture, releasing his hands and bracing himself against the back. His voice carries a lazy, half-smiling tone.
"I'm not afraid of death, but I don't want to die now." A clear smile appears on Sylus' lips. "So little confidence in me?" You scoff. "After all, you're keeping secrets from me." "It doesn't matter." Sylus speaks slowly and deliberately, "Then I'll die with you."
His voice trails off naturally, carrying an indescribable weariness, like amusement, or nonchalance, or perhaps a calm indifference to life and death.
You realize with a shudder that perhaps he isn't just joking. He is truly willing to die with you. That deep, languid voice involuntarily echoes in your mind again. You can clearly feel your heart contract â then pound wildly.
14. "Boss!"
Sylus turns his head, seeing Luke and Kieran jogging up the hill towards him, their wings momentarily coming out of hiding to help them reach the peak of the mound quicker than their otherwise human legs.Â
"Just now, Y/N ran into some of creatures in the N109 gang on the road! She seems to have hit their leader at some point, so two of his underlings tried to stop her from leaving, and she got into a scuffle with them again." Luke is nearly out of breath as he is the first to approach the resting halfling.Â
"We were cutting grass in the nearby field when I heard them say once "His Highness" is no longer bed-ridden, they'll send more of them out to find her."
Sylus' expression turns cold. "Thanks." He utters the single word, having already taken several steps forward.
"Boss!" Kieran catches up to him, daring to grab his arm. "You know those demons plays dirty. You've already crossed paths with them because of Mephisto before. In your current condition, are you sure you want to completely antagonize them because of this girl?"
Sylus frowns, glancing at the hand gripping him. "Let go."
Kieran refuses, still clamping down tightly. "I know you like her. I've had this feeling for a while, that you wouldn't stand by idly. But please, don't be impulsive. She's only here for a little bit. Don't let someone who's only staying here for two months cause chaos for you in the future. She has to leave eventually. Just let her leave sooner."
"I don't want her to leave early." Sylus turns to look at the twins without a moment's hesitation.Â
Besides, he knows that you won't leave early because of this. He's only known you for a few weeks, but based on that lone, he's certain that you aren't someone who fears trouble. In fact, he'd dare to say you're more rebellious than you initially let on. He doesn't tell the twins this.
Kieran is taken aback by his words. When he speaks again, his tone is incredulous. "Boss, you really like her that much? She's only been here for days!"
Compared to their lifetimes, your presence in Sylus' life is nothing more than a drop of water, yet he's already willing to be punished because of you, and to go against the N109 gang? What would happen next once he spends more time with you?
"Are you really going to let yourself get so deeply involved?" Luke presses, voice rising. "She'll leave gracefully while you'll be stuck in all sorts of trouble! Why bother?" "Are you really going to let yourself get so deeply involved?" Sylus laughs. The twins freeze.
Having known him for decades, they've rarely seen him smile. But now, not only is he smiling, but his eyes hold a tenderness they've never seen before.
"I never thought of moving on," Sylus says with a smile. "I will always love her. Until the day I die."
15. Despite your mundane life up in the mountains, summer passes too quickly for your liking. On an otherwise sweltering late summers day at sea-level, Sylus brings you to a special place.
Stepping out of the mist between tree branches, you arrive at a clearing.Â
The trees are surrounded by rolling grasslands;Â a lush green expanse as far as the eye could see, with an exceptionally quiet atmosphere. Your stop in your tracks. It looks even more magnificent than the scenes in movies.
"How did you find this place?" You ask, breathlessly. "When I don't know what to do with myself, I wander aimlessly around the mountain." Sylus replies. "One day, I was walking and walking... until I ended up here." "Have you explored the entire mountain?" "More or less. There's no place in this mountain I don't know."
The expression on his face when he says these words carry a hint of melancholy. You immediately understand. It isn't something he is proud of; simply proof of his captivity.
"Do you think anyone else has been here?" You try to change the subject. "Of course." "Who else could have found this place?"
Throughout the journey, you haven't seen a trace of humankind. You and Sylus waded through water, climbed trees, and ducked under overgrowth to venture this far into the deep forests. Very few people are as fearless as Sylus.
Sylus simply laughs. "Guess how these trees came to be?"
Only then do you realize that the species of cypress trees here are an introduced specimen, originally native to the Mediterranean.Â
"This tree is so big, it must be many decades old..." you murmur in appreciation as you lean against the twisting trunk. "When were cypress introduced here?" "They say... that there was once a group of highly educated youth who returned from studying abroad. Well, it was more like wealthy young people experiencing life than getting an education, but maybe one of them brought back cypress seeds and planted them here."Â "Then he must have had quite an adventurous spirit." You remark. "How was he not afraid of getting lost and dying up here?"
As you speak, a breeze picks up behind you, the tassel-like flowers of the cypress swinging in the wind, carpeting the ground with small white petals.Â
Sylus looks up at the tree, its white blossoms falling like a mist. A fleeting look of sorrow crosses his eyes, but it quickly transforms into a faint smile.
"Do you know the meaning of cypress in flower language?" He asks. You shake your head. "What?" "Waiting for love in despair." Your breath hitches. Both you and Sylus had waited for each other in despair.Â
"However," Sylus lowers his eyes. "There's a source that adds another sentence before that." He turns to look at you. "Falling in love at first sight."Â
Your eyes widen slightly. It takes you a moment to find your words. "Didn't you say you didn't fall in love with me at first sight?" Sylus chuckles. He may not have fallen in love with you at first sight, but that one glance was enough to seal his fate. But when he speaks, he simply says, "It's about the language of flowers, not about me."
You don't reply, looking up at the huge cypress tree.Â
The breeze continues to pick up, petals fluttering down before your eyes like rain, mirroring the melancholy, pure white snow that falls on your heart. You think that from now on, every time you see a cypress tree, you'd remember this day, and Sylus who brought you here. Your heart clenches, the memory of the night Sylus admitted his situation to you.Â
"Don't think of me," he had said. But...
Cypress trees were everywhere in Linkon City. There, due to the warmer climate, the flowers bloomed in April. From now on, as long as you stayed in Linkon City, every day in April, you'd think of him. The longing wouldn't be confined to April. The boy, as free as the wind, would forever burn brightly in your memory.
16. Returning from the cypress grove, you feel as if you've been beaten; your whole body aches, from your muscles to your bones. If it were just you and your grandma, you'd stay in bed for a few days, but during dinner, you hear your grandma casually remark, "It's already August." August... You and Sylus don't have much time left.
The next day, you decide to go to Sylus' house instead. The consequences of going to his place is for your body to ache even more.
Between playing games with Mephisto and the twins, as well as Sylus deciding lying on top of you is more comfortable than the couch or bed, you think, perhaps, going out wouldn't be so tiring after all.Â
After a riveting game of dodgeball, you, freshly showered, lay limp in Sylus' embrace. Seeing a white butterfly land outside the French windows in the twilight, you say, "let's go catch butterflies tomorrow."
"I'll make a butterfly net tonight," Sylus leans down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Isn't catching them with a net pointless?" You frown. "Then let me ask you, what do you get out of catching butterflies?"
You think for a minute, unable to come up with an answer. "I've never caught one before... but if I had to say... it's the sense of accomplishment when you get one?" "Catching them doesn't necessarily bring a sense of accomplishment," Sylus replies. You don't understand. "What do you mean?" "Catching them with your hands will get your hands covered in powder, and the butterflies are likely to die or be maimed. Do you want the butterflies to die in your hands?"
Hearing his words, you let out a chuckle. Sylus pinches your chin and lifts it to meet your gaze. "What are you laughing at?" You don't express it out loud, but Sylus already knows what you were about to say.
"I know, from a biological standpoint, butterflies don't possess emotional cognition. Keeping them until they die naturally isn't cruel. Although I feel sorry for depriving them of their freedom, I don't feel too much guilt. I'm not the saint you imagine, someone who sees all beings as equal, nor am I some great philanthropist. Many of the things I've done that you consider benevolent are merely to satisfy my personal desires. I don't have a strong sense of morality." He shakes his head.
Even after his entire spiel, you still think he's a very good person. Whether it's out of selfishness or anything else, only a person with a good heart would be so kind, even in their selfishness. Moreover, a strong sense of morality felt restrictive when it came to Sylus. His way of thinking... it makes you comfortable around him.Â
He's truly an undeniable person. You admit, it's impossible not to fall in love with him.
"No need," you say with a smile. "Didn't you think it was pretty?" "I do, but that doesn't mean I like it. Since I don't like it, I don't have the idea of turning it into a specimen to collect."
You turn to face Sylus, your gaze suddenly deepening. Sensing you're about to say something important, he waits quietly.
After a while, you carefully choose your words. "I don't think I've told you directly, but I don't like anything else besides you." "I know," he replies. You're surprised. "You know? Did my grandma tell you?" "She didn't tell me, but you're the one who said that the world is utterly boring and I'm the only thing you're curious about."
"Then you still don't know." You sigh before continuing. "I suppose you can call me someone with a personality flaw. I said I don't like anything but you, not now, but starting from when I was nine until I met you this summer."Â
Hearing this, Sylus freezes. He thought you were simply indifferent. You continue calmly. "Before meeting you, for 10 years, I never knew what anticipation or happiness felt like."
"Sylus, do you know what I thought you looked like the first day I saw you?" You suddenly counter with a question. He takes a deep breath. "Didn't you say I looked like the wind?"Â "Not that." "Then what else?" You stare at him intently before finally saying, "Like a god."
"So, Sylus-" you raise your hand to cup his cheek, "To me, you're not like a god." "You are my god."
Something falls heavily into Sylus' eyes. In this world, trees are plentiful, but gods are rare. Will his bird meet another god? It will. It most certainly will. He tells himself this, but his heart tightens, his throat bobbing uncontrollably.
You know he wouldn't feel good hearing your confession, but it seems that only by telling him this could you persuade him that even after you leave, you can always return.
Perhaps this is somewhat selfish. Your existence, while a comfort to him, is another constraint you put on him. If you didn't leave in the first place, you feared he wouldn't be able to end his own life, perhaps living a life of hardship for your sake, just like your grandma.Â
You overheard by accident a conversation between your doctor and psychiatrist when you were thirteen that your grandma had tried, and failed to commit suicide three times because of you.
To ensure you felt loved, your grandma lived on, despite her own intense wishes to let go of the world that no longer had anything left for her.Â
You tried to fake being healed, but your grandma saw through your act each time. Finally, you thought of ending your own life to relieve your grandma of her burden, but after learning of your thoughts, she told you:
"Suicide will send you to hell. If you go to hell because of me, I'll hate myself."
You didn't want Sylus to become another grandma. So you had made up your mind. Either you die first, or you die with him. You'll go to hell together.Â
"Sylus, I only feel the meaning of life when I'm with you, so are you still going to push me away?" You look at him. He stares back at you, eyes red and swollen. You speak again. "It took me ten years to meet you. Do you think I can hold on for another ten years?" Hearing your words, Sylus' eyes widen for a moment. "Yes!"
He seems provoked by the meaning behind your words, his expression tensing. "You can definitely hold on for the next ten years! You're only eighteen! You've just started your adult life, so of course..." "Sylus Qin!" You shout, interrupting him.
You don't want to hear him say idealistic things, that your health will be fine, or that you'll meet someone else. You only want him.
"Y/N!" Sylus calls you out too, almost as if scolding you. But just as quickly, his voice softens. "Do you still remember the meaning of the Cypress tree?" You do.Â
Waiting for love in despair.Â
âIâve waited and waited, but you havenât reached that point yet. Just wait a little longer, and youâll find a god who will always protect you... Just a little longerâŠâ Sylus' voice is so hoarse, as if he's reached his limit. His eyes are bloodshot, filled with a desperate plea.
You've never seen him like this before. A man as carefree as the wind shouldn't be like this. Ah. So it still won't work? He still insists on pushing you away.
You can't bear to ask him your last question: what if you couldn't wait any longer? Even more, seeing him like this, you can't tell him the words: I want to die with you.
"Then just pretend I..." your voice trembles as you whisper. "Pretend I said nothing today." Sylus' voice is equally hoarse as he says, "Okay."
No matter if you could hold on for the next ten years or not, as long as you don't decay in this mountain here with him, there was still a glimmer of hope.Â
You take a deep breath, open your eyes, and get up from Sylus' arms. "I'm going to catch butterflies."
Sylus watches you walk to the center of the flowerbed. Butterflies flutter around you, your eyes clear and light, like a pool of spring water. With each one that flies by, a delicate shadow flashes across your eyes. You tilt your head back, unaware that a blue butterfly had landed on your shoulder. It rests there, fluttering its wings slowly. The scene is beautiful. Serene. As if nothing just happened at all, no fervor, no heart-wrenching pain.Â
That afternoon, the two of you catch many butterflies, in all sorts of colors. But you don't intend on depriving them of their freedom. As dusk creeps up the treetops, and the sky is tinged with varying shades of orange and red, you release the butterflies back into the forest together. You watch as the dozens of butterflies fly out of their cage. A spectacular sight.Â
You can't help but think, if only Sylus can also be freed like them.Â
In your life though, this moment was enough. More than enough.Â
17. Your last night in the mountains is another rainy evening.Â
Sylus holds an umbrella and walks you home. The raindrops pound relentlessly above your heads, and you can't help but think that the sound reminds you of fireworks that echo all night long outside your window on new years eve.Â
You stop and look down at the raindrops splashing on the ground. You remember a phrase from a poem: rain is the fireworks of the gods.
People use fireworks to bid farewell to the past year. Is this rain a farewell from the mountains?
"What's wrong?" Sylus asks, stopping with you. You look up. "Sylus, can you walk with me in the rain one more time?" You hold out your hand. "This time, it's my turn to invite you."
Sylus readily agrees, tossing the umbrella aside and grabbing your hand, running into the rain.
There's a feeling of exhilaration, running across the endless grasslands of the mountains through the rain. With the sound of Sylus' laughter, it's almost as if you weren't about to part, but rather, eloping hand in hand.Â
The rain continues to fall, soaking the entire forest.  Sylus doesn't mind the rain getting into his eyes, his gaze remains fixed on your figure. "My girl, please, keep running forward like this" he thinks silently.
The mountain rain shrouds the forest in a verdant haze. It's hard to make out anything distinct in the haze, yet you still manage to find the white house.Â
Your pace slows. "We're almost there," Sylus calls. You don't reply. "I want to ask you for something," Sylus continues. You stop. "What?" "Your camera." A glint flashes in your eyes. "You won't even let me keep a single photo of you?" "Didn't you delete it?" You pause. "I'll get it for you." You release Sylus' hand and take a few steps forward, pushing open the door to go inside.
Sylus doesn't follow you in, instead leaning against the wall, letting the rain soak him. A moment later, you remerge, holding an umbrella.
"Here." You hand him the camera and the umbrella together. Sylus takes them, then takes a step towards you, holding the umbrella over his head.
The two of you stand under the umbrella once again. Very close.Â
You look up. "Do you want to talk for a little longer, or should I go now?" Sylus smiles. "Go home early, don't want you catching a fever again." "That's all?" Your expression is somber. "You have something to tell me, don't you?" "Live well, eat well, go out more, make friends, be careful, don't get sick, don't do anything to hurt yourself., and enjoy your life to its fullest." "And..." He pauses for a moment, "...don't think of me anymore."
Your gaze darkens, as you remain silent.
Sylus doesn't say anything more. The only sound is of the rain hitting the umbrella. It's pouring, with the visibility close to zero in the distance. "We won't see each other again, hmm?" Sylus asks again.
But it's not a question. He's telling you that even if you come back in the future, you shouldn't meet again.
You feel as if a knife just stabbed you in the heart. The cold, damp air rushes in, making it hard to breathe. "Yes, we won't see each other again." You try to force a smile, struggling to keep your voice even. Sylus laughs. At his laughter, your eyes instantly redden, but you still desperately try to hold back your tears.Â
How can you cry when Sylus laughs?Â
"Sylus, you're such an asshole." Despite knowing he isn't as nonchalant as he appeared, you still complain, resenting his ability to not show even a hint of reluctance, his refusal to say any longing words, or even to just call your name again.
"Then forget about this asshole."
A sudden pang of pain shoots through your heart, and your pulse seems to stop for a few seconds. You feel tears freely run down your cheek.
Sylus, seeing you struggle to hold back, couldn't stop his own eyes from reddening. He doesn't want you to suffer too much, nor does he want you to see the heartache and pain that was about to overflow from his own eyes.Â
While he could still control his voice, he says, "I'm leaving. Since we won't see each other again, this is goodbye."Â Leaving you with this last sentence, he doesn't linger for a second longer.
Without the shelter of an umbrella, the rain drowns him. He couldn't tell if his eyes were filled with rain or tears. In his flooded vision, your figure quickly disappears into the depths of the mist.
You suddenly feel unsteady, your body swaying, forcing you to hold onto the wall to stand as if you're a piece of glass about to topple and shatter. You feel as if you're drowning, unable to breathe, a suffocating pain surging through you like a tidal wave. A pain you couldn't bear, a pain so intense you wanted to die in that moment.Â
If only you knew it would hurt this much... You'd still want to meet him.Â
You crouch down, umbrella long forgotten beside you, crying in the rain, your whole body trembling.Â
On the mountain path, swallowed by the torrential rain, another person, like you, cried until he couldn't move, standing motionless in the rain for a long, long time.Â
There was only a bend in the road between you. If it wasn't for the pounding rain, surely, you would have heard each other's cries. But there are no "if's" in the world.Â
18. The rain stops after nightfall. By morning, only the piles of fallen leaves by the roadside are still damp with rainwater. When you come downstairs with your luggage, the post-rain dampness in the air has evaporated, the sun blazing overhead. Summer isn't over, but from now on, there will be no more Sylus in your summers. But what kind of summer is it without Sylus?
After having your last lunch with your grandma, the driver arranged to pick you up arrives.
"Grandma, I'm leaving." "No rush, dear. Come here, let me see you one last time."
Your grandma takes your hand, stroking the back of it gently again and again, carefully looking into your face as if trying to memorize its lines. You suddenly realize your grandma has truly aged. In the past, she's never shown such reluctance to part.Â
You think perhaps she's worried about you.
"Grandma, I'll be ok." "I know, I just want to see you one more time." You hold her hands in your own. "Linkon City isn't that far. If you miss me, just call, and I'll come back to see you." "Alright." She gives you a smile and pats your hands. "Let me know once you reached school." "Okay."
You get up, pulling your suitcase with you, and head out of the living room. Your grandma, on her wheelchair, follows you to the front door, watching you get into the car.
After you are settled in your seat, you roll down the window and wave goodbye. She lingers at the door for a while, even after the car has disappeared.Â
The scenery outside your window recedes like the tide.Â
You gaze intently at the vast expanse of mountains and forests, your eyes unblinking, as if trying to imprint every tree deeply into your mind. After driving for a while, the vehicle beings a steep descent. The speed isn't fast, but you feel your heart plummet.
Goodbye, Azure mountains. Never again, Sylus Qin.
The sun hangs overhead, but the wind blowing from the depths of the forest are somehow cool, as if soaked with the chill of yesterday's rain.Â
19. The old lady stands alone, gazing far into the distance, her thoughts drifting.Â
"Grandma," a clear voice sounds from in front of her. She turns her head and calls out with a smile. "Sylus." "Are you here to see Y/N off?" she asks.
Sylus neither confirms nor denies the question, simply handing over the umbrella he's carrying to her.
"I'm returning her umbrella." "I see."Â
His goal is achieved, but he shows no sign of leaving.
"Is there anything else?" Your grandma asks. "I'd like to ask you for a favor." Sylus reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, handing it over to her. "This is my phone number. If Y/N comes back to see you in the future, please let me know. I..." He pauses. "It's best if we don't see each other again." Your grandma sighs, "Alright," and takes the paper.Â
Looking down at the string of numbers, she seems lost in thought for a moment.Â
"Sylus?" She looks up. "I also have something I'd like to ask of you." "Please, go ahead." "No rush." She holds up the piece of paper. "I'll call you." "Alright. Please call me anytime if you need anything."Â "Thank you, Sylus."Â
Your grandma's expression isn't a casual thank you, but a heartfelt, genuine gratitude.
A gust of wind blows by. Feeling the coolness, Sylus says, "It's chilly today, grandma. You should go back inside." The old lady nods. "If there's nothing else, I'll get going now."
Waving goodbye to your grandma, Sylus returns home. Having heard his footsteps, Dragon is already waiting for him, perched by the shoe stands.Â
Sylus doesn't stop, only leaning over to pat her head as he passes.Â
Dragon follows him, meowing and weaving through his legs as he moves. Seeing he isn't stopping to pick her up as usual, she runs ahead, lying down to demand petting in a rare display of affection.Â
Seeing his path blocked, Sylus finally stops. For some reason, the pent-up emotions suddenly become unbearable.Â
A headache from staying up all night tears at his nerves, accompanied by a long, sharp ringing in his ears. Hunger unable to be satisfied by food claws at his abdomen, as if he's being stabbed with knives. The pain is so intense he like he might collapse at any moment. He can only lean against the wall, slowly sliding down as he waits for the pangs to subside.Â
The stomach is truly an organ of emotions. He hasn't experienced such cravings in a very long time. But even the intense physical pain doesn't mask the ache in his heart. The two entwine and coexist, making him feel like he's dying.Â
Dragon seems to sense her owner's discomfort, gently nuzzling against his hand, and occasionally letting out a soft meow, as if worried. "Don't worry, Dragon. I won't die." Sylus says, reaching out to run his fingers through her fur. His lips are pale, yet he smiles. "I promised her I'd keep living for a few more years."
Sunlight streams in through the window, casting shadows on the white wall. Sylus sits in the corner, watching the light climb higher and higher until it stops, turning a pale gold, and gently fades.
As the sky begins to dim, he finally struggles to his feet and heads upstairs. On his bedside drawer sits the camera you gave him.Â
After a quick shower, he lies down on the bed and picks up the camera. He hasn't turned it on yet.Â
Clicking into the photo album, he sees the first photo is of himself - the same one you originally said you had deleted. He chuckles.
Scrolling down, there's a few selfies of you. You thought he wanted your camera because he didn't want you to leave with the photo of him. In reality, he wanted it for the photos of you.Â
Staring at the screen, Sylus hesitates for a long time before raising his hand to gingerly touch the face on the screen. "Y/N, I will always remember your face," he says to himself. "They say, that you can pray to cypress trees. Though it never granted my wish to leave this mountain, I'll keep praying for you. My only wish is that you find happiness in your life." Sylus' eyes darken, as if he's thinking of something. "I will love you forever, but don't think of me anymore."Â
As the echoes of his words fade into the room, Sylus doesn't say anything anymore, simply staring into the face in the camera until a low battery warning pops up onto the screen.Â
He turns to the window. The night is already deep. There are no stars in the sky tonight. "Goodnight, Y/N." He puts down the camera.Â
19. From that day on, Sylus goes to the cypress grove every afternoon, returning at dusk, and playing with Dragon. It becomes his routine.Â
In November at Linkon City, the weather turns cool, with hints of winter already visible. The wind blowing through the air instead reminds you of a cold, early spring.Â
You pause, paintbrush in hand, turning to look at the swaying shadows of trees against your window. You walk over, but not to close it. Instead, you lean outside, letting the breeze caress your face. Only after the wind subsides do you return to your easel.Â
Since coming back to Linkon City, you spent most of your time painting in your dorm, depicting the same person in different scenes- the boy on the mountain, as free as the wind.Â
The person who wanted you to forget him, but you couldn't. How could you forget? A mere breeze reminds you of him. The wind is everywhere, ubiquitous.
And not just the wind, but rain showers, a single star in the night sky, a cypress tree, yet to bloom on campus, even any painting in the school corridors - everything reminds you of him, and how he is trapped on that mountain.
You couldn't forget him, and you don't want to.Â
When the feelings are intense enough, they become physiological. When you saw him, you would smile unconsciously, and seeing him walk away made your heart ache. Now, when you can't see him, every sleepless night turns the moon into his image.Â
You start suffering from insomnia the first day back in Linkon City. Whenever you couldn't sleep, you take out the book of poems you took from Sylus' room, and read it over and over again, letting the words take you back to him. After reading all 520 of them, you'd usually fall alseep.
The only thing that kept you sharp was your search for a sorcerer, a fortune-teller, someone who could tell you why Sylus was trapped on the mountain and how to save him.Â
With something to do, you feel that each day isn't as unbearable as before, except... You missed him terribly.Â
Your longing is especially intense the day a typhoon hits.Â
Typhoons are quite common in summer, less so in spring and autumn. The name of this typhoon is "Ourea", god of the mountains. You wonder if there was a deity of Azure mountains, and if it was looking down on you and Sylus too.Â
The typhoon hits at 3pm. Dark clouds cover the afternoon sky, the winds howling like the roar of wild beasts. Trees snap, and windows rattle.Â
You stand by the window, silently gazing outside.Â
Under the ravaging of the rain, the scene before you nearly looks like the end of the world, yet you feel no fear. You almost wish it is actually the end of the world. If that day was today, you only wish for a chance to make a phone call. You want to hear Sylus' voice again and tell him "Sylus, I'm in Linkon City, battered by the wind, and I miss you so much."
20. By the end of November, the temperature on the Azure mountains is already nearing freezing. The days are getting shorter, the forest quieter. Leaving the cypress grove, Sylus rubs his frozen hands, feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket.
It's an unknown number. Sylus knows who it is.
He answers the phone, an elderly woman's voice coming through. "Sylus, it's me, Y/N's grandma." "Hello." "Sylus, can you come over tomorrow? I need your help with something." "Ok, grandma. I'll see you tomorrow."
Sylus heads over to your grandma's house after breakfast. Upon seeing him, she tells him what she needs help with. "It's nothing, really, I just wanted to ask you to take me down the main road to that bridge."
Sylus knows which bridge she's referring to, of course. "I'll take you there."
With the cold, it takes nearly an hour along the dirt path. When the paved sidewalk ends, your grandma turns to Sylus. "Don't take me in, just tell me how to get there." "There's quite a few forks in the road." Sylus kneels down in front of the wheelchair. "I'll carry you over." Your grandma hesitates, then put her arms around Sylus' shoulders. "Thank you, Sylus." "Of course. It's not that far from here."
Upon finally reaching the bridge, Sylus puts your grandma down.Â
After so many years, your grandma's emotions are indescribable. Her eyes fill with tears. She trembles as she touches the railing. Sylus initially thought about retreating, to let her reminisce about the bridge herself, but he fears she might stumble, instead following behind her slowly.
Your grandma walks from one end of the bridge to the other, tears streaming down her face. She doesn't speak, only weeping silently. She stops after reaching the other end.
Gathering her emotions, she turns to Sylus and smiles. "Let's go back now, Sylus." "Won't you like to stay a little longer?" "No need."
On the way back, she mentions how she hears him go deep into the mountains often. "Are you thinking of Y/N?" She asks. "Yes." Sylus replies honestly. She smiles and says, "don't worry, I won't tell." "Thank you." "Don't keep thanking me, I should be the one to thank you. You filled the void in Y/N's heart, making my extra ten years of life worthwhile." "You overestimate me." "Not at all, I'm truly grateful to you. Because of you, I finally..."
She doesn't finish her sentence, pausing abruptly, then laughs and changes the subject. "Accompany me for dinner. You seem to have lost weight lately." "Alright." Sylus agrees.
Seeing your grandma return, the housekeeper starts cooking.
Sylus sits with you grandma in the living room, nursing a cup of tea. "I heard there was a typhoon in Linkon City," Sylus mentions casually. Your grandma smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry, Y/N is fine. She called to let me know she's safe."Â Sylus doesn't speak, watching the leaves float in his cup.Â
Your grandma looks at him, her gentle eyes flickering. After a while, she sighs and says, "Sylus, you're a good child. Truly. Except you're too stubborn. Listen to what you want instead of focusing on an overly idealized future. Since there's hope, shouldn't you try?" "With me, there's no future." Sylus says in a deep voice. "Why? Even a short future is still a future." "Can something so short really be considered a future?" Sylus lowers his gaze, taking a deep breath. "My existence is a curse in itself, and the other creatures will see her as a threat. They'll worry that she'll find a way to get me out of this mountain. I worry they'll create an... accident."
Your grandma is shocked, clearly not having considered this.Â
"I don't know why I was born like this, but I suspect the reason they won't let me leave the mountain is related to their interests. If my own father can break my tendons and chain me here like livestock, there's no end to what they could do." Sylus takes a deep breath. "So, Grandma," he looks at her, gaze deep, "I have no other choice."
Your grandma's eyes turn watery. She clenches her firsts and says bitterly, "They're inhuman." Sylus gives a small laugh. "They're not human to begin with."
Just then, Mrs. Zhou comes out of the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"
"Don't think about it, Grandma. Please eat." Sylus calmly reaches out to help her up. âLet's eat." Sylus never had an appetite for human foods, but to cheer your grandma up, he eats a full bowl, only to vomit terribly afterwards. But that's a separate story.
After dinner, your grandma insists on seeing him off. As they reach the door, she slips an envelope into Sylus' pocket, pressing his hand as he tries to take it out, and gesturing for him to be quiet.
Sylus understands and stops trying to refuse.Â
As Sylus reaches his front door, he takes out the envelope. As he expected it contains around 500 dollars in cash, and a letter. He unfolds the letter, which reads:
"Sylus, there are some things that I feel are better said to you in a letter. The day you left Y/N, she cried for a long time in the rain. I've never seen her cry like that, not even as a baby. After the Chronorift disaster, she was far too quiet, rarely crying or smiling. Over time, to avoid the pain of loss, she locked herself away, no longer having anything she liked, so it wouldn't be taken away from her. Without love, there is no joy. You appearance was one of the few moments of happiness in Y/N's life; it was like a miracle. I don't know if she's told you this, but I'm telling you now. Living is very hard for her. That day, she told me she wanted to die with you, but you valued her life too much. However, I want to say that there are things more important than life. When Y/N was younger, I attempted suicide three times because the love of my life had passed away. But when I woke up in the hospital the last time and saw Y/N standing alone in the corner, I decided to live. I thought this little girl also needed to feel loved and wanted to save her. I can't save her. When she learned that I was living for her sake, she wanted to end her own life. I know she wanted me to be able to see her grandfather, but also to free herself. Living is painful for her, but I still keep wishing she'd hold on a little longer, until she meets someone worth living for, until she experiences a love that won't betray her previous suffering. I know this is what you want for her too. But you know what? If she hasn't met that person by the time she's 24, I don't plan to let her suffer any longer. Sylus, if one day Y/N comes back and tells you she can't hold on anymore, please, make a promise with her for when she turns 24. Sylus, I've considered many possibilities, both good and bad. If you hear bad news from her, use this $500 to go see her."
Tap-
A tear falls onto the paper.Â
Sylus closes the envelope, tucking it back into his pocket. He closes his eyes in the oncoming wind.Â
21. Night falls, and the mountains are silent. Under the starless night sky, everything is dark, except for a single beam of light shining from a small house.Â
The door hinge creaks, and an elderly woman in a wheelchair emerges from the courtyard, flashlight in hand. She follows the direction she remembers, departing from the paved path. A lone motorcyclist stops the old lady, calling out, "Grandma! Where are you going so late at night?"
She simply smiles, "I'm afraid you'll laugh if I tell you. Today is the anniversary of my husband's death. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come out for some fresh air. Maybe I'll run into my husband's ghost."
Ghosts are terrifying to some, but to others, they're a gift to see.Â
Seeing the old lady's sincerity, the other person doesn't suspect anything, simply sighing. "I admire the deep devotion you have for your late husband, but it's too dangerous for an elderly person like you to be out here at this hour. Let me take you back." Your grandma waves her hand. "No need, no need. My wheelchair is quite sturdy. I'll make my way around."Â The young man can only say, "Please be careful. Head back soon, it's very cold out here, don't get sick."
After saying goodbye, your grandma continues on her path alone. It's already very late. No one is out in this weather.Â
The place she stops is just ahead of the muddy path Sylus had taken her earlier that day. Shining her flashlight around, she shakily stands up, grabbing her walking stick, and pushes her wheelchair into the ditch beside the road.Â
Hanging the flashlight around her neck, she steps onto the muddy path, struggling to keep walking. She stumbles after a few yards, but gets back up again. By the time she sees the bridge, her body is bruised all over, clothes stained with mud and blood. Finally reaching the bridgehead, she uses her last bit of strength to sit up, leaning against the post.Â
A star appears in the sky. She looks up at the single light in the darkness. Perhaps her love was on the star, watching over her. The chilling wind blows across the river, bitterly cold, but the old woman smiles. She's been waiting for this moment for many, many years. "Darling, I'm coming for you," she says, then slowly closes her eyes.Â
The temperature drops to below freezing at night, the river slowly beginning to freeze. No one would be able to survive outside on such a cold winter night, let alone an elderly woman.Â
The next day, when people found her, she had already passed away peacefully, a smile still on her face.Â
Her body was taken back to the village.Â
By the time you return, she's already lying peacefully in a coffin at the funeral home. Looking at your grandma's smiling face, you smile too, but tears stream down your face.Â
Mrs. Zhou, eyes red, comes over to pat your shoulder, trying to comfort you. "Don't be too sad. Your grandma left on her own, on the same bridge your grandpa built for her." "Then she must have seen him," you say.
You genuinely felt happy for her.Â
From the moment you saw her lying there, you knew that she didn't die of an accident or any sudden health condition. She had missed your grandfather and gone to find him. Finally. She didn't have to suffer anymore.
You place your hand in the coffin, cradling your grandma's hand, saying in a hoarse voice, "Grandma, you've suffered a lot all these years."
22. Screams ring out, as a boy nicknamed "His Highness," finds himself utterly powerless under Sylus' relentless blows.
He knows, of course, why he's being beaten. As Sylus pauses for a moment to ask, he takes the chance to speak first, shouting, "Stop! Stop! I was wrong, I was wrong!" Sylus simply holds him by the collar of his shirt. "What did you do wrong?" "I shouldn't have cornered Mephisto, I shouldn't have burned his college application. I was wrong! I know I was wrong!"Â
Sylus looks down at him, eyes devoid of any warmth. "Then I'm not doing anything wrong, am I?" With those words, he gives the spirit one more hard kick before turning away.Â
As he walks away, a larger group of creatures surround him. Recognizing them as part of Onychinus, he lets them take him. They don't fight him, instead, they push him deep into the woods, until they reach a cave.Â
In the den, sitting on a plush throne, is the figure of a man. Sylus' father, whom he hasn't seen in nearly half a century.Â
Hearing the commotion, his sharp, reptilian eyes sweep over the group before him. Sylus meets his gaze, his own even colder, chillingly so. "I've disturbed you, haven't I?" Sylus chuckles, tone dripping with undisguised sarcasm. Â
The figure doesn't speak, simply standing up and walking slowly towards Sylus, stopping in front of him.Â
Slapâ!
A loud crack echoes against the walls.Â
Sylus staggers back two steps from the blow, a metallic taste filling his mouth. He licks it with the tip of his tongue, giving the man an cold look. His father seems enraged by his indifference, grabbing Sylus' chin with a grip so tight, it feels as if he wants to crush his bones.Â
"Try glaring at your father again." Sylus smiles as if he just hard a joke. "My father?" The smile vanishes as he sneers, "You think you're worthy of that title?"
The man's anger flares instantly, and the figures morphs into a huge, draconian form. A single swipe of his tails knocks Sylus to the ground.
"We treat you like a emperor here, and here you are, always trying to run away or cause more trouble!" Sylus spits back, "Otherwise what? Should I be grateful to you?" Another blow lands on him. "You should be grateful I even allowed you to live! You curse! You killed your mother!" Sylus doesn't have more words to argue with this kind of person. "I didn't ask to be born."
Seething, the dragon crouches down, his claws tight around Sylus' neck. "I told you you'd die if you leave this mountain. You want to try?"
Hearing no response, he chuckles. "If you want to die that badly... Then go die."
While his face is still expressionless, Sylus' pupils visibly dilate at the last three words. His father, seeing this, sneers, then turns around to leave.Â
Sylus is shoved back into the car.Â
A while later, all is silent back at Sylus' house. Dragon, afraid of strangers, finally emerges from her corner. She goes to Sylus' feet, rubbing against his leg, emitting a low purr. Sylus picks up the cat and buries his face in its soft fur.Â
Dragon rests quietly on Sylus' shoulder, head nestled in the crook of his neck, as if embracing him in her own way.Â
After a long silence, a hoarse voice echoes hollowly in the room. "Dragon, you're all I have left."
It's new years eve, the liveliest night of the year. Sylus once again spends it without his family. The only difference was that before, he had Mephisto, and sometimes the twins with him. This year, its just himself and Dragon.Â
There's no ban on fireworks in the Azure mountains. Every new year's eve, before dusk, the sound of fireworks and firecrackers fill the air, growing louder as the night deepens. On this night, even the brightest stars pale in comparison to the fireworks that blanket the night sky.
Every year, at that time, Sylus would climb onto his roof and look at the sky ablaze with colors and flames. Not a single firework blooms for him. None of this earthly warmth belongs to him.Â
He doesn't need to get close to see the lights from homes far away to know what goes on inside: families gathering together, some watching the countdown, some playing cards and drinking by the fireplace.Â
In previous years, he doesn't feel his heart moved all that much, but this year, it does. Because he's thinking of someone. He wonders. Now that your grandma had passed away, were you alone, just like him?
Sylus knows its futile for him to long for this kind of human warmth, but he genuinely hopes you could feel it.Â
23. Meanwhile, a hundred miles away in Linkon City.
A large group of college students are gathered in a bar, having dinner and enjoying their New Years Eve celebrations. Everyone is chattering and laughing, except one, who seems to be in her own little world.Â
Since getting here, you haven't uttered a single word, like a silent shadow, completely out of place in this festive scene.Â
Looking at the smiling faces before you, the laughter and joy in your ears are suddenly interrupted by a sharp ringing. You reflexively lower your head, closing your eyes, frowning as you try to endure the tinnitus.Â
After a full minute of ringing, the noise finally subsides, and you open your eyes to see a glass of beer placed in front of you. "Y/N, drink up!" You're startled, because accompanying the voice is the chirping of cicadas hidden deep within the forest. But it's the dead of winter.Â
Your look of surprise vanishes just as fast. This isn't the first time you've heard the sounds of summer in winter. You know it's an auditory hallucination. But since when did you start getting hallucinations after tinnitus?
It wasn't after your grandmother's death. No. It was a month before.Â
You had went to see a fortune-teller that day. Late that night, you opened the poem book on your nightstand and came across a poem titled "Winter". It read something like this: "Is this winter? I'm not sure. But when you're not by my side, I can always hear the cicadas chirping in the height of summer."
From that moment on, the poem became your reality.
Initially, the symptoms weren't severe, but they had worsened after your grandmother's death. You didn't need to go see a doctor to know why this was happening. Your hope was gone, and your support as well.Â
In your hallucinations, every smiling face before you gradually blurs into a phantom, the joyful sounds of your classmates becoming indistinct; only the sound of cicadas remains clear. You feel as if you're standing on the edge of the world, or in a different dimension. The scene of celebration, seemingly within your reach, feels incredibly distant.Â
You finally understand why your grandmother disliked such gatherings - because the one she loved wasn't there. Such lively and warm moments only evoke more painful memories, reminding you of the one person you wanted to see.Â
You miss your grandma. You also miss Sylus. Sylus, is anyone counting down the new year with you right now? I'm surrounded by dozens of people, but without you, I only feel lonely. The more lively the scene, the more I want you by your side.Â
"Y/N?" It sounds like someone's calling you. "Y/N, are you alright?" Someone is shaking you, trying to pull you out of your imaginary world, but it only makes you more dizzy.
Buzz-
A sharp screeching tears across your ears. You cover your face with your hands, shrinking back in pain. People around you panic, crowding around you, calling your name anxiously. The cacophony of shouts and the piercing ringing in your ears makes your head throb. Breathing becomes difficult. Surrounded by the crowd, you feel as if you've been thrown in a kettle and boiled dry. Your eardrums are being torn apart, the air unbearably stuffy.Â
"Move out of the way! Don't surround her!" "Someone get her to the hospital!"
In the chaos, someone knocks over a glass, which shatters on the floor with a loud crash. The sound of shattering is so crisp, it knocks you out of your torture. Time stands still, and all the noise vanishes.Â
You open your eyes to see the broken glass on the floor. A sudden surge of tears well up in your eyes, as if you, too, had shattered along with it.
"Y/N, look at me." Voices reach your ears again. You look at the person in front of you slightly sluggishly, your eyes unfocused. "Y/N, tell me, what's wrong?" You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. "Someone take her to the hospital, she's not right in her mind." Only then does your gaze finally converge. "It's nothing, just tinnitus." You tone is eerily flat. "You should still go get checked..." "No," you interrupt, standing up. "You guys continue, I need to go somewhere." No one chases after you.Â
24. Stepping out into the cool breeze, you call a taxi.
"Hello, I'd like to go to Azure mountain, now," you say to the driver. "Miss, it's New Years Eve today, I..." the driver is clearly reluctant. "Take me there, and I'll give you a thousand dollars."
Only a fool would turn down a thousand dollar single trip. The driver lets you in.
The journey from Linkon City to the foot of the mountains takes around four hours. However, it had snowed, making the ascent difficult. It's nearly midnight when you arrive at Sylus' home.
Getting out of the taxi, you bid the driver farewell as you walk across the bridge and stop at the door. Before you even raise your hand to knock, the door opens automatically, with Sylus stepping out.
"Call the driver back," are his first words to you, tone cold. You stare at him, then take out your phone, and smash it into the ground behind him. "Can't. My phone's broken." Sylus furrows his brows. "What do you want?" "I miss you." His expression darkens as anger flashes in his eyes, his gaze icy. "You promised you wouldn't hang onto me." "Then I apologize, but I can't do that." Sylus' lips tighten as he replies ruthlessly. "If I had known you'd be this shameless, I never would've bothered with you in the first place." You ignore his harsh words, simply stating, "But you did." "I regret it." "Regret is useless," you don't buy his act. "Ask yourself honestly. Do you really regret it?"
Sylus doesn't answer, silently staring at you.
Fireworks burst in the sky, one after another, from the town below. One explodes right above you, ephemeral and beautiful, but neither of you look up. You stare intently at each other, one with icy coldness, the other with unwavering determination. You're locked in a stalemate, neither willing to back down.Â
A breeze blows across the pond. You squint, the hairs on your neck bristling, clearly feeling the cold. Sylus' gaze falters.Â
Linkon City isn't as cold as the mountains. You're only wearing a thin coat, no match for the freezing temperatures at higher altitude.Â
Sensing a softening in his gaze, you take the opportunity to step towards him. Sylus takes a step back. You pause, forcing a bitter smile. "You want me to freeze to death?"
Sylus remains silent.
You keep walking towards him. He doesn't back down, only stepping back when you lift your arms to give him a hug. "We'll talk inside," he says, turning and going into the house. Passing your broken phone, he bends over to pick it up. You pause for a moment before lowering your arms and follow him inside.Â
You sit down facing each other.
"What brings you here?" Sylus asks. He doesn't look at you, instead working on retrieving the SIM card from your phone. "Sylus, look at me." You say. Sylus hesitates, then lifts his gaze. "What?" "Sylus, what would you do if I told you I can't hold on for much longer?"
He freezes. When he speaks again, his words are curt, as if his brain was short-circuiting, unable to process the information at hand. "You... you can't..." You know what he's going to say. "I'm not lying to you." You smile, voice strained. "I really don't want to hold on for much longer." "Why?! You said... you still have..." Sylus pauses, realizing something. "Is it.. is it because your grandmother passed away?" You reply calmly, "If she didn't pass away, I could have held on for much longer. But she's gone now. I can't do it anymore."
The house is warm, but Sylus feels a chill run down his spine.Â
He remembers the letter your grandma gave him. "Sylus, if one day, Y/N comes back and tells you she can't hold on any longer, please, make a promise with her... I've thought of many possibilities, good and bad. If news comes from afar, use this money to go see her one last time."
Good news:Â you'd survive, fall in love, and get married. He'll go to your wedding to see you one last time before ending his own cursed life.
Bad news:Â you've passed away, then he'll go die with you.Â
Sylus takes a deep breath, suppressing the suffocating feeling in his chest. He looks at you intently. After a long time, he finally opens his mouth.Â
"Let's make a promise." "What promise?" You're intrigued. "If you haven't met a person that makes you want to continue on by the time you're... 24."
His adams apple bobs, the veins on his neck bulging as if he's desperately holding back some emotion.Â
"Come back here, and I'll die with you."
25. Fireworks continue to bloom outside the window, firecrackers crackling incessantly, yet you feel a sudden, eerie silence around you, save for Sylus' words echoing repeatedly in your ears: "Come back, and I'll die with you."
Suddenly, you laugh. "Okay." "But under one condition." Sylus hardens his gaze, "Until you turn 24, you can't come back here, no matter what."
He emphasizes the last three words.
You agree easily. "I understand." "If you break your promise again..." Sylus starts, but then hesitates, unsure how to continue. Finally, he could only weakly say, "Don't break your promise, I beg you." "I won't." "And one more thing." He clenches his fists, "You must, you absolutely must do everything you can to hold on until then." You smile, "With this promise, I'll do anything."
Looking at your smile, Sylus suddenly feels as if he's fallen into a trap, yet he also couldn't imagine using you going back on a promise like this.Â
"Sylus," you call out to him, yawning, "I'm sleepy." "It's New Year's Eve today, aren't you staying up all night?" he asks casually, his thoughts still somewhat scattered.
You smile at him, siting down on his sofa, and reach out to hug him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I don't want to stay up, I just want to watch you sleep." You clasp your hands around him tightly.
Sylus turns his face away, but gives up on removing your hands. "Do you think I'd let you sleep with me?"Â "Very likely." "Impossible," he says firmly. "Say that again while looking at me this time."
Sylus turns around, ready to repeat himself, when you lean forward and kiss him.
You want to make sure he doesn't say a single word.Â
Sylus initially manages to control himself, but his restraint could only last so long. When it comes to you, he would always inevitably succumb. His kiss is fierce, almost aggressive, as if trying to brand the kiss deep into your bones. You feel as if he's stealing all the air from your lungs, yet you kiss him back with reckless abandon.Â
He finally breaks it off, watching you gasp. "You know, I don't actually... sleep."
From the moment Sylus saw you, he knew that he'd be powerless against you. Love is something you always want to control, but can't.Â
26. That night the two of you let go of all control, staying up the whole time, only falling asleep in each other's arms at dawn. When you wake up, it's already afternoon. You would've slept for a bit longer, but your stomach growls in protest. Sylus gets up to cook for you instead.Â
By the time you go downstairs, Sylus is nearly done. You wander into the kitchen, drawn in by the smell. Watching him busy in the kitchen, you feel as if you've returned to last summer. Leaning against the door as you observe the light dance across his hair, it's almost like you reached the end of time. You desperately wish that time could stop in this moment, never to move forward again.Â
Your footsteps are light, but Sylus heard the moment you got out of bed. He turns around with the dishes in his hand.
"I was going to bring this up for you." You smile, "My legs are sore, but not bad to the point I can't get out of bed. You haven't been that bad to me." Sylus chuckles, "I see."
His smile holds something deeper.Â
You look over at him with interest. "I thought you were going to pull up your pants and then act all cold and chase me away." Sylus' eyes darken slightly, before he says softly. "I won't chase you away." You raise an eyebrow. "Really? Have you finally realized?"
That it's pointless?
Sylus knows you have no intention of loving anyone else. But he still hoped that you wouldn't come back six years later. "Think what you want," he says, taking the dishes to the table. "I'm not going to kick you out, but don't linger for too long." Putting the dishes on the table, Sylus turns to look at you. "Come and eat.â âComing.â
Just then, as if drawn by the aroma, Dragon jumps onto the table. You reach out to touch her, but your gaze drifts to the window, remembering the butterflies from last summer.
When Sylus returns with a bowl of rice for you, you ask, "Can I go see the  Cypress grove one more time?" "Okay."
It's very windy outside. You head out wrapped in Sylus' wool coat, it's sleeves too long for you, and the hem nearly dragging on the ground. Sylus holds your hand the entire time, his hand buried in the sleeve.Â
Once you veer off the mountain path, the route becomes less familiar.Â
In the summer, the sky was blue, the grass green, the atmosphere exceptionally beautiful. Now, only a serene, undisturbed layer of snow. You can't help but feel sad. So much time had passed, along with your grandmother.
Your eyes are downcast when suddenly, a snowflake lands on your nose. "It's snowing," Sylus says from beside you.Â
You look up.Â
From your memory, the last time you saw snow was when you were a child. You don't remember your age, but only that your family was still alive then. Back then, you loved the snow. You gaze at the falling snowflakes, reaching out to catch one, quietly watching them fall into your palm and melt.Â
"I'll leave after this snowfall," you say. Sylus seems almost taken aback. "I thought you'd stay a little longer." "Do you want me to stay longer?" "No," Sylus shakes his head.
You smile, knowing he'd answer that way.Â
You aren't sad. Still smiling, you turn to him. "I won't stay long this time, it's not like I'm going to die with you the first day I come back after six years." You pause. "We still have time." There's still time to love each other.
Sylus doesn't speak, silently watching the snow fall with you.
You continue. "After I turn 24, let's wait until the winter to die. I heard that when you die, time will forever stop in that moment. I love snow. If we die on a snowy day, the snowfall won't end."Â And you'll never leave again. You'll be together forever in that snowstorm.Â
This time, you leave with a smile, just like the first day you met. You knew you'll meet again, so you smile and look forward to that day.
After you leave, Sylus cries. He stands in front of the cypress tree, praying to whatever is out there for someone, anyone, to save you.
That spring, after the cypress blossoms once again create a thin white mist, Mephisto tells Sylus he was admitted to Linkon University. At the end of August, Sylus sees Mephisto off on his way to school.Â
"Don't worry about things back here, you'll always have myself and the twins." "Boss... thank you, you've helped me so much. I don't know how to repay you for everything." Mephisto sniffles. "If Y/N asks about me, don't say anything. That's all I ask for." Sylus says. Mephisto nods, "Alright. I won't tell." "Also, please try to persuade her." "About what?"Â
Sylus doesn't tell him about his pact with you about turning 24, only saying, "persuade her to live a good life and make more friends."Â "Alright."
Mephisto has never left the mountain since he could remember. Up in the village, there are no buses, no trains, no subways. After arriving in Linkon City, it takes a while for him to adjust. The city is too big for him, and Linkon University was much larger than he imaged.Â
27. In a campus as large Linkon University's, it's hard to see even someone you know if you're not in the same major. Moreover, Mephisto didn't know what you are studying. He didn't think he'd find you again, yet he also felt certain that he would. Wherever he was, Mephisto is always looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere.Â
As summer turned to autumn, then winter, he keeps going.Â
Finally, on a cold, rainy, winter evening, he sees your familiar figure. Even if it's just a fleeting glance around a corner, he immediately runs over to you without hesitation.Â
As he sees you walk towards the dorms, he calls out, "Y/N!" You turn around to see the boy in front of you, soaked but still smiling with bright teeth. "It's really you!"Â You blink, seemingly in a daze, before finally opening your mouth, "Mephisto."
You take him back to your dorm to dry himself off and brew him some ginger tea. "Sit down and drink this." "Thank you, Y/N!" Mephisto sits down across from you. "You got into Linkon University?" you ask. "Yes," he nods. "Why didn't you tell me?" Mephisto subconsciously touches the back of his neck. "I didn't know how to contact you." "Sylus knows."Â "Oh..." Mephisto doesn't know how to reply. "What does he do everyday now?" You ask. Mephisto had promised Sylus he wouldn't mention him, so he simply says, "I don't know either."Â You chuckle, "did Sylus forbid you to mention him to me?"
Mephisto doesn't know whether he should tell you the truth of not, apprehension visibly obvious in the way he shifts his eyes. He wants to insist not, but when he looks up to see your clear eyes that seem to see right through him, he swallows the words he's about to say, finally nodding while avoiding your gaze.
You pick up a cup of hot water, taking a sip, and slowly puts down the cup. You say unhurriedly, "Did Sylus tell you I made a pact with him? If I haven't met anyone else I like by the time I turn 24, I'll go back to the mountains and die with him."Â
Mephisto's eyes widen.Â
You continue calmly, "I've never considered falling in love with anyone else, nor do I think I can. I'm just holding on until I'm 24 to go back to him. So whether you tell me or not, the result will still be the same. But if you can let me know how he's doing, I can at least be a little happier in the meantime."
"Y/N..." Mephisto whispers. "Although I don't know why you have such negative thoughts..." "Mephisto," you interrupt, asking him a question, "what do you think is the difference between humans and other animals?"
Mephisto doesn't know where you're going with this question.
"Humans have a will that will go against their instincts." You have no intention of waiting for an answer, stating your own conclusion first. "Animals can't go against their instinct to survive, but as humans, we can. I will only live to a certain age anyways, but I can choose to go when I want, according to my own will."
Mephisto doesn't know how to refute you, but he still finds it hard to accept.
"Don't look so gloomly," you casually lean against the softa, tilting your head slightly. "You look quite handsome when you smile, so make sure to smile more."
Mephisto knows he can't change your mind overnight, so he might as well... let you be happy.Â
He supresses his emotions and raises the corners of his lips, trying to smile- "Forget it, you look worse than if you cry." You stand up and head to the kitchenette.Â
"You good with some ramen?"
During the meal, Mephisto thinks over what you told him, silently whispering an apology to Sylus in his heart. He then tells you the story of how he met Sylus as an orphan in the mountains when he was young. He tells you about the time Sylus fought three creatures people at once and held his own - he was so impressive! He also told you that Sylus was really good at skipping tones, they were like shooting stars across the pond. He also said that there was a girl from the town at the bottom of the mountain who once chased Sylus up to the village, and Sylus ended up claiming to be gay and using him as shield, hence why the other boys picked on him so much... and so on.
You listen with amusement, a smile finally gracing your face.
28. After that dinner, you add Mephisto to your contacts.Â
He frequently makes plans with you, sometimes to grab something to eat, other times to go for walks, bike rides, or kite-flying. Sometimes, he'd bring along handsome guys from his department, subtly trying to set you up. Like Sylus, he hoped that you'd eventually fall for someone else and not go back to the mountain to find him.Â
Mephisto brought a camera around with him, and would take photos to send to Sylus, reassuring him you were doing well and making friends. To give Sylus some sense of comfort, you'd reluctantly put on a smile, and Mephisto would smile along.Â
But his smile froze in the winter of the following year.
That winter, Sylus continued his daily routine in the mountains: tutoring children at the library on weekends, visiting the retirement home at noon, going to the cypress grove in the afternoon, and spending the evening playing with his cat and looking at the photos Mephisto sent him. He genuinely wished that you'd find someone else, but he couldn't help but feel a sting whenever he saw you in photos with other boys.Â
One day, he returns home from the cypress grove as usual, arriving after dark. Sitting at his empty dinner table alone, he suddenly feels a sharp pain in his gut, an uncontrollable surge of nausea rising up into his throat.
He immediately covers his mouth and rushes to the bathroom, vomiting violently into the toilet. His stomach churns on nothing, but he feels so nauseous he can't open his eyes, and his head spins wildly. After an unknown amount of time, he feels as if he'd blacked out, all other senses were gone. He finally loses consciousness, body convulsing as he collapses to the side.
When he wakes up, the world is still spinning. Feeling dizzy, he struggles to sit up, but the next second, he snaps to attention as he sees a pool of dark red, still-wet blood before him.Â
Stomach still cramping, he leans against the wall as he endures the pain to return to the living room. He tries to pick up his phone to call the twins, but his arms were too weak to support any weight. He collapses onto the couch, and closes his eyes.Â
In the past, he would've gladly died, but now, he's made a promise to you. He has to wait for you.
He knew his spirit would fade at some point, but couldn't think of why his health would take such a sudden spiral. The stomach is an organ of emotions. His condition might not have seemed that serious in the beginning, but since you left, his symptoms had worsened dramatically with his longing for you.Â
After taking a few deep breaths, he picks up the phone and dials a number.Â
After hanging up, he lies back down, feeling utterly weak. He doesn't know how much time has passed when he hears a car outside. It's the twins, bringing a shaman with them.Â
The shaman doesn't carry any diagnostic equipment, merely asking about his symptoms. He then takes out a few scrolls, and instructs him to light them at specific times at night. He then leaves, with only Sylus and the twins remaining.
The wind howls outside, the dim room silent. Sylus feels cold, his eyelids heavy. Luke and Kieran could only stare at him sadly.Â
"Boss... You... you really can't keep going on like this." Luke feels a lump in his throat. "Would you please consider-" "No." Sylus cuts him off deftly. "I will not have anyone else die because of me. My birth was a curse, one which I will end myself."
He looks at the scrolls on the table. He then tilts his head slightly, staring at the vast villa around him, and a cold smile slowly spreads across his lips. Now, he only hopes that the scrolls would really work.Â
Enduring the pain, he takes the scrolls upstairs. For the next two days, he doesn't get out of bed. His symptoms show no significant improvement, still in pain with the slightest movement. On the third day, he vomits blood again, this time, so weak afterwards that he couldn't return to his room. Leaning against the wall, he closes his eyes to catch his breath. He recalls what the creature he should call his father had told him at this time last year: "If you really want to die, then go ahead and do it." They genuinely wanted him dead.Â
Thankfully for them, if he went on like this, it wouldn't be long before he did.
"Y/N." He softly calls out your name to the empty room. He smiles, but a single tear glides down his cheek. "What should I do? I think... I'm going to break my promise."
The room falls silent again.
After a long while, he slowly takes out his phone and sends Mephisto a text message:
[Mephisto, can you come back tomorrow? I'm sick and would have to trouble you to take care of me for a couple days.]
From Linkon City, to take the train, then transfer to a bus to the foot of the mountain, then get a taxi up to the village, it'd take a little over four hours total.
Mephisto arrives shortly after noon.Â
Arriving at Sylus' house, Mephisto gasps seeing Sylus' pale face, nearly devoid of any color. He immediately tries to bring him to the hospital, but Sylus stops him, saying, "they won't be able to do anything. These scrolls should be enough. The shaman wrote them for me."
Mesphisto is very worried, but he knows there's nothing he can do. He offers to stay and watch over him for the night, but Sylus insists that he goes back to town to grab something to eat. As Sylus speaks, he takes something from under the covers and puts it in Mephisto's pocket.Â
Looking into his unfathomable eyes, Mephisto remains silent, his heart pounding. "Then... boss, I'll... I'll be going." His voice trembles slightly. "See you." Sylus' tone is casual as always. "See you tomorrow." Mephisto does his best to control his emotions.
Leaving the villa, Mephisto hurries home. On the path outside his house, he takes out what Sylus had given him earlier, using his phone's flashlight to illuminate it.
In his hand is a wad of cash, a folded piece of paper, and a key. He unfolds the paper, his hand shaking. He has a very bad feeling about this.Â
The paper reads:
[Mephisto, I don't know how much time I have left, so I want to see Y/N. Find a taxi, take this money, and have him pick me up at 3 AM tonight. Tell him I need to go to the cross-river bridge next to Linkon University. Also, could you please arrange for Y/N to meet me? Tell her to go to the dessert shop in the photo you sent me last weekend at 8am tomorrow. But don't tell her I'm going there. Just say you have something important to tell her in person and ask her to wait for you until 10. Ifâand I mean ifâI don't come back tomorrow, could you please take this key and bring Dragon out? Find her a good home. It's so beautiful; plent of people should be willing to adopt it. As for Y/N, you know I made a promise with her for five years from now. No matter what, I hope she'll at least... at the very least, live well until then. I'm so sorry, I probably won't be able to be here for you anymore. The days ahead may be tough, but please hang in there. Your tomorrow will be bright. If you can do what I've said, send me a text message and ask if I'm asleep.]
The winter night is quiet, with only the sound of wind whistling through the bare trees branches.
A text message notification sounds exceptionally clear in the silent room. Sylus' phone lights up with a message:
[Sylus, are you asleep?]
He looks at the notification, a smile appearing on his pale face.
At three in the morning, the sound of a car driving over the road son the deserted mountain path, its headlights illuminating the distant clouds. Clutching his stomach, Sylus slowly makes his way out. As he reaches the road, the car pulls up. Sitting in the backseat, he turns his head, "Driver, let's go." The car starts and begins heading downhill.Â
It's still early before dawn, the sky pitch black. Sylus leans back in his seat, eyes open, quietly gazing at the handful of sparse stars in the night sky.
29. After descending the mountain, bypassing the town, and heading straight for the highway, the sky gradually lightens, the fields and houses on both sides of the road appearing into view. Â
Looking at the unfamiliar scenery, Sylus' eyes seems to brighten with the dawn, despite feeling his body weaken the further he goes from the mountain. It takes nearly five hours to get to Linkon City without traffic. During rush hour, at least seven. Because they left early, the driver brings Sylus directly to the bridge in four and a half. Stopping on the bridge is not allowed, so Sylus gets off at the bridgehead and slowly makes his way to the middle.Â
Winter in Linkon city isn't that cold, but Sylus wraps himself securely in a scarf, leaving only his eyes exposed.
It's about quarter to eight o'clock; there's still no one outside the dessert shop along the riverbank near the bridge. Sylus looks into the distance, where the river flowing beneath the bridge merges into the sea.
The wind blows from the sea, following the river's surface.
Sylus pulls down a bit of his scarf to take a deep breath of the sea air. He longs for the sky and the water. The sky symbolized freedom, while the sea was his dream.
He's caught glimpses of the sea since childhood, yet he's never been there in his centuries of existence.
He gazes at the horizon until a familiar figure appears in his peripheral vision. You arrive at the dessert shop.
The dessert shop isn't open yet, so you can only sit on a bench outside. All the stores nearby are closed, and there's only few people on the street, with the occasional car passing by.
You look around the street, glancing by the river. You naturally notice a figure standing on the bridge, but don't pay it any attention, gaze drifting over before staring blankly into the distance. You don't know that the person is watching you, watching you all along.
Sylus traces your face with his eyes again and again, calling that name in his heart over and over again: "Y/N... Y/N... Y/N.." "Every time I call your name, it's saying, 'I love you.'" He still remembers the way you smile when he says those words.
Unfortunately, he can no longer call your name.
Two hours pass quickly. You receive a phone call and get up to leave.
Sylus' gaze follows your figure until you completely disappear from his sight.
That's enough. He's content to get to see you for so long.
Sylus looks up, removing his hat, then his scarf. Just as he is about to take off his coat, two familiar cars appear at the bridgehead with several people getting out. Watching them walk towards him angrily, Sylus narrows his eyes. They had arrived much faster than he expected, but thankfully, not too fast.
Sylus smiles. He takes off his heavy coat to stand on the railing of the bridge. He opens his arms, and with a smile, falls down, as if embracing freedom.
A huge splash erupts on the lake's surface.
After falling into the water, Sylus doesn't surface. He swims towards the deepest part of the water.
He had lied to Mephisto after all. This time, he has no intention of going back. He doesn't want to die in that mountain.
He swims and swims⊠He wants to go deeper, and deeper still, until no one can find him, and then let the river carry him to the sea... never to return. Finally, all his strength leaves him. He closes his eyes, letting the icy river water rush into his body.
His consciousness begins to blur⊠Sylus can no longer feel the suffocating pain, just his body slowly sinking. Death seems to be just ahead, and then, in a daze, he thinks he hears your voice, calling his name.Â
He doesn't have the strength to open his eyes again, but the face is still in his sight.
It's just a hallucination. He smiles. A hallucination is fine.
âY/N.â He likes to call your name before speaking. "You know, I'm happy to die in the city where you are. You'll never know."
Because I'm about to die.
"Hey, Y/N. Live well. Find someone else to love, and don't come looking for me at the mountain. I'm not there anymore." After saying this, he sees his own reflection before him.
He suddenly understands.
It's not a hallucination, but the legendary replay of memories that occurs right before a person dies. He sees the two of you standing by the cliff. He sees the two of you running through the woods and across the mountains. He sees the two of you standing under a jacaranda tree, petals falling to the ground. He sees the two of you embracing and kissing in the evening breeze, you handing him a bouquet of flowers.
The memory ends with you standing on the hillside, asking him: âWill we meet again?â
Will we meet again?
He thinks for a moment.
Yes.I will become the wind, embracing you every night.
30. Since the time Mephisto stood you up at the dessert shop, you don't see him again until the following spring.Â
That time he invited you out, he kept saying you'd regret it if you didn't go. Otherwise, you never would've gone to the riverbank so early in the morning to stand in the cold wind for such a long time.
As you were leaving, you asked Mephisto why he insisted you to come here. He simply said that he found a guy who looked a lot like Sylus, but he was only free in the mornings, so he set up the date so early. Unfortunately, the guy first said there was traffic, then canceled on him.
Hearing this, you give Mephisto a good scolding, making it clear that you wouldn't tolerate this kind of behavior. Mephisto, being as good natured as he was, apologized and promised to treat you to a meal when he had time. But after that, he doesn't contact you again.
By that time, there was only a few weeks until spring break, so you assume Mephisto was overwhelmed with midterms, not noticing anything amiss.
Coming back to school, Mephisto continues to ask you to come out every week, but often didn't show up himself, leaving you alone with other boys. You assume he found a new tactic to set you up with other people and don't take his unusual behavior seriously.Â
It's not until you finally spend some time with him alone that you belatedly realize something is incredibly wrong with Mephisto. He's not the same as before. He used to be such a cheerful person.
31. Given your personality, you can't help but ask directly after noticing this shift.
"Mephisto, why don't you smile anymore?" Panic flashes across his eyes "Is...is it?" "Yes."
Mephisto lowers his eyes, his dark eyelashes concealing emotions that are hard to hide, but you can easily see that he is deeply troubled.
You don't have a particular penchant for prying into other people's sorrows. Since Mephisto hasn't mentioned anything, you assume he doesn't want to talk about it, so you try to casually change the subject and move on.
However, starting from that spring, through summer, fall, and yet another winter, Mephisto still doesn't smile like he did before. Previously, his eyebrows and eyes sparkle as if bathed in sunlight. Now, even when he does give you the occasional smile, his eyes always seem to be tinged with sadness.
You think maybe it is because he is homesick, missing Sylus and the twins, and because he works many part-time jobs. With this guess in mind, you remind him he can always ask you for any help, and that he can stop trying to keep setting her up with other people.
"Don't feel pressured because of me. When you have time to go home, just tell Sylus that you're busy with work and school. I really don't think he'd be happy to hear that I'm with another guy anyways."
Hearing you suddenly mention Sylus, Mephisto finally breaks down, struggling but failing to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes.
Seeing his bloodshot eyes, you feel a little lost. Does he really miss home that much? Back then, he didn't even show this much grief when you told him you wanted to die with Sylus.Â
After thinking for a moment, you guess that Mephisto must have finally realized the extent of your resolve, explaining his apparent despair.Â
You sigh and place a hand on his back, patting him comfortingly.Â
"I told you a long time ago, I can't love anyone else. I only cooperated with you before so that Sylus would know that even if I tried to go meet other people, I'd still only have eyes for him. That way, he'd feel better so when I turn 24 and go back, he'll be more comforted during our last moments together."
At this point, Mephisto can't stop himself anymore, large tears streaming down his face.Â
Helplessly, you hand him a tissue. "Don't cry, Mephisto. Life isn't about how long you live, it's about the gains and losses. This is the best ending I could think for him, and for myself."
"But..." Mephisto chokes back sobs. But Sylus is already gone... "There are no buts!" you say. He shakes his head, "I can't just watch you die..." His voice is too hoarse to continue. You already know what he's going to say: that he couldn't bear to watch you wait to die. "Can't you try to move on?" Mephisto grabs your arm, his voice breaking as he pleads, "I beg you..." Your expression is calm, unwavering. "I know you want to help me, but please understand, everyone has their own way of living. This is how I choose to spend my time on earth. Not everyone has to face the sun. You have to allow some to walk into the shadows; that's what they yearn for."
Mephisto falls silent, sobbing quietly.
You know that Sylus entrusted you to Mephisto, so you understand his grief. But what you didn't know was that the ending you longed for, earnestly awaited, was already impossible to achieve. You wouldn't be able to die with Sylus Qin.
You knew nothing, nothing at all, believing Sylus was still alive, thinking of you, and waiting for you to return.Â
32. Winter arrives in a flash.
In the classroom, the teacher stands on the podium lecturing; the content is probably something dry, as students below are dozing off.
Suddenly, the tightly closed window humsâthe wind is picking up. You glance out the windows to look at the shadows of the trees swaying in the wind.
Outside this school building is a grove of cypress trees, where cicadas always chirp incessantly in the summer. In this deep winter, you stare at the barren branches, the cry of cicadas still loud in your ears. You no longer get tinnitus, but every winter you still hear those cicada chirps that only exist in your mind.
In the brief moment you drift into thought, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.
There's nothing else on your schedule for the day. When you don't have classes, you usually go back to your apartment to paint. Over the last two years, you made so many paintings that your own place couldn't store it all, so you rented a storage unit specifically for your art. The subjects were usually landscapes, mountains, cliffs, but most often... Sylus. Every day, you'd walk around there. Each time you pass by the paintings, memories would flash before your eyes like a revolving lantern, the face that only exists in your mind would come to life before you. It's the happiest moment of your day.Â
Stepping out of the teaching building, a gust of wind blows against your face. You stop, waiting for the wind to ruffle your hair. The wind doesn't stop, and you don't move.
Two girls stand nearby, sheltered from the wind, seemingly waiting for someone. Standing close, you can overhear their conversation: "MC! You posted pictures of your cat, Dragon, on your Moments again." "I can't help it... Dragon is just too beautiful." "True... her looks are top-tier even amongst Ragdolls!" "That's right." Dragon...? Ragdoll cat...
You're struck by a devastating bought of tinnitus. The ringing so loud your whole body feels numb.
This can't be a coincidence.
You want to immediately snatch the girl's phone to confirm if the "Dragon" the were talking about is actually Sylus' cat, but your legs suddenly feel like lead. Several moments pass before you're able to move a single step, and then, like a robot with rusted parts, you stiffly make your way over.
"Hello, may I see a picture of your cat?" You can barely contain the tremor in your voice. Seeing you look like as if you'd shatter at any second, the girl hurriedly shows you the photo. "Are you Dragon's original owner?" You look at the cat on the screen. It's exactly like the one in your memory. Your eyes instantly blur with tears.
How could Sylus give Dragon away? She's his most loyal companion... unless...
"I adopted her," the girl offers when you don't reply. You look up sharply. "From who?" The girl hesitates for a second, unsure how to answer. "Sylus? Sylus Qin?" You ask directly. The girl shakes her head. "Then..." you frown. "Mephisto...?" The girl nods slowly.
"Thank you." You walk away, posture still somewhat awkward, as if your limbs are refusing to obey your commands. It takes you a while to pluck your phone out from your bag.
You immediately call Mephisto.
He picks up quickly, and you don't even wait for a greeting on the other end, blurting out, "come to my place, now!" You practically shout the last three words, then hang up abruptly as you keep walking. Your entire body is tensed, the piercing ringing in your ears tearing at your nerves.
Not long after you get home, Mephisto arrives as well. Mephisto already knows what happened; the girl that adopted Dragon had called him.
Your door is unlocked, and you sit on the sofa facing the entrance.
Mephisto ran all the way here without stopping, not daring to catch his breath. He doesn't know how to tell you, only weakly managing to say, "Y/N..." You simply stare at him. "Either you tell me what happened or I go back to Azure mountain right now. You choose." "Sister Y/N..." "Don't say my name. I'm giving you one chance to talk." Your voice is terrifyingly calm. "What happened to Sylus? And why was Dragon sent away?" "Boss... he..." Mephisto couldn't speak, his voice trembling violently. "Don't tell me..."
You couldn't utter a complete sentence either, your voice like shattered pieces of glass.
"Don't tell me he's dead." Mephisto doesn't confirm nor deny, but his tear-filled eyes give you the answer. A single tear slides down your cheek.
You grip the sofa tightly, your nails nearly splintering from the force, but you feel no pain. The heartache is a thousand times worse, the pain so intense it makes breathing difficult.Â
"How did he die?" you ask, enduring the agonizing pain in your heart. "He was sick."Â Mephisto doesn't tell you that he had tried to come see you, that he died in the same city where you are.Â
Your face collapses into confusion. You don't understand why fate has to play such a cruel trick on you. Why? Why was it so hard to even die by his side?
"Do you know where his grave is?" you ask. âI know.â You stand up shakily. âTake me there now.â Mephisto runs over and supports you as your legs nearly give out. âIâll take you, Iâll take you.â
âWait.â You suddenly stop before you reach the door. âIs there anything strange about his grave?â
Mesphisto's expression freezes, seemingly puzzled as to why you would ask such a question. Sylus' grave does indeed have something strange about it, but you couldn't have seen it before.
âIt is a little strange,â he answers truthfully. Your hand on his arm tightens as you hear the words. Your voice comes out strained. âHow is it strange?â âHis grave has many rune patterns carved on it, and there are six seals around the grave.â
You close your eyes. Sure enough.
Another piercing ringing courses through your nerves.
Your first bought of tinnitus occurred two years ago, on an autumn evening shortly after you left Azure Mountain.
That day, you visited a very famous fortune-teller. After telling the her about Sylus' situation, the the old lady asks you, "Since you've found me, you must have heard of ancient folklore and the sacrifices of witchcraft common in the mountains?" You nod.
She sighs, fingers sifting through the box of dark sand before she continues, âWhat you're describing is similar. Your friend seems to be... an unfortunate child. Since birth, he belongs between worlds, but unable to survive in either of them... His cursed energy feeds the spirits of everything around him, but he cannot survive on mortal sustenance alone; only the blood of sacrifices can nourish him. As for why he can't leave the mountain... let me give you a simple analogy: your friend is a god of wealth, and the mountain is the his shrine. Of course the inhabitants on the mountain won't let him go." âIs there any way to convince them so that he is able to leave the mountain?â you ask. The old woman shakes her head. âThe environment shapes the people. They've kept him there for far too long, there's no way they'll change their minds now. But in reality, even if he leaves the mountain, they'll still prosper. What truly holds him back isn't his destiny, but his heart.â She sighs, "Your friend might be trapped on that mountain with a soul-locking array. Even in death, he'll be unable to pass on, forever feeding their greed. If that's the case, the only way to release him is to break the array."
So, back then, you had lied to Sylus. You would endure it, even if it meant your own death, fearing it would really be what the fortune-teller had said; that he would be trapped on that mountain until his death and after.
Now that it has been proven true.... You would give him his freedom.
33. It's three in the afternoon when you arrive at Azure Mountain. The climate up here is much colder than Linkon city, but you're oblivious to the change in temperature, your face expressionless.Â
Mephisto leads you to Sylus' grave.
Looking at the runes on the grave and the six eerie seals, you feel a chill. You clench your fists, saying nothing, but snatch the small drill you brought from your house. Holding it steady with both hands, you press the on button without hesitation.
The drill bit roars against the dirt before hitting something hard.
The cement crumbles and peels away, revealing a hollow chamber. Inside, there's no coffin, only a simple iron urn containing ashes. You take out the urn, hugging it to your chest, and quickly walk out of the cemetery.
You refuse to let Sylus stay there for even a second longer.
Following behind you, Mephisto, who has been silent the whole time, calls out to you. "Y/N." You stop. "Where are you going to take Sylus?" You don't answer, only saying, "the driver is still waiting on the road. Go back to Linkon city and pretend you never came here today."
With that, you continue walking.
"Sister Y/N!" Mephisto calls out. This time, you stop abruptly and turn around to stare at him, gaze hollow. "He was very weak then. He didn't know how much longer he had, so..." Mephisto chokes on his words. "So... he came to find you."
Your pupils dilate.
"When... when did he come to find me?" you ask. "Last year. When I called to you meet me at the dessert shop by the river. Sylus was on the bridge."
You've never been a crybaby, and you weren't intending to cry today. But at this moment, tears well up in your eyes uncontrollably.
You don't remember if you saw anyone on the bridge that day, but you do recall hearing someone had jumped into the river from the bridge on the news that night. Later, you heard that the man's father spent an enormous sum of money searching the river for days before finally recovering the body at where the river met the sea. People online discussed that the deceased family must have loved him very much, otherwise who would spend so much money to bring their child home?
Clearly, they didn't love him at all.Â
Because of his birth, which he had no choice in, they deprived him of his freedom, and locked him alone deep in the mountains for centuries. If they had loved him even a little, they wouldn't have refused to let him go even after he died.
Tears stream down your face uncontrollably, but you didn't cry for long.
Taking a few deep breaths, you wipe away your tears and look up at Mephisto, saying, "Mephisto, thank you for telling me everything." Mephisto is crying even harder than you, unable to form a full sentence between his hiccups. You force a wry smile onto your face, "come on, what kind of guy are you, crying like this?" He didn't want to cry either, but he couldn't help himself. "Don't cry, please. You should go back," you say softly. "I have to go as well." "Sister Y/N..." Mephisto's voice is hoarse, almost inaudible. "Go back and study hard, smile more, and spread your wings." Mephisto sobs uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. "Do you hear me?" Mephisto really couldn't talk anymore, he only nods. "I'll be leaving then." You smile at him one last time, then turn around and leave.
Mephisto doesn't follow. He stands there, his body gradually slumping as if all his strength had left him.
He knows what you're going to do.
34. The deep winter sky had always seemed gray, especially in the mountains, shrouded in a misty white fog, like an inescapable dream.
Carrying Sylus'Â ashes, you arrive at the place where you first met him.
Reaching the corner, your steps unconsciously slow down. Looking at the cliff, in a daze, you seem to see Sylus standing there. But the figure vanishes quickly, as if he had turned into the wind, and gone to the distant sea.
You blink once, slowly, then continue walking forward.
Stopping at the edge of the cliff, your gaze falls on the sea, as if recalling some stories about the ocean. After a long pause, you speak. "Sylus, I know you like coming here because of this sea. If you wait for me, I can take you there."
His choice to jump into the river was mostly likely in hopes that the river would carry him away, into the sea.
"I already saved up money for a boat. I'm just waiting for a snowy day to sail to the deepest part of the sea, and we'll jump in together." You smile. "That way, no one can find us, and no one can trap you anymore." "Unfortunately..."
Your voice drops, and your smile fades.
"You didn't wait for me." You lower your eyes, quietly gazing at the urn in your arms. "This time, you broke your promise first."
A gust of wind blows by.
35. The wind on the cliff usually blows head-on, but this gust comes from the mountain path, heading towards the sea.
You pause. Before the wind subsides, you open the urn, scooping up some ashes with one hand, and release it into the wind.Â
Watching them drift into the air, you smile. You can almost see... the wind of freedom piercing through his soul.
As if by some divine intervention, the wind only stops after all of Sylus' ashes have disappeared into the atmosphere. Watching the last of the ashes float away, you smile and whisper: "Sylus Qin, you are free".
He is finally free.
Now it's your turn.
"Sylus, have you ever heard the saying: the highest purpose of life is to die in freedom and love?" You gaze towards the sea, a smile playing on your lips. "You can die in freedom, and I'll die in love."
Grandma said that love can be an event, an object, or even a person. For you, he was love.
Grandma also said that suicide would send her to hell, soâŠ
"Sylus, I'm coming to hell to join you." After saying this, you suddenly feel a chill on your nose. Thinking it's rain, you look up at the sky, and freeze.
Snowflakes fall heavily from the sky. It's snowing.
Everything seems like it was perfectly choreographed for this moment. You had been waiting for a never-ending snowfall.
A bird flies in from the swirling snow and perches on a tree on the cliff edge. You look down, your clear pupils reflecting the bird's image. "Sylus, you said I'm a bird, but did you know? The cliff is a bird's nest." You slowly walk towards the edge of the cliff.
Just then, a long gust of wind rises, like a kiss, gently brushing your face. It's a chilling gust, yet you feel warmth. It makes you think.
Sylus, is it you coming to take me away?
On the first day you met him, from your first sight, you felt that he was like the wind. Now, he truly has become the wind.
You smile, close your eyes, and open your arms to embrace it. Then. You leap.
The snow continues to fall, slowly floating to the bottom of the cliff. The wind finally dies down, but the snowstorm never stops. From then on, the snow falls endlessly.
He rests in the wind. You are buried by snow. Your god is forever free.
IM SCREAMING I CAVED AND PULLED FOR CALEB ANYWAYS AND GOT R0 IN 70 PULLS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I need to stop writing while I'm at school because I've started randomly crying in lab three times.
And when someone asks me what happened I can't really say "sorry i'm hurting my own feelings for fun"
hullo... hello.
do you... by any chance... have an ao3?
<33
Hi Anon! (and others who asked this question)
I do not have an AO3 at the moment, but it is something I am considering in the (near?) future, especially considering tumblr's reblog jump-scare last week. Truth to be told, I started writing on tumblr because it's the main platform I am used to interacting with fandoms for over a dozen years. As a newbie writer AO3 slightly scares me b/c I feel like it's much more "formal" platform!!! Idk, do people also put ideas/drabbles/imagines on there apart from multi-thousand word fics?
If AO3 is now what fandoms are gravitating towards (since tumblr is apparently dead), do let me know what the vibes are in the LADS fandom over there. I'll be doing more research on my own and rest assured, when I do create an AO3 and move (some? of?) my works over, I'll let everyone know, but for now, tumblr will be my main active site!
me writing a 30k word fanfiction in a week:
me working on a 3-page academic paper for an entire semester:
this is why my degree is in danger
Mango... I discovered you from the Mildew and Frost the other day and I have been rereading it multiple times already, my goodness!!! đ©âđłđ€đ€đ€ (I kinda disagree that it is 10% plot. Isn't constipated feelings the plot? XD) Anyways, much love to you~~ đ â€ïž
Thank you anon!!! LOL I always find myself writing the angsty dialogues/thoughts of my works first, then go back in to fill in the plot.
Mildew and Frost
Synopsis: General!Zayne x Wife!Reader What to do when after a triumphant return, your adorable wife starts acting cold and independent?! Zayne is about to tear himself apart. The night he told you he was leaving again, he had clearly sensed something was wrong, so why did he still lead the army north as planned? If he had left a few days later, If he had stayed by your side, If he had taken you with him, Would everything have been different?
Warning(s): Slight graphical descriptions of violence + SA. Hurt/comfort! TBH this all started because I wanted to write Zayne yearning so this fic is literally just 90% constipated feelings and 10% plot. If Zayne and reader spent 1% more time communicating instead of overthinking and overworking themselves this all probably could have been avoided LOL.
22k words
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for this (very belated) fic! I had so many different ideas for how this would go at first, and went a little overboard on the pinning ¯\_(ă)_/ÂŻ. Grab some popcorn for the ride!
1. Fallen leaves swirl furiously in the autumn wind as Zayne tightens his grip on the reigns of his horse.Â
The mid-afternoon sun reflects the general's silhouette, shrouded in a military cloak, as he hugs a sandalwood food box tighter in his arms. Inside are his wife's favorite pastries, the oil-paper wrappings tied with red string, exuding the fragrant scent of jasmine.
"Follow close," his command rings to the rest of the party, its tone as cold as cedar.
"Yes, sir." Greyson calls, urging his horse faster as the battle report from the defense line on the northern border of Anlan rustles in his bag. The general was in a rush to return, riding day and night from the front lines, having successively captured Tong county, just to surprise his wife.
Zayne stops at the street corner opposite the main entrance of the Anlan prefecture court. In the northern continent, women were rarely involved in public affairs, let alone any governing branch. However, the Anlan territory had only been established in the last few years, and most of its power came from the agriculture and trade routes running through the northern borders. You were the eldest daughter of the most prominent merchant family from the capital, whose last name carried influence and protection critical for stability in the area. Hence, when Zayne was asked to choose a wife soon after he was instated the governor of the land, your name was at the top of the pile of offers received, over princesses and other royal family connections.Â
Since you were young, your dream was to follow in your father's footsteps, refusing to be another "sophisticated" young lady, locked away in her chambers until she was wed. Your father, aghast at first, eventually learned to appreciate your sharp eye for business, and it was only under his irrefutable stance against staunch opposition that you were allowed to open your own store fronts and expand the family business.Â
More than three years ago, on the stormy night you left for Anlan with your new husband, your dear father, fearing unrest in the newly established northern province, secretly entrusted the reins of the northern trade routes to you.Â
Zayne specifically instructed that your identity not be revealed within the Chamber of Commerce and on official records. Though your abilities were undeniable, it would not be able to withstand public criticism. He didn't want competing families to accuse your house of using his power to gain prominence, when in reality, it was the other way around.
As the flickering golden lanterns cast shadow across the grand building, your striking figure emerges from behind the large, bronze doors.Â
Greyson calls to Zayne, who is in the middle of reviewing documents. "General, the lady is leaving. Should we call her back?"
Zayne looks up and says coldly, "Wait."
His gaze follows your back. Your apricot robes brush lightly across the snowy floor of the courtyard. As you reach the exit, he sees the young man following behind you offer his arm as leverage as you cross the doorstep.Â
He recognizes the man as Rafayel, the youngest son of the Qi family, an ancient house known for their patronage of the arts. He says something intelligible, and you raise your eyebrows as if replying, "you're so clever".Â
Below the steps, the horseman opens the front drape of the palanquin. Rafayel's right hand, gloved in deerskin, protects the top of your head. You get into the seat first, pearl earrings swaying in the cold breeze.Â
Rafayel takes the reins of his horse from the squire behind, falling into step beside you.Â
Greyson takes a sharp breath, internally screaming at the horseman as he watches you take off, "what kind of staff are you?! Not a semblance of proper judgement for the lady of the house?!"Â
Zayne's knuckles are blue and white from gripping his brush.Â
"General, should I go stop them?"
"No need. Back to the mansion."Â
The sandalwood food box rattles softly on the bumpy return journey. Zayne's head is bowed the whole time, face obscured by shadow, his expression unreadable. Greyson, smelling the sweet aroma of jasmine pastries, dares not to say a word.Â
Twilight climbs over the fence of the Li mansion as the gate opens for the return of the master.Â
"General Li, you're back ahead of time!"Â
Housekeeper Yvonne, dressed in a dark green gown, greets him with a smile, bowing as she takes his military cloak. "The kitchen is preparing dinner. The lady said she would be back for dinner before she left this morning."Â
Zayne nods, "I brought back some swallow nests."Â
"I'll take them to the kitchen right away! They'll be ready for the Lady when she returns."Â
"I'll be in my study".
Upon Greyson hauling the entire bag of military and governing documents onto his study table, Zayne waves his hand, indicating he is to be left alone.
He looks out the window at the magnolia trees in the courtyard.Â
When he last left Anlan, it was early spring. The magnolias were in full bloom, crystal clear and white, like snow and lotus. You were standing with him under the trees, admiring the flowers.
Now, as he returns, it is nearly winter.Â
Before opening the large bag of files, Zayne glances at the painting in frame. The first lunar new year the two of you celebrated together. You wore a red dress, smiling brightly, holding his arm.Â
Yvonne comes in moment later with a tea tray. A celadon teacup sits on the corner of the table, steam rising, the fresh harvest of Tieguanyin leaves floating on top.
At 7:15, Yvonne pours the first cup of tea.
âThe Lady is usually home by now,â she comments. âGeneral Li, should we send someone to the court to check?â
âNo need,â Zayne replies without looking up.
At 8:00, the bells ring, signaling evening. Yvonne adds tea for the second time.
âGeneral, the Lady could be held up by something. Would you like to eat first?"
âNo rush.â Zayne reviews the military supplies list, the tip of his wolfhair brush sweeping across the documents.
At 9:00 sharp, the bells chime for the second time. Another half hour later, Yvonne enters again, slowly this time.Â
âGeneral⊠the Madam is backâŠshe said she has already eaten.â
His brush stills, ink bleeding into the page. Zayne leans back in his chair, the wood creaking softly.
"Where is she?"
Usually at this time, the sound of your boots clicking on the floor would grow louder as they approach.
You normally greet him faster than Yvonne. Before you even appear, your voice precedes your arrival; he can see you excitedly push open the door, hearing you sweetly call "Zayne!" and then let you throw yourself into his arms saying, "I missed you so much."
But you didn't appear.
"Madam went back to her room to rest. She said she spent the whole day at the administrative building checking accounts and is very tired." Yvonne pauses, then asks hesitantly, "The food is still warm. Would you like to go to the dining room?"
The thunk of the brush's handle hitting the table stands out in the heavy silence of Zayne's study. He stands up, "I'll be there shortly".
The sound of his military boots clapping against the bamboo halls is deep and powerful.
The lamps in the corridor hall cast Zayne's long shadow onto the doorway, just enough to cover your handmaid as she hurriedly leaves the room.
She carries the sandalwood food box in her hands, the oil-paper package inside untouched, the red string that tied it together hanging loosely, like a thread of fate that was severed.Â
Noticing his gaze, the maid looks troubled.Â
"G-general Li! The Lady said the pastries were too sweet⊠s-she can't stand the taste anymoreâŠ"
2. Zayne pushes the sliding door open, seeing the person he had been longing for sitting with her back to him, facing the dressing table. Your figure swayed with the candlelight as he looks through the beaded curtain hanging from the doorway. The dressing mirror reflects your movements as you wipe rouge from your lips with a silk handkerchief.
"You're back."
You don't turn around, calm voice revealing little joy at your husband's safe return from the front lines.
"New roads along the northeast trade routes were completed - the journey was greatly shortened." Zayne stops behind you.
You clear the surface of your dresser, putting away a gardenia hairpin into your makeup box. "I saw in the report that you undermined a riot set up by rebels and had a decisive victory."
"Hmm. The news traveled faster than expected." He places his palms on your shoulders, lifting one hand to gently stroke your hair. "I didn't receive any letters from you this time."
"The war is urgent, I was afraid of disturbing you, general," you reply smoothly.
In the past, Zayne would receive letters from you without fail, and he would always dismiss everyone from his tent as he opens the envelope.
The smooth paper would smell of pine and musk. You send them with a sprig of evergreen tucked inside, saying they would refresh him. At the end of each letter would be a drawing of a little figure with a pink flower in their hair and a smiling face. You said this little figure represented you. The letters are short, but the sentiment is deep, mere words insufficient to express the full depth of your longing.Â
At the crack of dawn before the start of a battle, Zayne would take out your letters and read them repeatedly, his finger tracing the ink as if caressing a face hundreds of miles away. He would imagine the expressions and feelings you had when you wrote each word before carefully folding the letter and placing it in the inner pocket of his armor, close to his heart.
"Hmmm," Zayne's fingers curl slightly around a lock of your hair. He has no choice but to accept your words.Â
You change the subject as you close your jewelry case. "Have you eaten yet?"
"No," sensing your lack of interest in conversation, Zayne's voice lowers. "Come with me."
"I thought Yvonne informed you that I already ate."
"There's swallow nest soup for you in the kitchen." His icy fingertips graze the back of your neck.
You shudder, turning your head slightly to avoid his touch. "I'm already full."
"Come keep me company." Zayne leans down, hands bracing against the edge of your dressing table, trapping you between it and his chest. The silver buckle of his belt presses against the small of your back, the coldness of the metal seeping through your robe sends a shiver down your spine.
You try not to look at your overlapping figures reflected in the mirror as you continue to remove your earrings. "I'm tired, Zayne. Hurry and go eat, don't keep Yvonne and the others waiting."Â
Zayne's nose grazes your neck, jaw tightening for a moment as he faintly detects a scent that wasn't yours. He stares at the shadow cast by your eyelashes before brushing his nose against your earlobe, pink from your fiddling with the earrings.
"Zayne, you should go." You struggle slightly to leave his grasp, but he only tightens his arms around you, chin now resting on top of your head. He repeats firmly, "stay with me."Â
3.
Zayne's slender fingers hold a jade spoon, stirring rock sugar into a porcelain bowl filled with swallow's nest soup before pushing it towards you. The steam rising from the bowl creates a hazy filter, blurring the once familiar face sitting across the table.Â
He picks up silver chopsticks and begins to eat.Â
You lower your eyes, staring blankly at the translucent snow swallow. It is thick and syrupy, no doubt of the highest quality. You unconsciously keep stirring the spoon, its soft, tinkling sounds filling the silence between you.
Zayne finally breaks the emptiness.
"How have you been these past few months?"
"Thanks to your hard work, everything is good," you reply.
"What have you been up to these days?"
In the past, you would chatter to him excitedly, telling him all sorts of interesting news; but now, you only give him a perfunctory reply, "you know, the same old. Busy with the Chamber of Commerce matters."Â
The night wind infiltrates through a window slightly ajar. The cold breeze carries the scent of cedar and pine, ruffling the hairs around your ear.Â
Zayne raises his hand, stopping abruptly an inch from your temple. He gently tucks a stray hair behind your ear as you look at him with indifferent eyes.Â
Silence falls at the table once again.
You, having only eaten a few bites of the swallow nest as the soup grows cold, lean back in your chair and close your eyes in fatigue. The warm lanterns cast a trembling shadow across your face. Zayne watches you quietly, the wool fabric of his military coat wrinkling from his tight grip under the table.Â
As midnight approaches, you cough softly as Zayne's cool, cedar scent suddenly envelops you, feeling your back hit the sheets on your bed. "General, you must be exhausted from days of travel. You should rest early."
The arm around your waist pauses, then tightens. Zayne buries his face in your neck, breath carrying the chill of a thousand miles of wind.
"It's alright."
You press your hand tightly against the sash of your nightgown. "Zayne⊠can you spare me tonight?"
"I haven't been home in a long time. You told me it was cold and lonely in the bedchamber without me here, the quilt as cold as ironâŠ" his words burn your earlobe.
"T-that was a long time ago," you tilt your head, trying to curl into a defensive ball, but he draws you closer in his arms. "I was just joking!" your voice turns into a suppressed yelp as he nibbles at your collarbone.
"Zayne! Nngh, I'm tired."
Zayne's palms burn against your waist, softly rubbing the silk before moving down to your lower abdomen.
"I've been⊠cough⊠busy looking through the merchant guild's accounts⊠cough cough" tears well in your eyes as you try to catch your breath.
Zayne stops to help you sit up, pouring you a cup of warm water to bring to your lips.
"A cough?" he frowns, "I'll call the doctor tomorrow." He pulls your gown up, wrapping your figure tightly in the blankets.
"It's fine, I'll be better by tomorrow," you croak.
"Hmm⊠sleep."
The incense clock burns past 2am.
The elaborate brocade quilt builds a whole mountain range between you and Zayne. You're curled up into a ball, fast asleep on the far edge of the large bed.Â
Zayne's posture is perfect, lying straight on his back, hands folded across his abdomen as always. A faint sigh escapes his throat, betraying a trace of his emotions.
4. Morning light streams into the room as you wake up.
Struggling to move, you freeze when you realize you have company. Zayne's arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly in his embrace. His breath, still slightly groggy, brushes against the back of your neck, like the thin mist of early autumn. Despite the limited amount of time you have spent with your husband, you know this is highly unusual.Â
You gently nudge his chest with your elbow, trying to get up, but Zayne's arms tighten abruptly, pulling you back into his warm embrace.
"It's so late, why are you still here Zayne?" Usually, he would be at the military headquarters by now.Â
His chin brushes against the top of your head, his voice hoarse with the sound of early morning, "Just got back, wanted to sleep a little longer with you."
You turn to look into his half-closed eyes in disbelief. The autumn sun had just risen above the horizon, casting a hint of amber light on his dark pupils.
"Feeling better?" He asks.
"Yes. Zayne, I have to get up."
"It's still early, why aren't you sleeping?"
Zayne watches as the collar of your nightgown slips half an inch down, revealing the faint red kiss mark he had left on your collarbone the night before.
You feel your breath catch, "I have an appointment with the Secretary-General of the City Hall for morning tea."
"Let him wait." He suddenly rolls over, casting you into his shadow. "Sleep a little longer. I'm going to the military headquarters."
You silently watch his back as he gets out of bed, the sunlight outlining the smooth lines of his shoulders and back, like a meticulously painted mountain ridge.
You lie in bed for a bit longer, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through your head. Exhausted but unable to sleep, you finish dressing and call for breakfast.
The table is set with your favorite home-cooked dishes, but you have no appetite and only touch your chopsticks a few times.
"Madam, careful, it's still hot." Yvonne brings over a porcelain bowl steaming with hot water, the earthy aroma of snow fungus mingling with the sweetness of loquat and rock sugar. "The General ordered the kitchen to start cooking before dawn, and it's been simmering for two hours."
"âŠ" You sigh softly to yourself.
The porcelain spoon gleams amber in the bowl. You ask someone to fetch news of the latest updates from trade ledger and border situations, glancing at the rows of numbers and inventory as routine. You shuffle the papers to see the newest military report at the bottom of your stack.Â
Sunlight streams over the headline: news of yesterday's victory, that the army led from Anlan captured the last city in the northwest territories without a fight. From hereon out, all the cities through Tong county would be under the jurisdiction of Anlan. Â
Your eyes flicker slightly in confusion. So, even before the war was over, Zayne had already left the front lines to return?
Pushing the seed of discomfort down, you call for your handmaid to get ready. You have quite a few important meetings to go to today.Â
5. Inside the Anlan Chamber of Commerce, delicate oil lamps illuminate the board meeting room, a circular table seating exactly thirteen elders of the most prominent trading groups. A harsh scoff leaves your lips as you flip listlessly through the thick stack of paper transactions in your hands.Â
Li Sheng, nephew of the current governor and owner of "Shengji Trading Company," speaks in a hoarse voice, his greasy face turning a deep purplish-red. "Is the Madam trying to cut off my livelihood?"
You close the ledger, the cover striking the sandalwood table with a dull thud, seemingly bringing this standoff to a close.
"The amount of overstated expenses over the past three years is enormous. Mr. Li should be thankful he's only being expelled."
The hall falls silent. The other eleven elders, seated in their armchairs, either sip tea or fiddle with their thumb rings, their expressions varied.
Li Sheng suddenly slams his fist on the table and stands up. "Over the years, I've served the Chamber of Commerce tirelessly; even if I haven't achieved anything, I've certainly put in the hard work!"
"Mr. Li's hard workâŠ" You open another ledger, your fingertip tracing the dense red circles, voice still calm, "âŠis it embezzling Chamber of Commerce funds to purchase a Western-style house in the west of the city and keeping more than a dozen concubines?"
Li Sheng's face instantly turns deathly pale.
You pick up your blue and white porcelain cup to take a sip of fresh longjing tea and continue, "Also, last month at the docks, you smuggled a batch of goods. That money was enough to buy 30% of the shops on East Street in the south of the city."
Gasps rise and fall in the council chamber. The elders exchange bewildered glances, their eyes filled with shock and complex emotions.
Li Sheng's purple clay teapot shatters on the floor with a crash, tea splashing everywhere. He roars, "Youâyou're slandering me! Without the support of us old businesses, how would a mere girl like you hold onto your position in this room?"
"Mr. Li," you smile lightly. "I am already saving you much face, considering your uncle is the governor of Anlan, by merely stripping your title of elder and not boycotting all your ships and goods altogether. Are you perhaps trying to involve customs and the police?"Â
Cold sweat pours down Li Sheng's neck, his gold teeth grinding together, but he couldn't utter a single word.
You put down your teacup and glance at everyone. "Gentlemen, those who agree to the expulsion, please raise your seals."
The elders exchange glances, none daring to speak out rashly.
"I agree," Rafayel, sitting on the lower left, is the first to raise his family seal.
With a representative from the Qi family, one of the most senior members of the Chamber of Commerce, having expressed his opinion, the others gradually follow suit.
Li Sheng slumps into his seat, his face ashen.
You gesture for the doorman to see the guest out, "Mr. Li, please."
The doorman steps forward, making a respectful but unyielding "please" gesture.
Li Sheng stands slowly, his steps unsteady. He reaches the door, and suddenly turns back, glaring at you with resentment.
His figure disappears outside the door, but the atmosphere inside the hall does not ease. The remaining elders bow their heads in thought, whispering among themselves, as if weighing something.
You reopen the ledger, "I urge everyone to work together and not let a few parasites ruin the foundation of the Northern trade guild."Â
Rafayel smiles lazily. "The Y/N Company is wise, we will certainly give our full support."
The other elders echo his sentiments.
6. Greyson's hand, poised to push open the door to the General's office, freezes in mid-air.
The private room, which usually filled with faint smell of jasmine, is now steeped in an invisible, chilling atmosphere. On a small round table to the side, a porcelain liquor bottle is mostly empty.
The old horseman, whom Greyson had taken upon himself to call over today, feels a chill run down his spine. In his memory, this iron-fisted superior only ever drank tea instead of alcohol, even at military victory celebrations.
What's wrong? Could it be because of his wife? He wonders to himself, unable to think of anyone else besides his wife who could make the General act so strangely.
Greyson nods slightly to him, calling out, "General Li, Old Liu has arrived."
Zayne doesn't utter a single word, simply tilting his head to indicate acknowledgement of new company, his expression unreadable.
Horseman Liu knows the General doesn't have much time for him, so he chooses his words carefully.
"The lady manages the Chamber of Commerce well; her position in the council of elders has been unopposed. The other merchant families take her seriously now⊠they used to meet in the private rooms at the grand brothel in the red light district. The lady laid down conditions before she even entered the private room that next time, she'd like to discuss business in a quieter place. The singing and dancing downstairs give her a headache."
The embers of the lantern on Zayne's desk highlight his bloodshot eyes, making the horseman swallow hard.
"The lady doesn't touch a drop of alcohol, just a cup of jasmine tea. The merchant owners all rely on her family's connections; they wouldn't be stupid enough to urge her to drink." He stares at the pattern on the carpet, his voice tense.
"And all those old smokers are also well-behaved; no one dares to light one in front of the lady. They're all holding back."
Zayne's expression remains unchanged. He leans forward slightly, calloused fingers drumming lightly on the cedar table. The General's reaction is impossible to decipher, and the horseman dares not bring up anything else. He suddenly recalls a scene from half a month agoâ
You stood on the cargo ship's deck, the river wind ruffling your plain gray shawl. The box of pastries that Rafayel had personally delivered was given to the porters' children.
You commented:Â "Let him do what he wants; I'm just happy to have some peace and quiet."
He sighs inwardly. The General's wife always knew how to act with propriety.
"The lady is always busy with the trading company's affairs. Wives of high-ranking officials have sent her countless invitations, but she simply doesn't have time to go." He straightens his back, glancing at his superior's expression, but inwardly he feels a little uneasy.
7. Last night, after escorting Madam back to the mansion, horseman Liu had a brief conversation with Greyson, who was waiting in the stables.
âThe war isnât over yet. I didnât know the General was rushing back to Anlan to see Madam today. She was originally going to return to the mansion at the usual time, but the owner of the largest perfume factory in the empire suddenly said he had time for a face-to-face meeting, so Madam had to change her plans. On the way there, Madam and the Qi family boy were discussing how to secure the cooperation. She left as soon as the deal was closed." Old Liu rambles on before stopping to catch his breath, a hint of annoyance bubbling as he looks up to see Greyson's unimpressed expression.
âWait, Greyson, are you interrogating a prisoner? Asking me so many questions.â
Greyson's gaze sharpened as he continues, âOne last question: Why hasnât Madam asked you to contact me to inquire about General Li's situation lately?â
In the past, whenever Zayne was away on military affairs, you'd worry that contacting him directly would interfere with important matters, so you would ask old Liu to contact Greyson, who travels with him. He would then report to the General and relay the situation from the border as instructed. But this time, old Liu only relayed the message that the Madam was doing well.
Greyson suspects perhaps it was your unusual behavior that prompted Zayne to readjust his battle plan, personally leading a night raid and swiftly capturing Shanwan, the third largest city in Tong county.
The supply route to Shanwan had already been cut off by the Anlan army; it was only a matter of time before they surrendered. Thus, after signing the transfer order and handing over related matters to Commander Jiang, General Li immediately set off for home.Â
"Madam said⊠she was afraid General Li would be distracted."
ââŠâ Greyson stares at him hard. âThen why did it take you so long to come back tonight?â
He couldnât help but recall Zayne's unusually cold and somber expression on the return trip.
Old Liu shrugs, âMadam said she felt dizzy and lightheaded after staying in the private room for so long, so she asked me to drive her to the docks for some fresh air. Then she went to her favorite bakery to buy some sweetsâŠâ
He suddenly stops, a dull thud sounding as he slaps the wooden fence, startling Greyson.
âWhat do you mean, Greyson? Are you doubting the Madam?â His voice, filled with anger, echoes in the empty garage.
âThatâs not what I meant!â Greyson quickly shakes his head, his tone rising in defense. âI just wanted to know if Madam is truly alright after General Li led the troops northâŠâ He pauses, his voice lowering slightly, ââŠis she really well?â
He knows very well that you are the person Zayne cared about most. Last night, when the old Liu told him that you haven't asked about Zayne's well-being because you were afraid of disturbing his work, he was immediately concerned. Was this unusual behavior hiding something?
âDonât mention itâŠyou have no idea how difficult it was for Madam to take over the Chamber of Commerce at the beginning.â Old Liu leans against the car, sighing. He looks up at the dark sky and slowly begins, âThose old bastards took advantage of their seniority, taking turns making things difficult for Madam, leaving her with countless messes. Once, they instigated a strike at the docks, and Madam dealt with it all night while running a high fever.â
As he speaks, he kicks at some gravel, the stones knocking against the iron chains, particularly jarring in the stables.
ââŠThey dared to treat Madam like that? Why havenât you mentioned it?â Greyson's voice rises, filled with anger. Zayne would be heartbroken if he knew.
âGeneral Li is at the front lines. Madam said the war is of utmost importance and she doesnât want him to have more things to worry about. She wonât let me mention anything bad, only reporting good news. Fortunately, everything was resolved later.â The horseman's expression holds helplessness mixed with admiration.
Already knowing what Greyson was going to say, he explains further, âMadam said that some things canât be settled with power and force alone; it requires people to willingly follow.â Greyson's shoes crunch on the weeds sprouting from the cracks in the ground.
âMadamâs efforts to win over the various families in the merchant guild were greatly aided by the Qi family. While its not their focus, the Qi's have been dabbling in trading for generations. The Madam isnât heartless; she canât just ignore them after theyâve supported her. But I can swear on my life, it's only a business transaction, nothing more.â
Greyson stays quiet, head bowed deep in thought.
8.  You return to your quarters after a long day, eating dinner alone as Yvonne mentions the General is still at the military headquarters, not likely returning home tonight.
Only the sound of wind rustling through the leaves could be heard in the distance. Walking through the long corridor back to your chambers, you stop for a moment to look up at the crescent moon: sharp, bright, and clear against the cloudless night sky. You force a smile from between your teeth.
This is how it is supposed to be like, you remind yourself.
Zayne was never the one for superfluous formalities. Even your wedding was not publicly announced anywhere in the capital; just a simple, solemn ceremony in front of both sets of parents, and your name added to the Li family registry.
When you first married him, you were still young, optimistic, and naive, not understanding the severity and responsibility that came with the title "Lady of Anlan".
The night your father sat with you until dawn, breaking down the different accounts, ledgers, business partners, and adversaries your family faced up north, you felt a fog lift from in front of your eyes. You had vastly underestimated the criticality of your union, as well as the danger you were being put into.
On the arduous journey up north, your handmaids complained about the harsh conditions and insufficient rest, often quarreling with Greyson or another one of Zayne's subordinates about the nerve they had to not adjust their travels plans at all for the new lady of the house. You were too sheltered, too coddled, too precious to be treated like any one of his soldiers.Â
Inside your carriage, bamboo seats were cushioned with fur and draped with layers of warm fabrics. You watch as Zayne dismounts his horse to discuss the next leg of the journey with his men. There is no time (nor place) to stop for meals in the middle of the day, with the next town to rest at still many more hours away. You silently pick at the flatbread in front of you, offering a portion of dried fruits and nuts to your handmaids. Their gasps of excitement and "thank you's" barely cross your mind.
Your "husband" has barely talked to you at all since leaving the capital. If you didn't know better, you'd think you were a piece of cargo he was instructed to bring up to Anlan.
As calls rise from outside to pick up the reins again, a harsh knock sounds on the door. Your maid opens it, and to your surprise, Greyson is outside, holding a small box of wax paper. He just about throws the package over, muttering something that sounded like "The General had this prepared for you... forgot about it" before disappearing back into the crowd.Â
Curious, you unwrap the layers of wax... to find a pile of candies. Unable to resist, you carefully try one. The flavor of honey and jasmine floods your mouth, nearly overwhelming your tastebuds with its sweetness after days of bland food. Your eyes widen, wondering where in the world Zayne got his hands on sweets since leaving the capital.
You lean out the small window, feeling the cold air brush your hair and cool your warm face. The shadow of Zayne's figure is tall and straight, marching ever steadily forward towards the north.
Your father's words ring in your ears: "I will be informing the traders guild about my relinquishment of the northern business to you, but not about your position as the General's wife. You will have enough targets on your back once you reach Anlan as a trader. I don't want you to be swept up in political turmoil."Â
After arriving in Anlan, Zayne settles you comfortably into his residence, informing all of his staff and servants of your new status. He doesn't bat an eye when you told him of your wish to join the Chamber of Commerce, even offering to keep your relationship a secret outside of the house. He leaves for the front lines barely a few weeks later.
You remember the nervousness and fear in your body as you help him fasten his armor. His large palm, while not warm, grasps your fingers tightly, almost as if wanting to comfort you.
"If you need anything," his low voice carries a hint of warmth, "don't hesitate to let me know."
The rational part of your brain finds the thought amusing, as if you'd ask anything of him while he's fighting for his life at the whims of the empire.
But the last thing he says before he leaves stuns you: "Don't wait for me. If anything happens, I've made sure that you'll be well taken-care of, whether it is here or back home."Â
You write him many letters.Â
And so, your relationship for the past nearly three years has stayed like this: You finding your footing as the only woman in the Chamber of Commerce while Zayne comes home for a few months at most out of the year. Sometimes, in the midst of your work, you momentarily forget that you're even married, but as you return to the Li residence at the end of the day, waves of longing crash into your chest, suffocating you at night until you hear the thumps of horse hooves and the distinct jingling of bells on Zayne's reins, reassuring you that your husband is safe and has come back to you.
You sigh at yourself, shaking your head as you think of your childish behaviors from before.
Your marriage was built on a strict partnership, a joining of political and economic factors. Years of living in the north showed you the grit and discipline it took to stabilize this area; yet Zayne does it with such practiced ease. If Zayne's character is what lends him the title of "Lord of Anlan," nothing less should be expected from the Lady. There is no place in your marriage for playing house; all you needed was to honor your role in securing business and protecting the trade going through Anlan, while Zayne served as its protector.
Knowing Zayne, you wouldn't have expected anything less from him on keeping his side of the deal. As for your own selfish desires, you shouldn't have dared to yearn for anything more.
While your seat at the table of elders was settled, new problems continue to arise. Li Cui, the current governor, has been imposing heavy taxes on all the civilians while his tyranny and corruption runs rampant. You knew that Li Sheng, having his uncle's support wasn't going to back down without a fight.
You're an experienced negotiator now, your time in the north having sharpened your intellect and methods. You have a nagging feeling that the disruptions at the borders may have something to do with all of this. It's a headache to process. The last thing you wanted was to get Zayne in hot waters because of the trade arguments. This was the battle you signed up to fight yourself, and you realize with a shudder that your father's words were correct: involving yourself in the trade wars with the position as the General's wife would only put yourself into even more danger, whether as a political pawn, or worse, a bargaining chip against Zayne.
Perhaps Zayne already believed that your prolonged solitude and the burden of single-handedly managing the crisis here had sown seeds of resentment, and that you gradually no longer needed him. This misunderstanding was like a fog, shrouded in unspeakable bitterness and a subtle sense of relief, making it impossible for you to discern the boundaries of your emotions. You should be grateful for his interpretation, it's better than the sudden acts of affection he's been showing, out of guilt no doubt for leaving you here. Yet your heart aches with something that feels like remorse.
Zayne's care has always been like this: silent and still like a vast glacier, yet omnipresent like the boundless earth, indulging your willfulness, supporting your ambition, allowing you to grow freely without worry. But now, it seems that this unreserved trust and tolerance has become your most insurmountable obstacle.Â
9. Before your eyes can adjust to the dim lighting of your bedchambers, a tall figure looms behind you, carrying a familiar, slightly cool scent.
Your heart skips a beat, and you softly call out, "Zayne?"
Before you can finish speaking, you spin around and bump into Zayne's arms. Your back hits the cool wall, and he holds you tightly with one arm, the other protecting the back of your head, his movements gentle yet allowing no escape.
Zayne leans down, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his 6' feet frame awkwardly curled up, as if surrendering himself completely to you.
The unfamiliar, bitter smell of alcohol mixes with the crisp scent of cedarwood and assaults your sensesâ Zayne has been drinking?!
His nose buries in the collar of your overcoat, his voice low and husky: "Headache," he mutters as his cool lips brush lightly against your carotid artery, sending a tingling sensation through you.
"Headache?" Your first instinct is to massage his temples as usual to ease his discomfort, but your hand freezes in mid-air.
"Mmm," Zayne responds softly, his disheveled bangs brushing against your neck, causing a ticklish sensation.
You finally curl your fingertips, letting your nails dig into your palms.
He suddenly releases all his pressure, pressing his entire weight onto you.
"...You're too heavy." You bend your elbows against his chest, trying to create some distance between your bodies, but he grabs both your wrists with one hand, easily lifting them above your head.
Zayne's strength isn't oppressive, but it carries an irresistible force, wanting to hold you firmly while being afraid of hurting you.
Only then do you notice he isn't wearing his military uniform, but a silk shirt. The soft, smooth fabric clings to his muscular chest, gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
To where is he expecting to go wearing that� A question arises in your mind, but it is interrupted by his next action.
Zayne's nose brushes against your brow again, his warm breath on your face. You turn your head away, your voice tinged with helplessness, "Zayne, let goâŠ" The next moment, a cool kiss lands on your lips with a nibbling force. His tongue licks away the rouge from your lips, prying open your teeth, and chasing after your tongue.
The lingering aroma of strong liquor mingles with the floral scent of your lipstick, creating an indescribable bitterness and astringency.
How much did he have to drink? You wonder, no wonder he says he has a headache.
Zayne's usual demeanor is overly stable, giving the illusion that he only ever has calm and resolute emotions. But tonight, he seems pushed to the brink of losing control by some unseen force.
You slightly open your eyes, your gaze falling on Zayne's trembling eyelashes, still immersed in the kiss. They cast soft shadows on his eyelids like fine fans.
Zayne is always restrained, rarely drinking, let alone getting drunk.
You feel a mix of emotions: nervousness, confusion, guilt, but also discomfort.
You understand that this unusual behavior stems from your overly obvious change in attitude toward him. While he may not love you, it must be jarring to see such behavior from a spouse. But this is Zayne... He was the one who proposed this arrangement in the first place; what difference would your attitude make?Â
You know Zayne too well; asking him will only result in silence.
He habitually seals all his true emotions beneath the icy depths of his eyes, like a silent iceberg, always revealing only his calmest side. He will never proactively ask why you are being cold to him. Perhaps before returning to Anlan, he can still convince himself, believing that you simply don't want to distract him on the front lines. However, your indifference upon his return makes it impossible for him to deceive himself any longer.
Once upon a time, his deliberately maintained distances, evasive glances, and cold responses were like fine needles, silently piercing your heart.
Do your actions now also cause him such torment and pain?Â
In the past, your heart would already be aching just thinking of this. But now, reason suppresses emotion, and the calm lake of your heart remains undisturbed.
You close your eyes tightly, casting aside those inappropriate thoughts.
10. The other side of your bed is cold and empty when you wake up at dawn. While a little disappointed, you understand. Even you're not quite sure how to face Zayne at the moment. To your surprise, Zayne did not go to the military quarters today. Instead, he took meetings in his study, the hallway busy with the footsteps of various messengers and commanders.Â
You don't see a glimpse of Zayne until he returns (sober this time) close to midnight, the sound of the wooden door creaking immediately waking you from a restless sleep. Figuring you weren't getting any rest anyhow, you light the candles by the bedside and take out some ledgers to read as you wait for him to wash himself.
When Zayne comes back, he sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at you. "Where do you want to go tomorrow? I'll go with you." His cool voice holds a hint of apology for waking you, like a night breeze rippling across a lake.
You look up at him, your fingertips lightly grazing the edge of a page, and reply in a hoarse voice, "I'm very busy. And the General is... someone I can't be seen with in public. What if people find out?"
When he first arrived with you in Anlan, Zayne, fearing for your safety, refused to disclose your relationship. Unexpectedly, this became your excuse, coming back to haunt him.
His cold eyes flicker slightly as he gazes at you, trying to discern from your subtle expression whether your words are a joke or genuine.
A moment later, Zayne says, "You said we'd be fine at long as we're careful."
He clearly remembers how you playfully shook his arm last autumn, trying to persuade him to go to the lantern festival with you. "Zayne, it's alright, we'll wear masks! Worst case scenario is that you're found out to have married a merchant's daughter. I don't care what they think."
But now you chuckle, a hint of wariness in your smile. He still treats you as a child! "Things are different now." You pause, then change the subject. "The military isn't without its problems, is it? I saw in the newspaper that there have been bandits causing trouble around Shanwan."
Zayne's expression hardens. "The banditry is being dealt with; there's no need to worry."
You hum in agreement, "Good. The General should focus on military affairs; don't worry about me."
"What are you looking at?" He suddenly leans in close, his low voice burning against your ear.
A spare drop of water escapes his hair, sliding down your neck and into your collar, sending a slight shiver down your spine.
Your fingertips unconsciously tighten around the edge of the document. "The documents for tomorrow's bidding meeting." You try to keep your voice steady, but a slight tremor escapes it.
"Hmm." Zayne responds briefly, his tone languid after his shower. "Have you seen the new dresses I brought for you? Do you like them?" His voice is flat, but you shudder as his breath grazes your ear.Â
"I saw them, they're very beautiful." You answer softly, your gaze fixed on the paper in front of you, but you can no longer make out the words as the light is suddenly blocked from your line of vision.
Zayne retreats from your personal space and instead moves to face you.
He looks down at you, his voice still cold and deep. "I'll go with you tomorrow." It isn't a suggestion, but a declaration.
A simple white sleeping robe hangs loosely around Zayne's waist, water droplets rolling down his bulging chest muscles, leaving glistening trails between his various cuts and scars.
You know he is referring to the bidding meeting, but at this moment, his presence is too intense, somewhat affecting your normal thinking.
"No need. You didn't go to the military headquarters today, and seeing all those commanders came to the mansion... There must be many important matters that the General needs to handle..." Your voice trails off as you notice his gaze growing colder.
Zayne suddenly leans over, kneeling before you, his long fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze.
"I said, I'll go with you."
His fingertips are cool, yet they make your body burn.
"Zayne, really, there's no need, someone will go with me tomorrow..."
Someone? Who? Rafayel?
Your next words are cut short as Zayne suddenly snatches the documents from your hands, the pages scattering on the floor like feathers. The next second, he grabs you by the nape of your neck and you're being slammed into the mattress, his burning kiss carrying a punitive undertone. Zayne's tongue pries your teeth open, conquering every soft inch, as if to unleash some unspeakable emotion.
11. How can Zayne tell you that he is insanely jealous?
Seeing Rafayel with you outside the Chamber of Commerce building his first night back, he knew deep down that what the two of you had was only professional camaraderie and nothing more. But rationalizing it was one thing, while controlling his surging jealousy was another.
Cumulatively, in the nearly 18 months he has been away from Anlan, Rafayel got to work with you almost daily. He had the luxury of seeing your focused expression as you work at your desk, hearing your soft voice discuss plans⊠It is perfectly normal for him to be attracted to your intelligence and wit. Just imagining that person perhaps tenderly draping a coat over you while you nap, gazing at your sleeping face with adoration, makes Zayne's temples throb; envy burns fiercely.
For you, he can temporarily tolerate that person approaching you under the guise of business, but his patience was already being stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment. If one day a hint of concern beyond that of a colleague flickers in your eyes when you look him, or if he dares to overstep the bounds even slightlyâ
Zayne can't guarantee how long he can maintain this façade of civilized conformity.
Actually, he should blame himself the most.
Why did he leave you alone in Anlan? If he had kept you by his side⊠Zayne can almost picture it: You reading quietly beside him while he reviews documents, precisely taking inventory while he inspects the military camp, offering your soft lips as prize upon his victorious returnâŠ
He should have disregarded everything and kept you by his side, watching over you day and night. Then he wouldn't be tormented by jealousy now, his mind wouldn't be consumed by those dark thoughts.
Today there's Rafayel Qi, but who knows if there are others secretly coveting you, or worse, people not as honorable as the Qi boy? What might happen in the future?
Zayne's eyes darken. His hand gripping the back of your neck tightens unconsciously, his kiss deepening and intensifying, almost brutally seizing your breath, as if trying to meld you into his very bones.
Sometimes, he truly wants to lock you away in the deepest recesses of the Li mansion, never letting anyone see even a glimpse of you.
When does such a crazy thought arise in someone usually so calm and composed?
He never imagined he could love someone so deeply⊠When he sees the infatuated gazes others cast upon you, those dark thoughts gnaw at him like an insidious infection. You are the most precious flower he carefully nurtured and cherished. Why can't you bloom only for him? He knows how absurd and shameful his thoughts were, but when faced with you, reason could never prevail over his emotions. You are the source of all his desires, the object of his heart's longing, and the direction he moves towards.Â
"ZayneâŠ" you gasp for breath between his lips.
Zayne regains his senses slightly and releases his grip. The turmoil within him shows no trace on his face. He simply looks at you calmly, wiping the moisture from your lips with his fingertips, his voice low and husky: "You really want the Chamber of Commerce people to go with you?"
You blink, puzzled. "The textile factory is my own business. I'll go with the old factory director and a few managers."
"..." Zayne pauses for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you. "The military won't stop functioning just because I'm gone."
The implication is clear: he will definitely be with you tomorrow.
Your lips are slightly numb. You purse them and mutter softly, "But Zayne is the backbone of Anlan... some matters can only be handled by you."
Zayne reaches out and ruffles your hair. "Anlan's military system is very sound, with a well-established emergency response mechanism. Even if something were to happen to me one day, everything will be fine." His tone is calm, as if stating a completely ordinary fact.
Your face pales at the words, and you instinctively grab his arm. "Zayne, how could you say that?! Quick, say pei pei pei to take it back!"Â
Zayne's gaze flickers. Seeing you like a frightened fawn, your wet eyes brimming with panic, a faint, wicked sense of pleasure spreads through him uncontrollably.
"Zayne, say it quickly!" Your voice trembles with urgency. "Nothing can happen to you!"
"Hmm. Pei pei pei." Zayne genuinely follows your words, a faint, tender tone at the end. His thumb gently traces your tense jawline, feeling your breathing gradually slow.
You let out a long sigh, your tense body relaxing.
"You're worried about me?" Zayne asks calmly, the glacier in his eyes already melting into spring water.
"The General is too important to Anlan" You reply quickly, your eyes darting around, avoiding his gaze. Your hand is instantly grasped by him, his rough, calloused fingertips rubbing against your delicate digits.
"And what about to you?"
The direct question makes your breath catch in your throat.
The instant you lowered your eyes, Zayne could tell that you were running away again. He knows these little gestures of yours all too well.
Never mind. He sighs softly to himself. He doesn't want to push you too hard. Silly baby. Just asking a hypothetical question, and you're almost in tears.
It's alright. He has plenty of patience to wait for you to open your heart to him again.
12. As promised, Zayne accompanies you on the way to your appointment the next day. It takes a shocking amount of coaxing and a peck on his cheek to get him to stay in the carriage instead of walking you into the hall himself.Â
Dusk approaches outside the window as your negotiations finally come to a close.Â
You answer each of the technical questions with professional and concise descriptions, subtly pursing your lips into a barely suppressed smile as you see the suppliers exchange glances and nod in satisfaction. You know your chances of winning this deal is high.Â
By the time you exit the large gates, only the last vestiges of orange-red remain on the horizon.
Under the sycamore trees, your carriage awaits.
Old Liu quickly steps forward and opens the door for you. You bend down and get in.
âWas the bidding meeting successful?â Zayneâs voice is still cold and deep, but you detect a subtle concern within it.
âIt went quite smoothly.â You lean back, tense nerves finally relaxing. âOur samples and quotes are very competitive, and the review panel seems quite satisfied.â
You glance at him, deliberately emphasizing your words. âZayne, donât interfere. I want to secure this order fair and square.â
Zayneâs expression is calm, but his tone reveals a hint of pride. âOkay. I wonât interfere.â
You gaze at the fluttering sycamore leaves outside the window, mentally calculating several details of the bidding project.
Zayne suddenly takes a document from his sleeve and hands it to you. âTake a look at this.â
You take the document, and as soon as you read the first page, you are immediately drawn to the detailed data: It lists the climate characteristics of the various military units stationed in the Eastern Military Region, the annual temperature logs and humidity variation.
Further on, there is even a comparative analysis of the wear and tear rates of different military branchesâ uniforms. Each set of data is stamped with different colored seals to distinguish key points, the organization astonishingly clear.
âZayne, whatâs thisâŠ?â You look up at him, puzzled.
âThe Eastern Military Region is about to launch a new round of bidding for military supplies and uniforms.â
Your eyes widen slightly. âAs far as I know, their supplier has always been Anlan Textile.â A renowned leading enterprise in the textile industry, backed by the full support of the capital's government.
âThis order is too big; Anlan Textile alone won't be able to handle it,â Zayne explains simply. âThe Eastern army will expand by two divisions this year.â
You hesitate, glancing at the paper in you hands. âZayne, isnât giving me this⊠against regulations?â Although you are thrilled with this opportunity, your professional ethics compel you to ask.
Zayneâs expression remains unchanged. âItâs just to let you understand the clientâs needs in advance.â He pauses, then adds, âBut you have to return it to me after you read it. This does count as confidential military intel.â
Hearing the seriousness in his tone, you canât help but chuckle. He is clearly indulging you, yet pretending to emphasize discipline. Considering your textile factory's current situation, you decide to accept the offer.
âOkay,â you reply, carefully placing the documents into your file. âThank you, Zayne."Â
âNo need to thank me for such a small matter.â Zayne closes his eyes, but you can hear the displeasure in his tone at the formalities.
ââŠIâm thanking you on behalf of the factory workers, Zayne.â
13.
A vermilion screen partitions the inner side of the private room into a secluded space in the restaurant that Zayne brings you to. He sits in the main seat, outer coat removed, revealing crisp black robes that accentuate his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the jade pendant you gifted him for your first anniversary hanging from his belt catching your eye as the only pop of color.Â
âZayne, have you ordered?â You sit down in the chair he pulls out for you.
He doesnât answer. Instead, he pours tea into the cup in front of you. Steam swirls between you, creating a hazy mist.
The freshly served Longjing shrimp are arranged exquisitely on the porcelain plate, the emerald green tea leaves contrasting beautifully with the pinkish-white shrimp, carrying the aroma of a fresh harvest.
âTry it.â Zayne scoops a full spoonful into your bowl.
You pick up a shrimp and put it in your mouth, its sweetness and freshness washing over your taste buds. âThe shrimp is very tender.â
He then places a few more of your favorite dishes on your plate.
As the meal progresses, a sudden crash of shattering porcelain erupts outside the door, followed by drunken shouts.
Your chopsticks hover for a second, your brow furrowing slightly.
Zayne remains composed, carefully placing the tenderest piece of meat from under the gills of a yellow croaker into your bowl. He then calmly says to Greyson behind the screen, âGo and see.â
Greyson responds and goes out, returning a moment later. Remembering what the horseman told him a few days ago, his face darkens considerably at the sight.
âReporting to General Li, itâs Deputy Director Xiong of the Municipal Court, drunk and trying to barge in.â He pauses, his tone hesitant. âHe says he wants the Madam-â
âLady Y/N has quite the airs!â
Greyson's report is abruptly cut off by a roar. Your wrist trembles as you nearly spill the hot tea in your cup.
âFirst you say something comes up and you canât make it, then you say you have a headache and leaveâŠÂ Iâll see what excuse you have left tonight!â
The veins in Zayne's hand slightly bulge as he holds silver chopsticks. He looks up at you, his eyes frosty. âLooks like this isnât the first time you've crossed paths."
ââŠ.â You lower your eyes, silent.
âCome here,â he says in a deep voice.
You hesitate for a moment, then stand up. Just as you reach his side, he pulls you onto his lap.
You can feel the cold from the jade pendant pressing against your lower back through your dress. You tense slightly, letting him hold you.
Footsteps approach from outside, and the crude shouts become clearer.
âLet him in,â Zayneâs voice is like ice cutting through water.
Greyson bows and withdraws.
Without guards outside the entrance, the silhouette of a large, swaying figure is quickly seen through the screen.
âEver since the Lady stepped into this restaurant, she hasnât escaped my watchful eyeâŠâ A rough, raspy voice, reeking of alcohol, echoes through the air. âSo, youâve been hiding here having an affair? Shouldnât you do me the honor of accepting a drink? This shot of baijiu should do it.â
Crashâ
The sandalwood screen is kicked over, and a fat man with a dark-red face staggers in. The belt of his fur coat has loosened, revealing a wrinkled white robe underneath. A short blade hangs askew at his hip, bouncing against his thigh with his swaying belly.
Zayne doesnât even lift his gaze. His slender fingers hold a silver spoon, carefully spreading golden crab roe onto a meatball.
You freeze, feeling the arms around your waist tighten even more, the pendant digging painfully into your sacral spine.
Someone like Deputy Director Xiong doesn't even have the rank to be in the presence of the General. Naturally, he doesn't realize that the man before him is has influence over the military, political, and business circles of the entire Northern Territories.
He stands arrogantly in the center of the private room. âHow high and mighty the newest addition to the circle of elders actsâ He glances at the you, who, after his repeated failed attempts to woo, now obediently nestles on a strangerâs lap, and sneers sarcastically, âSheâs still making money while lying in a manâs arms.â
The silver spoon suddenly strikes the edge of a porcelain plate, producing a clear clink.
Zayne lifts his eyelids, his gaze cold, but his voice as indifferent as if ordering tea.
âTeach him manners.â
Greyson, who has been waiting at the door, can no longer contain himself. He strides forward, his iron first gripping the back of Deputy Director Xiongâs collar and yanking him sharply.
The dull thud of the sheath of his long sword slamming against the back of the disruptor's knee rings out simultaneously with the thunderstorm outside the window.
Deputy Director Xiong screams and falls to the ground, the liquor bottle in his hand clattering to the floor. He trembles as he reaches for his blade, cursing, âDamn it! Do you know who I amââ
Greyson's boot grinds down on his wrist, the cold tip of his blade pressed against his neck, instantly choking the foul words in his throat.
Deputy Director Xiong, his eyes blurry with drunkenness, sizes up Zayneâs handsome face, impeccable attire, and composed demeanor, mistaking him for just a rich and powerful playboy. Contempt flashes in his eyes.
âBrother, Iâm from the Courthouseâ His fleshy face twitches, his cloudy eyes fixed on your cheek pressed against the manâs chest, grinning recklessly. âDonât let a woman ruin your reputation here, Iâll send you a few pretty girls who know how to serve you laterâŠâ
Before he can finish, Zayne slightly tilts his chin at Greyson while simultaneously raising his hand to cover your eyes, his warm palm pressing down through your eyelashes.
Smashâ!
The sound of a bottle shattering echoes through the private room.
âAhh!â Deputy Director Xiong screams, grabbing at his right hand. He collapses onto the ground before falling silent.
The smell of blood mixes with alcohol in the air. Having vaguely guessed what happened, you instinctively snuggle closer to Zayne, hearing a whisper above you.
âItâs alright.â
You blink under his palm. He thinks you are scared, patting your back gently and slowly. He's unaware that you're actually secretly wishing you could go kick the man a couple more times.
Outside, a sudden downpour pounds against the windowpane. Large raindrops pelt the glass. Hurried footsteps echo in the corridor, leather shoes tapping frantically on the marble floor.
Mayor Jiang rushes around the corner, freezing as he sees the scene, his pupils shrinking sharply. Two guards drag the unconscious Deputy Director Xiong, who lies like a tattered sack, out of the private room. His limbs slam against the floor with a dull thud, leaving a trail of blood on the carpet.
Who dares to be so audacious as to injure a municipal official like this in the city?
Seeing another man in military uniform kick the large manâs ribs twice more from the shadows of the corridor, Mayor Jiang instinctively takes a half-step back, his lower back hitting a wooden shelf holding a vase.
The clinking of porcelain startles the tall man guarding the door of the private room. When the manâs sharp gaze sweeps over, the mayor gaspsâ
It is clearly vice-commander Guan, who works alongside General Li.
At last yearâs New Yearâs gathering at the capital, this man stood a few steps behind Zayne, the scabbard on his hip gleaming coldly under the lights.
âGeneral Li, Mayor Jiang requests an audience.â
Mayor Jiang stands stiffly outside the door, watching the guards move with practiced ease. The blood-stained carpet is quickly rolled up and replaced, the screen restored to its original state. A delicate incense diffuses the stench of blood.
The private room is instantly restored to its elegant state, as if nothing has happened. Only then does Zayne release his hand from your eyes, switching to caress the back of your hand.
âEnter.â
The single command sends the mayor's knees trembling. He steps timidly into the room, only daring to confirm, upon seeing Zayne seated in the main seat, that the commander-in-chiefâwho should have been on the front lines at the border has secretly returned to the city.
Rumors have long circulated among the high-ranking officials of Anlan that Zayne had a wife whom he loves dearly. Could this be the woman he is currently protecting in his arms?
âI-I greet General Li⊠and Madam!â Mayor Jiang's forehead beads with sweat, his adamâs apple bobbing between the collar of his crisp shirt, his voice trembling. âDeputy Director Xiong lost his composure after drinking and offended you both. I apologize on his behalfâŠâ
Zayne remains silent, picking up a silk handkerchief and meticulously wiping away nonexistent stains from your fingertips. His slow, deliberate movements cause the atmosphere in the private room to plummet.
Completely ignored, the mayor grows increasingly terrified.
After a long pause, Zayne finally speaks.
âThe municipal government should give him a good sobering-up.â
This casual remark sends a chill down the spine of the mayor, who hastily bows humbly. âYes, yes, General Li!â
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shift slightly in the manâs arms, and the notoriously ruthless Zayne immediately adjusts his posture to make you more comfortable.
He suddenly understands why Deputy Director Xiong is beaten half to death. He must have had the audacity to offend Zayneâs beloved.
Wait⊠Zayneâs wifeâs face⊠seems familiarâŠ
Zayne suddenly lowers his head, his thin lips landing a kiss on your fingertips.
The unexpected intimacy makes your cheeks burn.
He looks up, asking in his usual calm voice, âHow should we handle this? Itâs up to you, Madam.â He deliberately emphasizes the word Madam.
Despite already guessing your identity, hearing Zayne confirm it personally still causes Mayor Jiang to swallow hard, a suppressed urge rising in his throat.
He vaguely remembers you speaking at the city hall as a representative of the trading guilds at the annual meeting. No wonder the Governor noted that Zayne took time out of his busy schedule to attend inconspicuously in the back; he doesnât understand then, but now it all makes sense.
âDeputy Director Xiong has been extorting protection money from vendors for a long time, driving people to their deaths. Why do all the complaint letters sent to Governor Li Cui disappear without a trace?â The helpless eyes of the vendors in the trade market flash through your mind. âPlease, Mayor Jiang, investigate this thoroughly.â
âMadam, please rest assured!â The mayor bows even lower, almost at a right angle. âWe will definitely investigate this issue to the end and give you a satisfactory explanation!â
âNot an explanation for me, but an explanation for the people of Anlan,â you correct solemnly.
âYes, yes, Madam is right!â
Zayne waves his hand casually. Mayor Jiang, as if granted a pardon, scurries several steps back before daring to turn and close the door.
The rain patters outside the window. The private room returns to silence.
You lean against Zayne, unconsciously twisting your fingers. The mayor's shocked expression still lingers in your mindâ
He must have recognized you from the Chamber of Commerce.
You have met him when you go to the city government on business; he even expressed some reservations about you, a young woman working amongst the elders. If the news leaks, the Chamber of Commerce building will likely be swarming tomorrow.
âNo need to worry.â Zayne sees right through you. His fingertips trace your cold palm, gently prying open your curled knuckles one by one, then interlocking your fingers tightly. âIf he doesnât even have this much sense...â The unfinished words stick in his throat, sharp as a blade, just like the hand around your waistâseemingly gentle, yet brooking no escape.
His cool breath suddenly brushes against your earlobe.
âBut youâŠâ Zayneâs grip on the back of your neck tightens, his voice cold and questioning. âWhich matter do you plan to begin your explanation to me?â
You stiffen like a cat being gripped by the scruff of its neck.
After a moment, you whisper, âI had old Liu find some men to beat that guy up a few times. We specifically choose times when he is drunk in dark alleys, so they canât find out⊠We donât go all outâjust to teach him a lesson.â
âDo you want me to praise your thoughtfulness?â His dark eyes hold a chill, making your throat tighten.
âThe General wasn't in Anlan thenâŠâ Your voice is barely audible, then rises again. âIt is my fault for not letting old Liu report it. If you must blame someone, Zayne, please donât punish him.â
Zayne is silent for a moment, his voice dropping even lower. âYou certainly know how to think of others.â
You lower your eyes, staring at the dark pattern on his shirt, saying nothing more. He isnât wrongâand you feel that you didn't do anything wrong either.
Zayneâs gaze is indifferent. Suddenly, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.
âSo youâre feeling wronged?â
His dark eyebrows lower, carrying a sense of impending doom.
âDo you still remember who I am to you?â
ââŠ.â Your nails dig unconsciously into your palms.
âAnswer.â Each word is emphasized heavily, as if he's issuing a command on a battlefield.
âMy⊠husband.â You murmur the two words, your voice so soft it's almost drowned out by the rain.
âSo you still remember.â The chill in Zayneâs voice sends a shiver down your spine. âSince when did you learn to treat your husband like a stranger?â
14.Â
"They're really just trivial matters... I saw no need to bother you." You lower your eyes, concealing the complex feelings behind them. "I can handle it myself."
"Trivial matters? Is a husband wanting to protect his wife considered a trivial matter?" Zayne's fingertip traces your lips, the pressure almost punishing. "What kind of horrible thing needs to happen in order for you to tell me about it?"
Seeing your silence, he presses on coldly. "Just because I'm not in Anlan, does that mean I can't make decisions for you?"
"..." Your hands crumple the fabric of your dress.
Zayne lowers his gaze to your pale lips, his brows knitting tightly, like frost weighing down pine branches.
"Or..." He suddenly releases your hand and leans back in his chair, his voice as cold as winter snow. "Is the lady going to use my words about the clear separation between politics and business to distance herself from me again?"
You clench your teeth, your chest aching with a dull pain. A turbulent undercurrent roars behind his usually indifferent gazeâclearly, Zayne is reaching his breaking point.
"Do you see me as your husband, or a stranger?" The words are uttered wistfully, a sense of helplessness creeping into his voice. "What exactly are youâ"
His voice fades as your lips suddenly cover his.
Zayne's lips are slightly cool, carrying the faint scent of tea. His body tenses faintly. Your fingertips tighten around his shirt, and you hear your own heart pounding like a drum.
You lower your eyelashes, suppressing your trembling, daring only to lightly suck on his lower lip, like holding a melting snowflake in your mouth, trying to seal away all the unresolved questions with that soft touch.
You have always felt that Zayne consistently avoids discussing the reason for your deliberate distance. But you know even more clearly that if he dares to break through that final barrier, you will be the first to crumble.
You always thought you were undeserving of the place of Zayne's wife, knowing the difference in your status. He only married you because of your family's connections, so you worked relentlessly to be useful, refusing to back down even when faced with danger. You know well that he cares deeply for you as a person, yet he was the one who deliberately kept his distance in the beginning. Now that you've finally come to understand why being the Lady of Anlan is such a dangerous position, when you finally steeled your resolve to prioritize self-preservation â for his sake as well â why is he suddenly concerned? Those secrets buried deep in your heart are like a venomous snake coiling around it. Every touch brings excruciating pain.
So Zayne, pleaseâ
You repeat it silently countless times in your heart.
Don't ask.
"Have I..." his voice wavers for a moment, his large form suddenly seeming vulnerable as he lifts his hands to your face, "angered you, my lady?"
His hand goes to wipe the thin sheen of sweat from your brow, but the moment his fingers touch your skin, he sees your eyes suddenly fill with tears.
Glistening drops roll down and land on the back of his hand, catching him off guard with their heat.
"Why are you crying all of a sudden?" His knuckles brush your cheek, touching damp warmth.
You shake your head without answering, but the tears fall even more fiercely. In the moonlight they resemble broken pearls, each one striking his heart.
Zayne steadies your back with one hand and gently strokes the back of your head with the other, drawing you closer to him.
"It's alright. I'm here." He catches a tear at the corner of your eye, the salty taste melting on his lips. His usually cold voice softens slightly. "I promise, I won't let that happen again."
You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your chin heavily on his shoulder, your nails almost digging into his flesh. Long-suppressed grievances surge out with your sobs, like a bursting spring tide soaking through his shirt.
"It's all your fault..." you murmur, voice trembling, tears warm against his shoulder.
"Mm," he responds indulgently, his palm firmly supporting the back of your neck. "It's my fault."
Your broken sobs tighten his heart. He places a hand on your back, slowly stroking your spine in comfort.
"Zayne, why⊠why did you leave?" you cry, your body trembling.
His arms around you tremble faintly as well.
These past few days, you have been so cold toward him. How much grievance has been building inside you since tonight's events that you cannot control your emotions anymore?
A heavy weight lifts from Zayne's heart. He would rather you vent like this than keep it all buried inside and ruin your health.
"Why⊠leave me⊠alone⊠here?"
Your question cuts like a dull blade, pain spreading through his chest.
He understands how many sleepless nights hide behind those tears, how the bitterness of waiting and anxiety twists your heart into piecesâburdens you should never have to bear.
"The front lines are dangerous," Zayne says calmly, his palm stroking your back even more slowly.
He longs to come back to Anlanâhow could he not want to stay with you day and night?
But the war is urgent, and fatalities are indiscriminate. Even with his confidence, he dares not risk your life, so he leaves you in Anlan.
His eyes, usually as calm as the deep sea, now surge with self-reproach, heartache, and an unyielding love.
"Don't cry, my darling."
Still lost in his emotions, Zayne suddenly lifts you gently, his Adam's apple bobbing as he whispers against your lips.
You startle, your sobs stopping abruptly as you look up through tearful eyes.
"How do you want to punish me?" Zayne presses his nose against yours, your breaths mingling. His voice is low and hoarse, almost a sigh. Your tear-streaked face, flushed nose, and lips reddened by bitingâevery detail is deadly to him.
He truly is beyond saving.
This should be the moment to comfort you gently, yet the sight of your tears stirs his heart. Soft kisses land on your trembling eyelashes.
"Whatever you want," Zayne murmurs heavily, his voice like water soaked in snow. "It's yours."
As long as you want it. As long as he has you.
But suddenly you lower your eyes and shake your head violently, resistance filling your voice.
"No⊠I don't want it."
You struggle to escape his arms as Zayne's dark eyes turn cold. His arms tighten like iron clamps, pressing you firmly against his knees. You pound against his chest, sobbing desperately.
"I don't want anything!"
That desperate rejection strikes him like a hammer blow, the veins in his neck throbbing. A thunderous roar erupts inside him. He seizes your wrist and finally forces out the question he has suppressed for so long:
"You don't even want me anymore?"
15. The air seems to freeze.
You instinctively avoid Zayne's gaze. However, just that miniscule movement sends ripples through his heart like like a pebble thrown into still water. His eyes darken instantly. His fingers clamp around your chin, forcing you to look at him. The spacious room suddenly feels suffocatingly cramped, falling into chilling silence as the rain pounding against the roof like thunder.
Zayne's gaze narrows slightly.
A simple yes-or-no answer that used to be so easy for you to say now feels like a jammed bullet lodged in your throat, and stuck in his heart. He desperately needs your answer to fill the hollow void you create inside him.
The contradiction tears at his nerves.
Until he sees your eyelashes trembling violently in the shadows. You're so close, like a butterfly drenched in rain, fragile enough to tear his heart apart.
If he asks one more question, will you shatter completely?
In the end, he gives in to you.
Zayne laughs bitterly at himself. The decisive general admired by the public is nothing more than a coward who can't even face an answer.
So be it.
He closes his eyes with quiet resignation and seals your lips with his before you can speak the words that might destroy everything. The kiss carries a heavy apology and overwhelming love, gentle to the point of reverence. His hand strokes the back of your neck, the warmth both a comfort and a silent plea.
16. Zayne carries your exhausted, sleeping form out of the carriage and back into the house. This is the first time in his life that Zayne hated his inherent taciturnity so deeply.
A sudden, indescribable tightness wells up in his heart, like fine threads binding his soul, making even breathing painful. These past few days, he has done everything in his power to temporarily set aside his demanding military duties, just to spend more time by your side, to make up for the six months he had missed.
He carefully cherished you, paying attention to every subtle change in your expression, awkwardly trying to speak tender words, desperately trying to recapture the intimacy you once shared. Sometimes, just when he feels that the distance between you has narrowed, he would helplessly realize that the invisible barrier was actually deepening, little bit little.
In the dressing mirror, Zayne's taut jawline is clearly reflected.
He knew it was bad, maybe a little twisted, but when presented with the opportunity to ask for something, anything after his years of hard-fought battles and his drive to prove himself, he couldn't stop himself from taking it; taking you, the person he's always wanted. He selfishly took you away from the warm, temperate capital to the snowy Anlan, all to himself. He wanted to keep you far, far, away from the danger at the borders, settled you and let you do your business to your heart's content. Associating too close with him would bring you unnecessary enemies, whether it be rival merchant houses or even worse, political enemies trying to use you as a bargaining chip, he reasoned. You were a strong girl, have always been. You knew how to take care of yourself and your affairs; sometimes it pained him to think it, but he knew you'd be fine, by his side or not.Â
But oh he was wrong.Â
Countless times he's asked himself, where did things go wrong? What did he overlook?Â
But he couldn't find the crux of the matter, no matter how hard he searched his memory, until he saw first-hand today what you had to endure on a regular basis.
At this moment, watching the last leaves fall off the now barren magnolia tree in the courtyard, a thought suddenly pierces his heart with a chilling coldness.
Perhaps, the reason is simple, so simple it's almost cruel.
When you loved him before, he could always see right through you⊠the undisguised expectation in your eyes when you were being affectionate, the pouting lips when you were throwing a tantrum, even your frown hinted at a desire to be coaxed.
But now he can't understand you, can't read your expressions anymore, simply because...
You're tired of the burden that came with being the Lady of Anlan. Tired of this city that traps you. Tired of him. That's all.
17. Old Liu has been waiting quietly outside the study for a long time. Hearing approaching footsteps, he immediately bows.
"General Li."
Zayne strides in calmly, his sharp profile illuminated by lamplight.
He sits behind the desk, long fingers tapping lightly on its surface.
"I want to hear every trouble my wife faced while I was away from Anlan," he says, his voice cold as ice. "Explain them one by one."
18. Old Liu begins recounting the events of the past six months.
The day you assumed full authority in the Chamber of Commerce, someone presented a brocade box containing a bloodstained dead sparrow as a "congratulatory gift."
Before a major shipment, a veteran merchant deliberately delayed the delivery under a rival company's instigation, attempting to embarrass you. On a stormy night, you personally rushed to the remote warehouse and argued fiercely until the merchant finally delivered the goods.
An elder publicly accused your accounts of fraud and tried to force you from office using guild rules. You demanded that an entire chest of account books be brought in, checking them page by page, and refuted him with razor precision until the man is purple in the face and bows in apology.
An ocean cargo ship is seized by the Navy docks for suspected contraband. You inspected every crate on the damp deck late at night. The ship is saved, but you caught a chill from the cold.
Old Liu's voice carries suppressed resentment as he recounts each scene vividly.
Zayne listens without interruption. His expression remains calm as a still lake, but darkness gathers in his eyes.
When the horseman reaches the story of dockworkers being secretly incited to strike, and you, already ill with fever, worked through the night and eventually collapsed from exhaustion, Zayne finally raises his hand.
He cannot listen any further.
"General⊠it is my fault. I did not protect Madam properly." Old Liu lowers his head. "Please punish me."
Silence fills the study.
After a long time, Zayne finally speaks.
"My wife says these matters are hers alone and have nothing to do with you."
Old Liu's throat tightens. "Madam only worries that you are exhausted from the war and does not want trivial matters disturbing your peace of mindâŠ"
The study falls silent again. Moonlight spills through the window.
Zayne slowly strokes the armrest.
"The list," he says quietly.
Old Liu immediately presents the prepared roster.
Zayne flips through it, each name and scheme reflected in his icy gaze.
Suddenly he looks up.
"Has Madam been sending someone to buy pastries from her favorite bakery recently?"
"Yes. Madam likes them very much."
Zayne closes the register calmly.
"From now on, report every single one of her movements to me immediately."
19. Later that night, Zayne opens the bedroom door.
Moonlight falls through gauze curtains, casting a pale glow onto the sleeping figure in the bed.
You lie curled up in the brocade quilt, looking like a small animal.
Zayne kneels beside the bed, silently studying your face.
You sleep uneasily, brows faintly furrowed.
His fingers hover between your brows before slowly withdrawing into a fist.
The horseman's report echoes endlessly in his mind.
For more than two hundred days, you faced the storms of business alone; attacks, doubts, conspiracies, but never retreating. Meanwhile, he commands armies thousands of miles away, yet unable to shield you from even a single falling leaf.
Guilt gnaws at him relentlessly.
He once imagined you as a rose in a greenhouse, forever protected beneath his wings. If he could, he'd even keep the snow of Anlan from ever touching your shoulders.
But he knows better.Â
The more carefully a flower is protected, the less it can endure wind and rain. So he teaches you to shoot, to fish, to survive.
He hoped to watch you grow into a tree strong enough to withstand any storm, even without him.
Yet now that you truly stand strong, you no longer cling to his post.
Back then you'd smile gently and say, "Zayne, don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll wait for you."
He believed you.
Now he realizes the truth: He is the one who forced you to become independent.
And he is also the one who forced you to swallow your pain alone.
A bitter taste rises in his throat. Perhaps⊠he has never been a good husband. You resent him. Your distance is understandable.
The night breeze stirs the curtains.
After a long time, Zayne leans down. His cool breath brushes your lips before settling into a feather-light kiss on your forehead.
Gentle. Careful. As if afraid of waking you from a fragile dream.
You may grow strong enough to soar freely someday, but he will always remain the mountain behind you, the place you can return to when your wings grow tired.
No matter how far you fly, he will wait.
His love will not change.
Not until death.
20. It's before dawn. A bluish-gray morning mist shrouds the entire Li residence in a hazy glow.
You wake up from a hazy dream. Beside you, Zayne's brows are relaxed, his long eyelashes lowered, his thin lips slightly pursed, the sharpness of the day gone, replaced by a gentle tenderness. His even breathing is exceptionally clear in the quiet bedroom, his warm breath brushing against your hair.
You instinctively wanted to curl up in his arms, but freeze the moment the thought crosses your mind. The tears from last night's breakdown still leave a burning mark on your face, a memory that sends a chill of humiliation down your spine.
You force yourself to calm down and carefully lift Zayne's arm from around your waist.
His arms are long and strong, bearing the weight of years of training, holding you close even in your sleep, as if if you were to dissolve into the morning mist the moment you let go.
A soft rustling sound comes from the bedding. You've barely moved an inch before he unconsciously pulls you back into his arms, startling you so much your heart skips a beat. Only after confirming he is still fast asleep do you dare to hold your breath and deftly pull yourself out of bed, tiptoeing out of the room.
You throw on a coat, pushing open the door, and go downstairs to the courtyard. The damp mist, carrying the chill of late autumn, seeps over your ankles. Morning dew condenses into tiny droplets on the stone steps.
You stand underneath the magnolia tree, its branches laden with red leaves. The autumn wind brushes past your ears, scattering and gathering your jumbled thoughts in waves.
In a daze, time seemed to rewind to that dusky evening two hundred and nineteen days ago: on an evening that was supposed to be like any other, you narrowly grazed past death for the first time.
You have experienced your fair share of troubles since coming to Anlan, but the precision of the thin blade that pierced through the paper covering of your office window at the municipal building, so fast and silent that none of your attendants outside the door noticed anything out of the ordinary, left you stunned. Not until it stuck to the wall behind you that your heart started thundering like a drum, your hand rising to touch the single drop of blood drawn from right above your clavicle. A single scrap of paper is attached with two characters scrawled across: 黿·± (Zayne Li). Your heart plummets into ice cold water, but you don't scream, or shout, or even call for help. You've been too careless; someone already caught on to your secret. Â
That night, the magnolias were in full bloom, the bright moonlight cascading down like a silver waterfall, coating the blossoms with a layer of crystalline snow.
Amidst the fragrance of the flowers, Zayne came up from behind, his steady frame silent as he watched the flowers by your side. The perpetual two-feet distance he keeps from you taunted your mind as you mulled over how to address the incident that happened earlier.
To your surprise, he spoke first. âTomorrow I will lead the army north.â His voice was so calm, betraying no emotion whatsoever.
You remember being surprised for a moment, your heart stopping abruptly. Moonlight filtered through the branches, flowing over the gold thread on Zayne's military uniform, casting dappled shadows on his sharply defined face. He gazed silently at you.
You wanted to ask what you should do, when he would return, to beg him to stay. A thousand words swirled between your lips, but in the end, you simply lowered your eyelashes and reached out to smooth the non-existent wrinkle on his uniform collar.
"Please take care."
Your thoughts, hesitant and brewing for so long, originally intended to be admitted all in one go, ultimately dissipated with the night breeze and the fragrance of magnolia blossoms.
On many lonely nights after Zayne left, you loved to stand here, watching the moonlight illuminate the shadows of the flowers, from lush to sparse, until the last petal fell.
Your shadow, stretched and shortened by the moonlight, mirrored the constantly weighing and struggling emotions in your heart. In the end, you made your choice.
You let out a long, pent-up sigh.
Why did you suddenly lose control of your emotions last night?
For the past six months, you were successful in single-handedly managing the Chamber of Commerce, smoothing the elders' overt and covert difficulties, avoiding the malicious probing of competitors, and withstanding even blatant harassment.
But when Zayne witnessed firsthand your embarrassing moment of being humiliated in public, all your carefully constructed walls seemed to crumble instantly.
How could you bear to question his departure? You know better than anyone that he did nothing wrong. Zayne bore the immense responsibility of protecting Anlan; every military order is tied to the safety of countless people, and he cannot allow himself to waver for personal feelings. You couldn't bear to see him torn between responsibility and affection. You thought you were understanding enough, but unexpectedly, a hidden resentment still managed to quietly sprout in your heart.
Resentful that he left you, resentful that he returned too soon, and even more resentful of yourself⊠for not being able to hide even this small grievance.
How could you not know that Zayne left you in Anlan only to protect you?
Besides, even if he wanted to take you with him, you couldn't follow him all the way to the front lines anyways, due to your duty to your family business. If you really have to blame someone, you could only blame fate.
That night, when you heard Yvonne's cheerful announcement that the General had returned early, you practically fled to your dressing room in a panic.
Reflected in the mirror was a bloodless face and slightly trembling lips. You hadn't felt so helpless in a long time. How could you face him?
You gripped the edge of the dressing table tightly, your nails scratching fine lines on the lacquered surface, like the cracks in your heart.
21. You need to find out what changed on Zayne's end. Something must have happened at the front lines that caused him to return early, starting this chain effect.
At the sound of your voice, Greyson immediately stops and turns, standing respectfully before you.
âWhat are your orders, Madam?â
A cool morning breeze drifts through the courtyard, stirring a few brittle leaves across the stone path. You pull your coat tighter around yourself. The soft cashmere brushes your palms, but it does nothing to warm your cold fingertips.
After a momentâs hesitation, you speak.
âGreyson⊠thereâs something I want to ask. Is that alright?â
âOf course, Madam.â
The question youâve been holding back slips out before anything else.
âAfter heading north⊠has Zayne been injured?â
âRest assured,â Greyson replies immediately. âGeneral Zayne has not been harmed on the battlefield.â
Your shoulders loosen at once, tension draining from your body. But as you take another breath, another question follows, rough and uncertain. âAnd the situation in Tong county⊠how is it?â
âThe enemy is cunning and resisting fiercely.â Greyson's posture remains rigid, his voice steady and solemn. âHowever, General Zayneâs strategy has given us a decisive advantage.â
âWhen will the war be over?â
âIf everything proceeds normallyâŠâ He pauses, choosing his words carefully. âBy the end of the year. At the latest, early next spring. But battlefield conditions change constantly. No one can predict the exact timing.â
The question that has haunted you for days finally escapes.
âThen⊠why did Zayne come back now?â
The wind in the courtyard suddenly feels sharp.
Greyson's expression stiffens.
22. He still remembers the day he walked into the command post carrying old Liu's mail:Â Madam is safe.
âStill no news?â the voice from behind the desk asked calmly.
ââŠNo.â
Zayne remained bent over his desk, reviewing battle reports. At the answer, he simply lifts his eyes slightly. His knuckles tap once against the paper.
His expression reveals nothing.
That nightâs operations meeting is heavy with tension.
A baton sweeps across the war map of Tong county.
When Zayne suddenly announced that the night raid will be moved up to tomorrowâand that he will personally lead the assaultâCommander Chen knocks over his teacup in shock.
âGeneral Li, please reconsider!â Chen exclaims. âTwo artillery regiments have just been stationed east of the cityâtheyâre on full alert!â
Zayneâs face remained calm.
His finger taps a single point on the map.
âFrontline scouts have located the enemy ammunition depot.â
His voice is cold.
âThis opportunity wonât last. We strike immediately.â
The plan is revised within minutes. The arrow on the map now points directly toward Shanwan's most dangerous core fortress.
Next to the primary assault mission is a single name:
Zayne.
The room falls silent.
No one dares ask why.
23. Greyson's silence tightens something in your chest.
âItâs alright,â you say with a strained smile. âIf itâs not appropriate to tell meââ
âForgive my bluntness, Madam," Greyson lowers his voice.
âGeneral Li changed the battle plan because he was worried about you.â
Your breath catches.
âHe personally led the elite unit in the night raid on Shanwan's fortress.â
 Greyson finally meets your eyes.
âThe battle was moved forward⊠by twenty days.â
24. Cold shoots up your spine. Shock, fear, and crushing guilt twist together inside your chest.
Was it your silence? Your deliberate distance? Did that drive Zayne to such a reckless decision?
You always knew he would eventually notice something was wrong, but you never imagined that his concern would weigh so heavily that he would risk his life just to return sooner.
In the end, you forced him into an impossible choice.
And he never once told you.
25. After answering the rest of your questions, Greyson salutes sharply and leaves. His boots echo against the stone path until the sound fades.
You remain standing in the courtyard.
Magnolia branches cast shifting shadows over the blue bricks beneath your feet.
You tilt your head toward the sky. Clouds swallow the moon.
Your thoughts drift back to the first time you ever saw Zayne.
He had just returned from the western campaign. A parade filled the streets in celebration of the youngest man ever promoted to general.
You remember watching him ride past in dark armor atop a warhorse.
Back then, he seemed almost unreal.
Untouchable.
Invincible.
Something more than human.
Only later did realize the truth:Â He is just a man.
A man of flesh and blood.
And somewhere in the ordinary days you spent together in Anlan, something quiet and burning grew inside him.
A love strong enough to make him cross battlefields.
Strong enough to rush into danger for you.
But you are only a merchantâs daughter.
Someone who was never meant to carry the weight of a generalâs life.
If something happens to him because of youâŠ
You would never forgive yourself.
Your fingers tighten around the hem of your coat.
And what about next time?
What will he risk for you then?
âŠIt shouldnât be like this.
Before you appeared, Zayne's life followed a steady, predictable path.
Was meeting you his lifeâs greatest gift, or its cruelest curse?
The cold deepens, and the familiar ache returns. The same ache that haunted you very lonely night after Zayne left.
It never truly disappeared.
26. Greyson's words haunt your mind. While you know you should be better than this, that you're no better than Zayne right now, a pair of ostriches' sticking their heads into the sand, you escape to work anyhow, praying (with very little expectations) that you'll be distracted enough to stop spiraling. You send old Liu and your maid home early, despite their insistence; you've got one more place to go, alone.
Arriving at the glistening entrance of the largest hotel in the red-light district, you take a deep breath as you put on a butterfly mask and step through the doors. The grand hall is lined with dozens of lanterns. You give a pseudonym to the front desk, and the attendant leads you to a quiet, private room on the seventh floor.Â
You paid a hefty amount of money for a trustworthy informant. You needed to know if there was anything else Greyson left out, and exactly how fast word has spread (if it did already) about the identity of the General's wife.Â
You breath a sigh of relief as you dismiss the hooded man. Nothing too shocking. The rebels stirring trouble are sponsored by Governer Li Cui, no doubt just itching to make Zayne's role harder. As for the identity of the General's wife... he asked for an extra 200 liang of silver for any leads onto that topic. Seems like the Mayor kept his mouth shut.Â
Two young girls enter the room, nervously asking if their "esteemed patron" would like any entertainment or accompaniment tonight.Â
You waive your hand, catching the younger one's expression drop. Feeling bad, you call for her to play the zither for you, and order some food. You'll have dinner here.Â
You nurse the tea in your hands as the music ends, its lingering notes echoing. You give the girl a generous tip, instructing to be left alone for now.Â
Finally. Some peace and quiet.Â
You sit back down, wondering why your food hadn't arrived yet, when a fine sweat suddenly breaks out on your back.
At first, it feels like just a slight damp heat, but quickly turns into a strange, itchy sensation, creeping up your spine to the back of your neck, spreading across your body with alarming speed. When you take off your coat, your silk robe is already soaked and clinging to your back. The feeling of the fabric rubbing against your skin is amplified, bringing a wave of unsettling premonition.
Your gaze falls on the almost empty drink in your glass, and it dawns on you.
You'd been drugged!
Grabbing your handbag, you bolt towards the door. But the moment you try to stand up, your legs go weak; the soft carpet feels like walking on a sponge. With each step, your temples throb and your ears ring. The corridor is eerily silent; the waiter who should have been waiting outside is nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, you hear light footsteps behind you. Is it a hallucination, or the approach of a watchful eye lurking in the shadows?
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of a dark figure moving in the shadows of a pillar. With a nauseating laugh, Li Sheng strolls out slowly. "My Lady, where are you going in such a hurry?"
His gaze, sticky like a snake's tongue, slithers over your neck, already damp with a thin layer of sweat, finally settling on your slightly heaving chest.
"Sweating so much must be uncomfortable," he says, each word dripping with malice. "I'll take you to change your clothes."
"Li Sheng! How dare you! Aren't you afraid of being exposed?" you shout, but even you could hear the bluff in your weak tone.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lady Y/N," Li Sheng's face twists into a smug smile, "this is clearly consensual!"
The lamps on the corridor walls cast hazy, indistinct glows. Your body feels heavy, as if filled with lead, every inch of your skin burning. The heat intensifies, threatening to engulf you.
You grip the wall tightly with trembling fingers, your nails leaving shallow marks on the wallpaper. You force yourself to continue speaking, "If the Director knew you're out here ruining his career for amusementâŠ"
"You think you can threaten me with my old man's future?" Li Sheng's laughter grows increasingly manic. "Don't you know who my uncle is?"
In the past, he had repeatedly hinted that he wanted the title of chairman for the Chamber of Commerce, but you had always deftly shot the idea down.
Now, seeing your flushed cheeks and dazed eyes, the prey he had long coveted was finally about to be obtained! The desire in his eyes are almost bursting forth.
You slowly retreat against the cold wall, your trembling fingers fumbling haphazardly in your bag. The moment your fingertips touch the cool metal, Zayne's deep voice echoes in your mind:
"If you ever encounter an unkind situation, just attack. No need to hold back."
You abruptly pull out the dagger he'd given you for self-defense, shouting, "Come any closer, and I'll kill you!"
Li Sheng is startled by this sudden turn of events, stumbling backwards and knocking over a vase stand. Amidst the crisp sound of shattering porcelain, he stares at your trembling wrist and your misty, unfocused eyes, licking his dry lips.
"Don't get excited. Who are you trying to scare with a little knife? Come on, I'll take you to have some fun..."
"Get lost!" Your senses are overwhelmed. Your fingers grip the handle tightly, but your vision begins to blur. In the split second your field of vision fades, you see Li Sheng's oily face suddenly contort into a familiar expression.
"Zayne...?" A murmur escapes your lips as your hand holding the dagger suddenly goes limp, the blade making a crisp sound as it falls lifelessly to the ground.
The lanterns cast an eerie light on Li Sheng's face. Seizing your momentary lapse in concentration, he lunges forward with a sinister grin, "Good little sister, let your brother pamper you..."
At the critical momentâ
"Thunkâ!" The sound of metal piercing through flesh cuts through the haze.
"Ahhhâ!" Li Sheng lets out a piercing scream, two blades bursting through the front of his thighs. He collapses to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, his legs convulsing and twitching.
The stench of blood fills the hall.
You struggle to open your leaden eyelids, your vision blurred.
At the end of the corridor, black military boots tread across the wreckage.
A tall, slender figure approaches you against the light, the gold on his belt ornaments gleaming with a chilling light. His cold, sharp features are accentuated by the interplay of light and shadow, a heavy, chilling aura surrounding him.
Only when his face, etched deep into your soul, gradually becomes clear does your anxious heart finally calmâ
It's Zayne.
He's arrived.
27. The night is thick.
The sound of the hooves of a dozen or so war horses nearly drown out the music and commotion along the roads of the red light district, screeching to a halt in front of the grand hotel.Â
The manager bows as he rushes forward, his obsequious smile freezing the moment he sees the uniform of the person in the lead.
The burning lanterns reflect Zayne's sharply defined jaw. His black cloak billows in the night wind, rustling like a dark cloud, radiating a suffocating sense of oppression.
Seeing a group of well-trained, heavily armed guards surrounding him, the manager's legs go weak as he realizes with shock that the man he had mistaken for a noble young master was actually a high-ranking military officerâ
"General Li! what brings you here..." the manager's voice trembles.
Zayne's expression is indifferent, his gaze sharp enough to cut ice. "Where is the Lady of Y/N Trading Company?"
"She's...she's in the private room on the seventh floor..." any last consideration for the protection of customer privacy immediately went out the window. The manager can't help but wonder: Is the General here for revenge, or for love?
Before he even finishes speaking, Zayne is already stepping towards the back staircase.
The numbers on the stairwell keep changing, the lights reflecting Zayne's tense jawline. In the steady sound of his footsteps, he can nearly hear his own heartbeat. He hasn't experienced this foreboding feeling, the sense of losing control in many years.Â
He pushes open the gliding door to the seventh floor, his guards rushing out from both sides, pinning down any lookouts before they could react.Â
A lewd laugh, a weak shout, and the sound of shattering porcelain pierces Zayne's eardrums. His brows furrow slightly, his right hand already on his scabbard.
His pace suddenly increases as he turns the corner, and the scene under the warm yellow wall lamp makes his blood freeze instantlyâ
You lean weakly against the wall, your sweat-dampened hair clinging to your pale cheeks. Across from you, a man in rich garments grins maliciously, about to grab your wrist.
His hands reach for his throwing daggers on autopilot, aiming, releasing.
Two loud sounds, the entire sequence of movements fluid and swift.
Zayne's face remains calm, only the bulging veins on his neck silently betraying his overwhelming rage.
Your back slides slowly down the wall, his heart tightening at the sound of your weak call, "Zayne..."
He casually tosses his sword to Greyson behind him, arriving beside you in two strides, and kneeling down to gently pull you into his arms. His eyes darken as he touches your burning forehead and unusually flushed cheeks.
It's obvious you'd been drugged.
"It's alright, I'm here." Zayne lowers his head, kissing the top of your head, his usually cold voice filled with reassurance.
"Murder! Help!" Li Sheng collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding knees and screaming. His expensive robes are soaked with cold sweat and blood, his once slick face now a pale gray.
Even as guards restrain him, the spoiled brat still dares to shout defiantly, "Youâyou dare touch me?! My uncle is the Governor of Anlan!"
Zayne lowers his gaze, the chill in his eyes like an unyielding glacier. The chilling, condescending gaze is almost tangible, its terrifying pressure making Li Sheng's chest tighten, forcing him to choke on the rest of his words .
Greyson's military boots grind against the bloody wound at just the right moment. Amid Li Sheng's screams, Zayne is already carrying you down the stairs.
The commotion alerts everyone downstairs. Private room doors open one after another, and those who curiously peek out are quickly pulled back by security guards.
The manager stands frozen, staring at the shattered porcelain and winding trails of blood on the floor. His shirt, soaked with cold sweat, cling to his back, his mind blank.
He never would have dreamed that one of his wealthy and mysterious VIPs was actually the wife of the General! And that General Li actually dared to openly stab the Governor's nephew without any regard for the consequences, all for your sake.
The sound of the convoy's harness bells ring through the night, the powerful sounds of hooves clearing a path through the streets as it speeds towards the residence of the city's best-known doctor.
Your cheeks flush a sickly red in the dim light of the carriage, fine beads of sweat trickling down your neck and into your disheveled collar. You tremble as you climbed onto Zayne's lap, the rough texture of his military outerwear brushing against your burning skin sends a shiver down your spine. Your fingertips grip the crisp collar of his robe, pulling at the creases. Zayne's breathing remains steady, his left arm encircling your waist like iron, his right hand firmly supporting your limp knees.
"So hot..." Your hazy eyelashes tremble, your hot breath spraying onto his neck, "Zayne, kiss me..."
The aphrodisiac courses through your veins like a thousand ants gnawing at your nerves, making every inch of your skin unbearably hot.
"Mmm." Zayne's adam's apple bobs slightly, a fleeting emotion flashing through his eyes. Cool, thin lips gently cover yours, like a handful of snow in a cold night.
The kiss is too brief to quell the heat within you. You instinctively follow him, your teeth brushing against his lower lip in your haste, the metallic taste spreading between your intertwined breaths. Your tongue, without warning, fiercely entwines with his.
A moment later, Zayne pulls back slightly, calmly gripping your wrist as your hands begin unraveling his military uniform.
"Stop."
Your palm slides inside his shirt, tracing the firm, undulating muscles of his chest. The next second, your lips press against his Adam's apple, your tongue lightly sweeping across the prominent curve, the warm, wet lick causing a suppressed gasp to escape his throat.
Zayne quickly leans back against the plush seat. "Sit still, listen to me." He pulls your restless hands away.
All your senses are amplified by the drug. The touch of skin against skin, the friction of the military uniform fabric, all transform into a fine electric current, coursing along your spine to every limb.
"I want Zayne..." Every nerve screams, burning reason to ashes.
You bite his collarbone, rubbing against him, your legs unconsciously twisting beneath your skirt, wrinkling his trousers in varying depths.
"Don't move," Zayne warns, his hand firmly supporting your hips, stopping your dangerous movement.
He watches you intently, a turbulent worry hidden beneath his calm eyes, his gaze frequently glancing at the street scene outside the window.
Time stretches endlessly in his anxiety.
Unable to find relief, you collapse into his arms, tears falling like pearls, splashing onto the front of his uniform, leaving dark ripples on the fabric.
"Waaah... Zaynie doesn't love me anymore..."
This tearful accusation makes Zayne stiffen. He looks down at you trembling in his arms. His embrace suddenly tightens, the force almost crushing you into his bones.
"Don't speak recklessly." His voice is cold and deep, but his fingertips gently wipe at your moist eyes, only causing more tears to burst out like a broken dam.
You sob in his arms, your burning forehead pressed against his neck, your trembling lips opening and closing, your voice filled with a wronged, pitiful tone: "But Zayne... he's never... never said he loves me."
Zayne's breath hitches.
In this world where trust is few and far between, you stood up for him time and time again, backing him with all your trust and vulnerability without reservation.
He was never the most eloquent nor outspoken person, believing that daily companionship, meticulous care, and quiet, profound protection were more powerful than a thousand words.
Only now does he realize that the love he thought was self-evident had always been shrouded in a hazy mist in your eyes.Â
In the moment, he can't discern whether this heart-wrenching accusation is the delirious rambling of someone under the influence of drugs, or a long-buried bewilderment finally being poured out from your heart. Perhaps his long-held belief that "silence speaks louder than words," his self-righteous form of protection, was precisely the thing that suspends his hard-won love above an invisible abyss.
Gently cradling your tear-streaked face, Zayne calls your name softly, finally uttering the words he's long been hiding in his heart:
"I love you."
The three words are as light as snowflakes falling on pine branches, yet the trembling tone carries a surging emotion, weighing a hundred tons.
How he longs to look into your eyes, to let you see this long-held affection.
But your eyes are blurred with tears, your consciousness shrouded in chaos, making this belated confession seem so pale.
The fire in you burns - you feel like you're dying. Your consciousness is quickly fading as a surge of emotions well up in your chest, fearful you'll never have the chance to tell him anything again. âI neverâŠwanted to leave the Generalâ
Life is short, and every second in the inferno reminds you that an accident could happen in an instant. How can you bear to keep these words hidden in your heart?
A bitter pang of guilt surges through his chest. Zayne can only hold you tighter, letting the heartache gnaw at him inside. âI know,â his clear voice piercing through the haze and night wind.
Driven completely by desire now, you indeed disregard his confession, only crying even more bitterly, "If you love me, why won't you give it to me!"
"Let's go see the doctor first, wait until you're better..."
"No, I want it now! It hurts so much, Zayne, help me..."
Zayne's military trousers beneath your skirt are already soaked through. Your trembling fingertips touch his belt, groping for the taut, burning heat through the fabric.
He forces himself to tear his eyes away from you, instead focusing on the passing road signs, estimating you'd arrive in five minutes at most.
"Hang in there, we're almost there," he says calmly, gently pressing down on your flailing hands.
"No!" you cry out, struggling even more fiercely, your nails scratching the back of his hands until they bleed. "He's rejecting me even now; Zayne definitely likes someone else, he doesn't want me anymore!"
Your uncontrollable cries pierce his ears, but the dull pain rising in his chest was even more suffocating. Zayne looks down at you, his eyes as clear as a frozen lake, reflecting your swaying figure. Since the night of your wedding back at the capital, he had promised to love you "until death do us apart". How could he betray the vow etched into his very bones?
âAbsolutely impossible.â Zayne holds your struggling wrists with one hand, gently stroking your tear-streaked cheek with the other. His thin lips lightly brush against the corner of your reddened eyes, kissing away the tears.
As your noses touch, the words he uttered are cold yet resolute: âIn this life, I have only ever loved you.â
From beginning to end, he was a clumsy loverâ Stubbornly using actions instead of words, trying to offer you the best of everything, but forgetting that words are the most direct way to convey one's feelings. You used to laugh on his shoulder, playfully complaining that his indulgence had made you increasingly spoiled and unruly.
But haven't you also been tolerating his unyielding silence and distance day after day, accommodating his reticent nature? Was there ever a moment when you felt a touch of weariness in the face of his taciturnity? He should have told you long ago that he loved you more than anything in the world.
"You're lying to me!" You abruptly turn your face away, tears streaming down your cheeks and into the corners of your lips. "Zayne just... doesn't want me anymore!"
This impromptu rebuttal pierces Zayne's heart like a needle. He grasps your chin, his thumb gently tracing your moist lips.
"Every word comes from the bottom of my heart. I've never uttered a single falsehood in front of you." The emotions surging in his chest condense into a sigh from his throat. Zayne calls you by your full name, "Y/N, I can't live without you."
How could he make you understand that you were the one who added vibrant color to his otherwise monochromatic life?
You are his most precious surprise.
His life, which had been following a set path, only became alive, colorful, and complete with your arrival. It must be the thought that you haven't done enough, wasn't been good enough, that trapped you in a quagmire of self-pity and doubt.
He's never imagined that he would repeatedly express his feelings to you in a situation like this. How much of this confession in this broken moment will you remember once you regain your senses?
Doesn't matter now.
Whether it be a hundred mistakes, a thousand mistakes, no matter what, the blame lies with him. After all, he was the one who failed to protect you, who failed to be honest with you in time.
He won't complain; he'll only be grateful that you're still by his side
28. A warm yellow flame shines in the room.
You open your eyes, your eyelashes fluttering. Your vision is still blurry when a joyful whisper reaches your ears: "Madam, you're finally awake!"
You recognize the voice to be Yvonne's despite still being somewhat dazed. Just as you try to clear your groggy thoughts, a sudden dry, burning pain wells up in your throat. Hearing your dry cough, Yvonne immediately calls for the handmaid to fetch water.
You try to sit up, supporting yourself on your arms, but before you can even process what was happening, you blurt out, "Where's Zayne?"
Old Liu comes up behind Yvonne, "General Li, he..." his lips move, doesn't finish the sentence.Â
Yvonne steps in, gently bringing a cup of warm water to your lips. "Madam, do you know how much you scared us when the General brought you home? Thank heavens you're awake, or else the General would be on the verge of changing dynasties instead simply the Governor."
A sinking feeling rises in your stomach. "How long was I out for?"
Yvonne looks at old Liu nervously, gently patting your back as she slowly says, "it's been eight days."
"What happened to Zayne?" Your heart tightens, your fingers unconsciously gripping the sheets as you ask urgently, "Where is he?"
"General Li is... he's..."
Old Liu's reaction is strange; why is he hesitating?
Anxiety courses through your veins, you couldn't wait any longer. You throw back the thin blanket and try to get out of bed, but the moment your feet touch the cold floor, your legs nearly give out, causing you to sway. "Madam, be careful!" Yvonne rushes forward, her voice filled with worry.
"If you won't tell me, I'll go find him myself!" You brush away the hand that tries to support you. Even though your legs are weak, all you wanted was to find Zayne immediately to confirm his safety.
"Madam, the General went to the Governor's residence!" Old Liu finally shouts.Â
You turn your head in shock.Â
Old Liu remembers the early hours of the morning that Zayne brought you home. He had carried you in his arms the entire time since bringing you to the doctor, now carefully setting your fully unconscious figure into bed, gently, as if putting down an ancient relic. He continued to stay by your side the entire night, only instructing that the brewing of medicine brought back was not to be stopped, and wiping away beads of sweat on your forehead from the high fever.Â
When the door finally opened, all the high ranking officials and commanding officers who had been waiting in the corridor stand up in unison.Â
Zayne walks out, his military uniform crumpled to the point of nearly being unpresentable, but his brows are furrowed with a chilling aura that drops the temperature of the hall several degrees.Â
Greyson and the others feel their throats tighten, unconsciously holding their breath.Â
"It's been a day and night. Why hasn't the Madam woken up yet?" Zayne hisses through clenched teeth.Â
Mayor Jiang's back instantly breaks out into a cold sweat. He hurriedly turns around and orders several attendants behind him, "Quick! Send notice to the imperial physician! Immediately!"Â
Taking advantage of the brief pause, Greyson cautiously takes a half step forward. "Reporting to General Li, everyone involved in yesterday's incident has been apprehended. Four different entertainment venues throughout the city have been shut down for rectification. The source of the drug used has been traced, and several suspicious channels have been identified..."
The report is concise and clear, but Zayne doesn't even lift his eyelids, his expression completely unchanged.
Just as Greyson begins to wonder if Zayne even cared about the follow-up actions, Zayne suddenly turns his head, an icy gaze falling upon the crowd.
"Only investigate the city?"
The casual question sends a chill down Greyson's spine. He quickly bows and replies, "I will immediately order a special investigation across the entire Anlan area! A detailed report will be presented to you in three days!"
Zayne's aura grows even colder. "I've only been gone for six months, and Anlan's security has deteriorated to this extent."
Mayor Jiang lowers his head even further, tripping over his words, "...I have failed in my duty."
"On the third morning when you still didn't wake up, the General led a troop of soldiers to surround the residence of Governor Li Cui... They were greeted with a fierce offense..."
Gasping, you stumble over the doorstep, tears welling up in your eyes as you make a beeline towards Zayne's quarters. You barely register Greyson standing guard outside the door and Old Liu's cry of "the Lady is here!" from behind you.
With a "whoosh," the sliding doors are abruptly pulled open and you turn your head in the dim lighting to lookâ
On the makeshift bed, Zayne leans against the headboard. His dark eyes, gazing at you, are as deep as the night, with a faint, gentle light in their depths.
Your pupils constrict, all your worry and lingering fear instantly overwhelming any reason. Ignoring the presence of the servants and subordinates outside the door, forgetting the pain in your body, you instinctively rush towards him, throwing yourself into his arms, tears streaming down your face.
Seeing this, Greyson gently closes the door behind him, leaving space for the two of you to be alone.
The sound of your weeping fills the quiet room.
29. You press your forehead tightly against Zayne's neck, the familiar scent of cedar filling your breath, but tears stream down your cheeks like broken beads, each drop landing on his collarbone, leaving a damp patch.
His arms tighten around your waist, his other hand gently resting on your trembling back. The warmth of his palm seeps through the thin fabric, stroking you softly and slowly, silently comforting you.
After a long while, your sobbing subsides.
You sniff, nose red, and slowly raise your tear-streaked face, looking at him through blurry eyes: "Zayne, do you know... I was so scared?"
He lowers his gaze, silently watching you. His olive eyes are deep and undecipherable, yet he does not immediately respond.
"What if... what if you didn't find me..." You clutch his sleeve, a lump in your throat. "What if I couldn't find you after all of this... what would I do?"
"It's all in the past." He raises his hand, his cool fingertips gently wiping away the tears from your eyes.
"You were so hasty! Going to take down the Governor?! My life isn't worth the General risking everything like this..." Your voice trembles, tears streaming down your face even more fiercely this time. "What will happen to Anlan if something happens to you?!"
As soon as you finish speaking, Zayne's face darkens.
His fingertips remain on your cheek, but his tone grows cold. "So, according to you, knowing you're being unfairly targeted and trapped, I should stand idly by, watch your ruin, become a widower, and live the rest of my life alone?"
Seeing an unprecedented surge of ferocity in his eyes, you frantically shake your head, the oppressive atmosphere around him suffocating. Grabbing his collar, you sniffle as you protest,  "No, Zayne, I didn't mean that⊠I'm just afraid, I'm afraid the sacrifices were not worth it."
In an unusually impatient manner, Zayne abruptly interrupts you. "You seem to think I will always remain calm, make judgments without a trace of personal feelings, and make the so-called right choicesâŠ"
His voice is as deep as a frozen pool: "But what if I told you, there are times when I can't?"
"âŠ" You stare at him in shock, words stuck in your throat, only letting helpless tears silently stream down your cheeks.
The meaning of "I can't" in Zayne's words is self-evident. His words precisely pierce the deepest, most hidden thought in your heart. Because he is Zayne Li, a towering, unshakeable snow-capped mountain, someone born to sit firmly on a high platform. Therefore, even if the sky were to fall, he could bear it all without flinching. You naturally assumed that no matter how great the storms of life blew, whether you were by his side or not, he could control all his emotions, slowly digest everything, and then continue on his path with composure.
But now, he gazes steadily at you, laying bare, word by word, the words he has never spoken before. When it comes to "losing you," Zayne is utterly incapable of remaining calm and composed.
His eyes lock onto your gaze without allowing you even the slightest hesitation. "If I were in danger, would you have stood by and done nothing?"
You shake your head, biting your lower lip tightly until you taste the faint metallic flavor of blood.
"In that case, why belittle yourself?" He sighs softly, a barely perceptible tenderness hidden in his voice.
His fingertips slowly cover your reddened lips, gently caressing them, forcing you to loosen your grip.
You raise a hand to wipe away your tears as you hear Zayne speak slowly, his voice low and calm. "I've said it before, even without me, Anlan's well-established military and political system is sufficient to maintain normal operations."
His tone is unwavering, revealing his usual certainty as if everything is under control, as if he had already considered everything thoroughly.
But your concerns go beyond just his reassurance.
As far as you know, no one else can protect the vast Northern Territories as firmly as Zayne, allowing the people to live and work in peace and without worries. Countless times you've prayed that there would never be a day when he would be forced to choose between Anlan and you. However, the moment Zayne rushed into the hotel without hesitation, he had already given you his answer with his actions.
Only you can melt his heart, through glaciers and towering peaks.Â
30. Your heart skips a beat as you finally understand his intentions. As the initial shock subsides, a lingering sense of melancholy rises from your understanding his desperate, all-or-nothing resolve. Previously, you had naively believed that continued indifference would eventually drive the two of you apart, leading to a natural separation. You thought time would be the best healer, capable of smoothing all wounds. You were convinced that he would gradually let go of this relationship and eventually move on to new lives.
But now, you're sure.
He will never let go of you.
Just as your heart will never let go of him.
"I'm sorry Zayne... I misspoke." Your emotions are still raw, and you hiccup, fiercely trying to wipe the tears away from your eyes. "I'll never say that again."
"It's alright." Zayne gently places his hand on the back of your head, pulling you close to his chest, letting you press against his warm embrace. "If you encounter any danger again in the future, you must discuss it with me. You're not allowed to venture into it alone, understand?"
"Yes... I understand." You look up at him, your voice muffled. "Actually, after you left Anlan, I thought about you every single day..."
The weariness is getting to you, your words becoming increasingly incoherent as you try to pour your heart to him. "No, actually, even when you were in Anlan, I thought about you every single day too..."
Zayne gazes at you intently, listening quietly to your murmurs.
"It's all my fault, Zayne, I'm so sorry..." Before you can finish, his cool fingertips gently press against your lips, stopping your words.
He calls your name softly, his voice calm and deep: "...Never say those three words to me."
How could it be your fault? It was clearly all his fault.
The night before heading north, he clearly sensed something was wrong with you, yet he didn't ask a single question. For over two hundred days and nights, he let you suffer alone.
Zayne doesn't rush to comfort you, simply raising his hand to stroke your back gently, offering silent support. He lets you pour out all the pent-up anxiety and grievances you had been suppressing into his arms.Â
âAt the hotel, when you suddenly appearedâŠâ Your voice is hoarse, âI was scared, scared that you wouldnât want me anymoreâŠâ
Before you finished speaking, the tears you had been barely holding back surged and rolled down your cheeks again.
A bitter sigh sweeps through Zayne's heart.
He's never seen you like this before.
The you he knew was innocent, carefree, and confident.
Even when you let your guard down in front of him, you've never been so completely out of control.
Zayne suddenly recalls in past, whenever he was preparing to leave Anlan, you would occasionally reveal a sorrowful expression in a hidden corner, yet you always forced a smile in front of him, secretly hiding the bitterness of separation, afraid of hurting him or adding to his worries.
A warm hand gently touches your cheek, his thumb softly tracing your tear-streaked face. His expression is soft enough to melt glass, his words slow and deep as they reach your ears: "Me too."
You're stunned, tears instantly welling in your eyes.
You understand what Zayne is referring to.Â
He, too, feared that one day, you would let go of his hand for once and for all. Feared that you would no longer need him, feared that you would walk alone into a future without him. The General who had always hidden his emotions so deeply, was revealing to you the fear and concern he had buried deep within his heart for so long.
You reach out, pressing your cheek against the palm of his hand, gently rubbing your face against his palm. "I never want to leave you again."
"Then don't" Zayne replies, a chuckle leaving his throat.
The next second, his lips gently cover yours, as soft as a cloud.
Zayne doesn't move, only letting your lips brush against his, leaving a faint, memorable scent.
He lowers his head, and a very light kiss lands on your brow, silently conveying a thousand unspoken words: Thank you for overcoming all obstacles to stay by his side. He'll make sure you never feel lonely again.
Bump!
RuminatingâŠ
What do I write
Sylus angst
Rafayel angst
Pls go work on your current WIPs
Mildew and Frost
Synopsis: General!Zayne x Wife!Reader What to do when after a triumphant return, your adorable wife starts acting cold and independent?! Zayne is about to tear himself apart. The night he told you he was leaving again, he had clearly sensed something was wrong, so why did he still lead the army north as planned? If he had left a few days later, If he had stayed by your side, If he had taken you with him, Would everything have been different?
Warning(s): Slight graphical descriptions of violence + SA. Hurt/comfort! TBH this all started because I wanted to write Zayne yearning so this fic is literally just 90% constipated feelings and 10% plot. If Zayne and reader spent 1% more time communicating instead of overthinking and overworking themselves this all probably could have been avoided LOL.
22k words
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for this (very belated) fic! I had so many different ideas for how this would go at first, and went a little overboard on the pinning ¯\_(ă)_/ÂŻ. Grab some popcorn for the ride!
1. Fallen leaves swirl furiously in the autumn wind as Zayne tightens his grip on the reigns of his horse.Â
The mid-afternoon sun reflects the general's silhouette, shrouded in a military cloak, as he hugs a sandalwood food box tighter in his arms. Inside are his wife's favorite pastries, the oil-paper wrappings tied with red string, exuding the fragrant scent of jasmine.
"Follow close," his command rings to the rest of the party, its tone as cold as cedar.
"Yes, sir." Greyson calls, urging his horse faster as the battle report from the defense line on the northern border of Anlan rustles in his bag. The general was in a rush to return, riding day and night from the front lines, having successively captured Tong county, just to surprise his wife.
Zayne stops at the street corner opposite the main entrance of the Anlan prefecture court. In the northern continent, women were rarely involved in public affairs, let alone any governing branch. However, the Anlan territory had only been established in the last few years, and most of its power came from the agriculture and trade routes running through the northern borders. You were the eldest daughter of the most prominent merchant family from the capital, whose last name carried influence and protection critical for stability in the area. Hence, when Zayne was asked to choose a wife soon after he was instated the governor of the land, your name was at the top of the pile of offers received, over princesses and other royal family connections.Â
Since you were young, your dream was to follow in your father's footsteps, refusing to be another "sophisticated" young lady, locked away in her chambers until she was wed. Your father, aghast at first, eventually learned to appreciate your sharp eye for business, and it was only under his irrefutable stance against staunch opposition that you were allowed to open your own store fronts and expand the family business.Â
More than three years ago, on the stormy night you left for Anlan with your new husband, your dear father, fearing unrest in the newly established northern province, secretly entrusted the reins of the northern trade routes to you.Â
Zayne specifically instructed that your identity not be revealed within the Chamber of Commerce and on official records. Though your abilities were undeniable, it would not be able to withstand public criticism. He didn't want competing families to accuse your house of using his power to gain prominence, when in reality, it was the other way around.
As the flickering golden lanterns cast shadow across the grand building, your striking figure emerges from behind the large, bronze doors.Â
Greyson calls to Zayne, who is in the middle of reviewing documents. "General, the lady is leaving. Should we call her back?"
Zayne looks up and says coldly, "Wait."
His gaze follows your back. Your apricot robes brush lightly across the snowy floor of the courtyard. As you reach the exit, he sees the young man following behind you offer his arm as leverage as you cross the doorstep.Â
He recognizes the man as Rafayel, the youngest son of the Qi family, an ancient house known for their patronage of the arts. He says something intelligible, and you raise your eyebrows as if replying, "you're so clever".Â
Below the steps, the horseman opens the front drape of the palanquin. Rafayel's right hand, gloved in deerskin, protects the top of your head. You get into the seat first, pearl earrings swaying in the cold breeze.Â
Rafayel takes the reins of his horse from the squire behind, falling into step beside you.Â
Greyson takes a sharp breath, internally screaming at the horseman as he watches you take off, "what kind of staff are you?! Not a semblance of proper judgement for the lady of the house?!"Â
Zayne's knuckles are blue and white from gripping his brush.Â
"General, should I go stop them?"
"No need. Back to the mansion."Â
The sandalwood food box rattles softly on the bumpy return journey. Zayne's head is bowed the whole time, face obscured by shadow, his expression unreadable. Greyson, smelling the sweet aroma of jasmine pastries, dares not to say a word.Â
Twilight climbs over the fence of the Li mansion as the gate opens for the return of the master.Â
"General Li, you're back ahead of time!"Â
Housekeeper Yvonne, dressed in a dark green gown, greets him with a smile, bowing as she takes his military cloak. "The kitchen is preparing dinner. The lady said she would be back for dinner before she left this morning."Â
Zayne nods, "I brought back some swallow nests."Â
"I'll take them to the kitchen right away! They'll be ready for the Lady when she returns."Â
"I'll be in my study".
Upon Greyson hauling the entire bag of military and governing documents onto his study table, Zayne waves his hand, indicating he is to be left alone.
He looks out the window at the magnolia trees in the courtyard.Â
When he last left Anlan, it was early spring. The magnolias were in full bloom, crystal clear and white, like snow and lotus. You were standing with him under the trees, admiring the flowers.
Now, as he returns, it is nearly winter.Â
Before opening the large bag of files, Zayne glances at the painting in frame. The first lunar new year the two of you celebrated together. You wore a red dress, smiling brightly, holding his arm.Â
Yvonne comes in moment later with a tea tray. A celadon teacup sits on the corner of the table, steam rising, the fresh harvest of Tieguanyin leaves floating on top.
At 7:15, Yvonne pours the first cup of tea.
âThe Lady is usually home by now,â she comments. âGeneral Li, should we send someone to the court to check?â
âNo need,â Zayne replies without looking up.
At 8:00, the bells ring, signaling evening. Yvonne adds tea for the second time.
âGeneral, the Lady could be held up by something. Would you like to eat first?"
âNo rush.â Zayne reviews the military supplies list, the tip of his wolfhair brush sweeping across the documents.
At 9:00 sharp, the bells chime for the second time. Another half hour later, Yvonne enters again, slowly this time.Â
âGeneral⊠the Madam is backâŠshe said she has already eaten.â
His brush stills, ink bleeding into the page. Zayne leans back in his chair, the wood creaking softly.
"Where is she?"
Usually at this time, the sound of your boots clicking on the floor would grow louder as they approach.
You normally greet him faster than Yvonne. Before you even appear, your voice precedes your arrival; he can see you excitedly push open the door, hearing you sweetly call "Zayne!" and then let you throw yourself into his arms saying, "I missed you so much."
But you didn't appear.
"Madam went back to her room to rest. She said she spent the whole day at the administrative building checking accounts and is very tired." Yvonne pauses, then asks hesitantly, "The food is still warm. Would you like to go to the dining room?"
The thunk of the brush's handle hitting the table stands out in the heavy silence of Zayne's study. He stands up, "I'll be there shortly".
The sound of his military boots clapping against the bamboo halls is deep and powerful.
The lamps in the corridor hall cast Zayne's long shadow onto the doorway, just enough to cover your handmaid as she hurriedly leaves the room.
She carries the sandalwood food box in her hands, the oil-paper package inside untouched, the red string that tied it together hanging loosely, like a thread of fate that was severed.Â
Noticing his gaze, the maid looks troubled.Â
"G-general Li! The Lady said the pastries were too sweet⊠s-she can't stand the taste anymoreâŠ"
2. Zayne pushes the sliding door open, seeing the person he had been longing for sitting with her back to him, facing the dressing table. Your figure swayed with the candlelight as he looks through the beaded curtain hanging from the doorway. The dressing mirror reflects your movements as you wipe rouge from your lips with a silk handkerchief.
"You're back."
You don't turn around, calm voice revealing little joy at your husband's safe return from the front lines.
"New roads along the northeast trade routes were completed - the journey was greatly shortened." Zayne stops behind you.
You clear the surface of your dresser, putting away a gardenia hairpin into your makeup box. "I saw in the report that you undermined a riot set up by rebels and had a decisive victory."
"Hmm. The news traveled faster than expected." He places his palms on your shoulders, lifting one hand to gently stroke your hair. "I didn't receive any letters from you this time."
"The war is urgent, I was afraid of disturbing you, general," you reply smoothly.
In the past, Zayne would receive letters from you without fail, and he would always dismiss everyone from his tent as he opens the envelope.
The smooth paper would smell of pine and musk. You send them with a sprig of evergreen tucked inside, saying they would refresh him. At the end of each letter would be a drawing of a little figure with a pink flower in their hair and a smiling face. You said this little figure represented you. The letters are short, but the sentiment is deep, mere words insufficient to express the full depth of your longing.Â
At the crack of dawn before the start of a battle, Zayne would take out your letters and read them repeatedly, his finger tracing the ink as if caressing a face hundreds of miles away. He would imagine the expressions and feelings you had when you wrote each word before carefully folding the letter and placing it in the inner pocket of his armor, close to his heart.
"Hmmm," Zayne's fingers curl slightly around a lock of your hair. He has no choice but to accept your words.Â
You change the subject as you close your jewelry case. "Have you eaten yet?"
"No," sensing your lack of interest in conversation, Zayne's voice lowers. "Come with me."
"I thought Yvonne informed you that I already ate."
"There's swallow nest soup for you in the kitchen." His icy fingertips graze the back of your neck.
You shudder, turning your head slightly to avoid his touch. "I'm already full."
"Come keep me company." Zayne leans down, hands bracing against the edge of your dressing table, trapping you between it and his chest. The silver buckle of his belt presses against the small of your back, the coldness of the metal seeping through your robe sends a shiver down your spine.
You try not to look at your overlapping figures reflected in the mirror as you continue to remove your earrings. "I'm tired, Zayne. Hurry and go eat, don't keep Yvonne and the others waiting."Â
Zayne's nose grazes your neck, jaw tightening for a moment as he faintly detects a scent that wasn't yours. He stares at the shadow cast by your eyelashes before brushing his nose against your earlobe, pink from your fiddling with the earrings.
"Zayne, you should go." You struggle slightly to leave his grasp, but he only tightens his arms around you, chin now resting on top of your head. He repeats firmly, "stay with me."Â
3.
Zayne's slender fingers hold a jade spoon, stirring rock sugar into a porcelain bowl filled with swallow's nest soup before pushing it towards you. The steam rising from the bowl creates a hazy filter, blurring the once familiar face sitting across the table.Â
He picks up silver chopsticks and begins to eat.Â
You lower your eyes, staring blankly at the translucent snow swallow. It is thick and syrupy, no doubt of the highest quality. You unconsciously keep stirring the spoon, its soft, tinkling sounds filling the silence between you.
Zayne finally breaks the emptiness.
"How have you been these past few months?"
"Thanks to your hard work, everything is good," you reply.
"What have you been up to these days?"
In the past, you would chatter to him excitedly, telling him all sorts of interesting news; but now, you only give him a perfunctory reply, "you know, the same old. Busy with the Chamber of Commerce matters."Â
The night wind infiltrates through a window slightly ajar. The cold breeze carries the scent of cedar and pine, ruffling the hairs around your ear.Â
Zayne raises his hand, stopping abruptly an inch from your temple. He gently tucks a stray hair behind your ear as you look at him with indifferent eyes.Â
Silence falls at the table once again.
You, having only eaten a few bites of the swallow nest as the soup grows cold, lean back in your chair and close your eyes in fatigue. The warm lanterns cast a trembling shadow across your face. Zayne watches you quietly, the wool fabric of his military coat wrinkling from his tight grip under the table.Â
As midnight approaches, you cough softly as Zayne's cool, cedar scent suddenly envelops you, feeling your back hit the sheets on your bed. "General, you must be exhausted from days of travel. You should rest early."
The arm around your waist pauses, then tightens. Zayne buries his face in your neck, breath carrying the chill of a thousand miles of wind.
"It's alright."
You press your hand tightly against the sash of your nightgown. "Zayne⊠can you spare me tonight?"
"I haven't been home in a long time. You told me it was cold and lonely in the bedchamber without me here, the quilt as cold as ironâŠ" his words burn your earlobe.
"T-that was a long time ago," you tilt your head, trying to curl into a defensive ball, but he draws you closer in his arms. "I was just joking!" your voice turns into a suppressed yelp as he nibbles at your collarbone.
"Zayne! Nngh, I'm tired."
Zayne's palms burn against your waist, softly rubbing the silk before moving down to your lower abdomen.
"I've been⊠cough⊠busy looking through the merchant guild's accounts⊠cough cough" tears well in your eyes as you try to catch your breath.
Zayne stops to help you sit up, pouring you a cup of warm water to bring to your lips.
"A cough?" he frowns, "I'll call the doctor tomorrow." He pulls your gown up, wrapping your figure tightly in the blankets.
"It's fine, I'll be better by tomorrow," you croak.
"Hmm⊠sleep."
The incense clock burns past 2am.
The elaborate brocade quilt builds a whole mountain range between you and Zayne. You're curled up into a ball, fast asleep on the far edge of the large bed.Â
Zayne's posture is perfect, lying straight on his back, hands folded across his abdomen as always. A faint sigh escapes his throat, betraying a trace of his emotions.
4. Morning light streams into the room as you wake up.
Struggling to move, you freeze when you realize you have company. Zayne's arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly in his embrace. His breath, still slightly groggy, brushes against the back of your neck, like the thin mist of early autumn. Despite the limited amount of time you have spent with your husband, you know this is highly unusual.Â
You gently nudge his chest with your elbow, trying to get up, but Zayne's arms tighten abruptly, pulling you back into his warm embrace.
"It's so late, why are you still here Zayne?" Usually, he would be at the military headquarters by now.Â
His chin brushes against the top of your head, his voice hoarse with the sound of early morning, "Just got back, wanted to sleep a little longer with you."
You turn to look into his half-closed eyes in disbelief. The autumn sun had just risen above the horizon, casting a hint of amber light on his dark pupils.
"Feeling better?" He asks.
"Yes. Zayne, I have to get up."
"It's still early, why aren't you sleeping?"
Zayne watches as the collar of your nightgown slips half an inch down, revealing the faint red kiss mark he had left on your collarbone the night before.
You feel your breath catch, "I have an appointment with the Secretary-General of the City Hall for morning tea."
"Let him wait." He suddenly rolls over, casting you into his shadow. "Sleep a little longer. I'm going to the military headquarters."
You silently watch his back as he gets out of bed, the sunlight outlining the smooth lines of his shoulders and back, like a meticulously painted mountain ridge.
You lie in bed for a bit longer, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through your head. Exhausted but unable to sleep, you finish dressing and call for breakfast.
The table is set with your favorite home-cooked dishes, but you have no appetite and only touch your chopsticks a few times.
"Madam, careful, it's still hot." Yvonne brings over a porcelain bowl steaming with hot water, the earthy aroma of snow fungus mingling with the sweetness of loquat and rock sugar. "The General ordered the kitchen to start cooking before dawn, and it's been simmering for two hours."
"âŠ" You sigh softly to yourself.
The porcelain spoon gleams amber in the bowl. You ask someone to fetch news of the latest updates from trade ledger and border situations, glancing at the rows of numbers and inventory as routine. You shuffle the papers to see the newest military report at the bottom of your stack.Â
Sunlight streams over the headline: news of yesterday's victory, that the army led from Anlan captured the last city in the northwest territories without a fight. From hereon out, all the cities through Tong county would be under the jurisdiction of Anlan. Â
Your eyes flicker slightly in confusion. So, even before the war was over, Zayne had already left the front lines to return?
Pushing the seed of discomfort down, you call for your handmaid to get ready. You have quite a few important meetings to go to today.Â
5. Inside the Anlan Chamber of Commerce, delicate oil lamps illuminate the board meeting room, a circular table seating exactly thirteen elders of the most prominent trading groups. A harsh scoff leaves your lips as you flip listlessly through the thick stack of paper transactions in your hands.Â
Li Sheng, nephew of the current governor and owner of "Shengji Trading Company," speaks in a hoarse voice, his greasy face turning a deep purplish-red. "Is the Madam trying to cut off my livelihood?"
You close the ledger, the cover striking the sandalwood table with a dull thud, seemingly bringing this standoff to a close.
"The amount of overstated expenses over the past three years is enormous. Mr. Li should be thankful he's only being expelled."
The hall falls silent. The other eleven elders, seated in their armchairs, either sip tea or fiddle with their thumb rings, their expressions varied.
Li Sheng suddenly slams his fist on the table and stands up. "Over the years, I've served the Chamber of Commerce tirelessly; even if I haven't achieved anything, I've certainly put in the hard work!"
"Mr. Li's hard workâŠ" You open another ledger, your fingertip tracing the dense red circles, voice still calm, "âŠis it embezzling Chamber of Commerce funds to purchase a Western-style house in the west of the city and keeping more than a dozen concubines?"
Li Sheng's face instantly turns deathly pale.
You pick up your blue and white porcelain cup to take a sip of fresh longjing tea and continue, "Also, last month at the docks, you smuggled a batch of goods. That money was enough to buy 30% of the shops on East Street in the south of the city."
Gasps rise and fall in the council chamber. The elders exchange bewildered glances, their eyes filled with shock and complex emotions.
Li Sheng's purple clay teapot shatters on the floor with a crash, tea splashing everywhere. He roars, "Youâyou're slandering me! Without the support of us old businesses, how would a mere girl like you hold onto your position in this room?"
"Mr. Li," you smile lightly. "I am already saving you much face, considering your uncle is the governor of Anlan, by merely stripping your title of elder and not boycotting all your ships and goods altogether. Are you perhaps trying to involve customs and the police?"Â
Cold sweat pours down Li Sheng's neck, his gold teeth grinding together, but he couldn't utter a single word.
You put down your teacup and glance at everyone. "Gentlemen, those who agree to the expulsion, please raise your seals."
The elders exchange glances, none daring to speak out rashly.
"I agree," Rafayel, sitting on the lower left, is the first to raise his family seal.
With a representative from the Qi family, one of the most senior members of the Chamber of Commerce, having expressed his opinion, the others gradually follow suit.
Li Sheng slumps into his seat, his face ashen.
You gesture for the doorman to see the guest out, "Mr. Li, please."
The doorman steps forward, making a respectful but unyielding "please" gesture.
Li Sheng stands slowly, his steps unsteady. He reaches the door, and suddenly turns back, glaring at you with resentment.
His figure disappears outside the door, but the atmosphere inside the hall does not ease. The remaining elders bow their heads in thought, whispering among themselves, as if weighing something.
You reopen the ledger, "I urge everyone to work together and not let a few parasites ruin the foundation of the Northern trade guild."Â
Rafayel smiles lazily. "The Y/N Company is wise, we will certainly give our full support."
The other elders echo his sentiments.
6. Greyson's hand, poised to push open the door to the General's office, freezes in mid-air.
The private room, which usually filled with faint smell of jasmine, is now steeped in an invisible, chilling atmosphere. On a small round table to the side, a porcelain liquor bottle is mostly empty.
The old horseman, whom Greyson had taken upon himself to call over today, feels a chill run down his spine. In his memory, this iron-fisted superior only ever drank tea instead of alcohol, even at military victory celebrations.
What's wrong? Could it be because of his wife? He wonders to himself, unable to think of anyone else besides his wife who could make the General act so strangely.
Greyson nods slightly to him, calling out, "General Li, Old Liu has arrived."
Zayne doesn't utter a single word, simply tilting his head to indicate acknowledgement of new company, his expression unreadable.
Horseman Liu knows the General doesn't have much time for him, so he chooses his words carefully.
"The lady manages the Chamber of Commerce well; her position in the council of elders has been unopposed. The other merchant families take her seriously now⊠they used to meet in the private rooms at the grand brothel in the red light district. The lady laid down conditions before she even entered the private room that next time, she'd like to discuss business in a quieter place. The singing and dancing downstairs give her a headache."
The embers of the lantern on Zayne's desk highlight his bloodshot eyes, making the horseman swallow hard.
"The lady doesn't touch a drop of alcohol, just a cup of jasmine tea. The merchant owners all rely on her family's connections; they wouldn't be stupid enough to urge her to drink." He stares at the pattern on the carpet, his voice tense.
"And all those old smokers are also well-behaved; no one dares to light one in front of the lady. They're all holding back."
Zayne's expression remains unchanged. He leans forward slightly, calloused fingers drumming lightly on the cedar table. The General's reaction is impossible to decipher, and the horseman dares not bring up anything else. He suddenly recalls a scene from half a month agoâ
You stood on the cargo ship's deck, the river wind ruffling your plain gray shawl. The box of pastries that Rafayel had personally delivered was given to the porters' children.
You commented:Â "Let him do what he wants; I'm just happy to have some peace and quiet."
He sighs inwardly. The General's wife always knew how to act with propriety.
"The lady is always busy with the trading company's affairs. Wives of high-ranking officials have sent her countless invitations, but she simply doesn't have time to go." He straightens his back, glancing at his superior's expression, but inwardly he feels a little uneasy.
7. Last night, after escorting Madam back to the mansion, horseman Liu had a brief conversation with Greyson, who was waiting in the stables.
âThe war isnât over yet. I didnât know the General was rushing back to Anlan to see Madam today. She was originally going to return to the mansion at the usual time, but the owner of the largest perfume factory in the empire suddenly said he had time for a face-to-face meeting, so Madam had to change her plans. On the way there, Madam and the Qi family boy were discussing how to secure the cooperation. She left as soon as the deal was closed." Old Liu rambles on before stopping to catch his breath, a hint of annoyance bubbling as he looks up to see Greyson's unimpressed expression.
âWait, Greyson, are you interrogating a prisoner? Asking me so many questions.â
Greyson's gaze sharpened as he continues, âOne last question: Why hasnât Madam asked you to contact me to inquire about General Li's situation lately?â
In the past, whenever Zayne was away on military affairs, you'd worry that contacting him directly would interfere with important matters, so you would ask old Liu to contact Greyson, who travels with him. He would then report to the General and relay the situation from the border as instructed. But this time, old Liu only relayed the message that the Madam was doing well.
Greyson suspects perhaps it was your unusual behavior that prompted Zayne to readjust his battle plan, personally leading a night raid and swiftly capturing Shanwan, the third largest city in Tong county.
The supply route to Shanwan had already been cut off by the Anlan army; it was only a matter of time before they surrendered. Thus, after signing the transfer order and handing over related matters to Commander Jiang, General Li immediately set off for home.Â
"Madam said⊠she was afraid General Li would be distracted."
ââŠâ Greyson stares at him hard. âThen why did it take you so long to come back tonight?â
He couldnât help but recall Zayne's unusually cold and somber expression on the return trip.
Old Liu shrugs, âMadam said she felt dizzy and lightheaded after staying in the private room for so long, so she asked me to drive her to the docks for some fresh air. Then she went to her favorite bakery to buy some sweetsâŠâ
He suddenly stops, a dull thud sounding as he slaps the wooden fence, startling Greyson.
âWhat do you mean, Greyson? Are you doubting the Madam?â His voice, filled with anger, echoes in the empty garage.
âThatâs not what I meant!â Greyson quickly shakes his head, his tone rising in defense. âI just wanted to know if Madam is truly alright after General Li led the troops northâŠâ He pauses, his voice lowering slightly, ââŠis she really well?â
He knows very well that you are the person Zayne cared about most. Last night, when the old Liu told him that you haven't asked about Zayne's well-being because you were afraid of disturbing his work, he was immediately concerned. Was this unusual behavior hiding something?
âDonât mention itâŠyou have no idea how difficult it was for Madam to take over the Chamber of Commerce at the beginning.â Old Liu leans against the car, sighing. He looks up at the dark sky and slowly begins, âThose old bastards took advantage of their seniority, taking turns making things difficult for Madam, leaving her with countless messes. Once, they instigated a strike at the docks, and Madam dealt with it all night while running a high fever.â
As he speaks, he kicks at some gravel, the stones knocking against the iron chains, particularly jarring in the stables.
ââŠThey dared to treat Madam like that? Why havenât you mentioned it?â Greyson's voice rises, filled with anger. Zayne would be heartbroken if he knew.
âGeneral Li is at the front lines. Madam said the war is of utmost importance and she doesnât want him to have more things to worry about. She wonât let me mention anything bad, only reporting good news. Fortunately, everything was resolved later.â The horseman's expression holds helplessness mixed with admiration.
Already knowing what Greyson was going to say, he explains further, âMadam said that some things canât be settled with power and force alone; it requires people to willingly follow.â Greyson's shoes crunch on the weeds sprouting from the cracks in the ground.
âMadamâs efforts to win over the various families in the merchant guild were greatly aided by the Qi family. While its not their focus, the Qi's have been dabbling in trading for generations. The Madam isnât heartless; she canât just ignore them after theyâve supported her. But I can swear on my life, it's only a business transaction, nothing more.â
Greyson stays quiet, head bowed deep in thought.
8.  You return to your quarters after a long day, eating dinner alone as Yvonne mentions the General is still at the military headquarters, not likely returning home tonight.
Only the sound of wind rustling through the leaves could be heard in the distance. Walking through the long corridor back to your chambers, you stop for a moment to look up at the crescent moon: sharp, bright, and clear against the cloudless night sky. You force a smile from between your teeth.
This is how it is supposed to be like, you remind yourself.
Zayne was never the one for superfluous formalities. Even your wedding was not publicly announced anywhere in the capital; just a simple, solemn ceremony in front of both sets of parents, and your name added to the Li family registry.
When you first married him, you were still young, optimistic, and naive, not understanding the severity and responsibility that came with the title "Lady of Anlan".
The night your father sat with you until dawn, breaking down the different accounts, ledgers, business partners, and adversaries your family faced up north, you felt a fog lift from in front of your eyes. You had vastly underestimated the criticality of your union, as well as the danger you were being put into.
On the arduous journey up north, your handmaids complained about the harsh conditions and insufficient rest, often quarreling with Greyson or another one of Zayne's subordinates about the nerve they had to not adjust their travels plans at all for the new lady of the house. You were too sheltered, too coddled, too precious to be treated like any one of his soldiers.Â
Inside your carriage, bamboo seats were cushioned with fur and draped with layers of warm fabrics. You watch as Zayne dismounts his horse to discuss the next leg of the journey with his men. There is no time (nor place) to stop for meals in the middle of the day, with the next town to rest at still many more hours away. You silently pick at the flatbread in front of you, offering a portion of dried fruits and nuts to your handmaids. Their gasps of excitement and "thank you's" barely cross your mind.
Your "husband" has barely talked to you at all since leaving the capital. If you didn't know better, you'd think you were a piece of cargo he was instructed to bring up to Anlan.
As calls rise from outside to pick up the reins again, a harsh knock sounds on the door. Your maid opens it, and to your surprise, Greyson is outside, holding a small box of wax paper. He just about throws the package over, muttering something that sounded like "The General had this prepared for you... forgot about it" before disappearing back into the crowd.Â
Curious, you unwrap the layers of wax... to find a pile of candies. Unable to resist, you carefully try one. The flavor of honey and jasmine floods your mouth, nearly overwhelming your tastebuds with its sweetness after days of bland food. Your eyes widen, wondering where in the world Zayne got his hands on sweets since leaving the capital.
You lean out the small window, feeling the cold air brush your hair and cool your warm face. The shadow of Zayne's figure is tall and straight, marching ever steadily forward towards the north.
Your father's words ring in your ears: "I will be informing the traders guild about my relinquishment of the northern business to you, but not about your position as the General's wife. You will have enough targets on your back once you reach Anlan as a trader. I don't want you to be swept up in political turmoil."Â
After arriving in Anlan, Zayne settles you comfortably into his residence, informing all of his staff and servants of your new status. He doesn't bat an eye when you told him of your wish to join the Chamber of Commerce, even offering to keep your relationship a secret outside of the house. He leaves for the front lines barely a few weeks later.
You remember the nervousness and fear in your body as you help him fasten his armor. His large palm, while not warm, grasps your fingers tightly, almost as if wanting to comfort you.
"If you need anything," his low voice carries a hint of warmth, "don't hesitate to let me know."
The rational part of your brain finds the thought amusing, as if you'd ask anything of him while he's fighting for his life at the whims of the empire.
But the last thing he says before he leaves stuns you: "Don't wait for me. If anything happens, I've made sure that you'll be well taken-care of, whether it is here or back home."Â
You write him many letters.Â
And so, your relationship for the past nearly three years has stayed like this: You finding your footing as the only woman in the Chamber of Commerce while Zayne comes home for a few months at most out of the year. Sometimes, in the midst of your work, you momentarily forget that you're even married, but as you return to the Li residence at the end of the day, waves of longing crash into your chest, suffocating you at night until you hear the thumps of horse hooves and the distinct jingling of bells on Zayne's reins, reassuring you that your husband is safe and has come back to you.
You sigh at yourself, shaking your head as you think of your childish behaviors from before.
Your marriage was built on a strict partnership, a joining of political and economic factors. Years of living in the north showed you the grit and discipline it took to stabilize this area; yet Zayne does it with such practiced ease. If Zayne's character is what lends him the title of "Lord of Anlan," nothing less should be expected from the Lady. There is no place in your marriage for playing house; all you needed was to honor your role in securing business and protecting the trade going through Anlan, while Zayne served as its protector.
Knowing Zayne, you wouldn't have expected anything less from him on keeping his side of the deal. As for your own selfish desires, you shouldn't have dared to yearn for anything more.
While your seat at the table of elders was settled, new problems continue to arise. Li Cui, the current governor, has been imposing heavy taxes on all the civilians while his tyranny and corruption runs rampant. You knew that Li Sheng, having his uncle's support wasn't going to back down without a fight.
You're an experienced negotiator now, your time in the north having sharpened your intellect and methods. You have a nagging feeling that the disruptions at the borders may have something to do with all of this. It's a headache to process. The last thing you wanted was to get Zayne in hot waters because of the trade arguments. This was the battle you signed up to fight yourself, and you realize with a shudder that your father's words were correct: involving yourself in the trade wars with the position as the General's wife would only put yourself into even more danger, whether as a political pawn, or worse, a bargaining chip against Zayne.
Perhaps Zayne already believed that your prolonged solitude and the burden of single-handedly managing the crisis here had sown seeds of resentment, and that you gradually no longer needed him. This misunderstanding was like a fog, shrouded in unspeakable bitterness and a subtle sense of relief, making it impossible for you to discern the boundaries of your emotions. You should be grateful for his interpretation, it's better than the sudden acts of affection he's been showing, out of guilt no doubt for leaving you here. Yet your heart aches with something that feels like remorse.
Zayne's care has always been like this: silent and still like a vast glacier, yet omnipresent like the boundless earth, indulging your willfulness, supporting your ambition, allowing you to grow freely without worry. But now, it seems that this unreserved trust and tolerance has become your most insurmountable obstacle.Â
9. Before your eyes can adjust to the dim lighting of your bedchambers, a tall figure looms behind you, carrying a familiar, slightly cool scent.
Your heart skips a beat, and you softly call out, "Zayne?"
Before you can finish speaking, you spin around and bump into Zayne's arms. Your back hits the cool wall, and he holds you tightly with one arm, the other protecting the back of your head, his movements gentle yet allowing no escape.
Zayne leans down, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his 6' feet frame awkwardly curled up, as if surrendering himself completely to you.
The unfamiliar, bitter smell of alcohol mixes with the crisp scent of cedarwood and assaults your sensesâ Zayne has been drinking?!
His nose buries in the collar of your overcoat, his voice low and husky: "Headache," he mutters as his cool lips brush lightly against your carotid artery, sending a tingling sensation through you.
"Headache?" Your first instinct is to massage his temples as usual to ease his discomfort, but your hand freezes in mid-air.
"Mmm," Zayne responds softly, his disheveled bangs brushing against your neck, causing a ticklish sensation.
You finally curl your fingertips, letting your nails dig into your palms.
He suddenly releases all his pressure, pressing his entire weight onto you.
"...You're too heavy." You bend your elbows against his chest, trying to create some distance between your bodies, but he grabs both your wrists with one hand, easily lifting them above your head.
Zayne's strength isn't oppressive, but it carries an irresistible force, wanting to hold you firmly while being afraid of hurting you.
Only then do you notice he isn't wearing his military uniform, but a silk shirt. The soft, smooth fabric clings to his muscular chest, gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
To where is he expecting to go wearing that� A question arises in your mind, but it is interrupted by his next action.
Zayne's nose brushes against your brow again, his warm breath on your face. You turn your head away, your voice tinged with helplessness, "Zayne, let goâŠ" The next moment, a cool kiss lands on your lips with a nibbling force. His tongue licks away the rouge from your lips, prying open your teeth, and chasing after your tongue.
The lingering aroma of strong liquor mingles with the floral scent of your lipstick, creating an indescribable bitterness and astringency.
How much did he have to drink? You wonder, no wonder he says he has a headache.
Zayne's usual demeanor is overly stable, giving the illusion that he only ever has calm and resolute emotions. But tonight, he seems pushed to the brink of losing control by some unseen force.
You slightly open your eyes, your gaze falling on Zayne's trembling eyelashes, still immersed in the kiss. They cast soft shadows on his eyelids like fine fans.
Zayne is always restrained, rarely drinking, let alone getting drunk.
You feel a mix of emotions: nervousness, confusion, guilt, but also discomfort.
You understand that this unusual behavior stems from your overly obvious change in attitude toward him. While he may not love you, it must be jarring to see such behavior from a spouse. But this is Zayne... He was the one who proposed this arrangement in the first place; what difference would your attitude make?Â
You know Zayne too well; asking him will only result in silence.
He habitually seals all his true emotions beneath the icy depths of his eyes, like a silent iceberg, always revealing only his calmest side. He will never proactively ask why you are being cold to him. Perhaps before returning to Anlan, he can still convince himself, believing that you simply don't want to distract him on the front lines. However, your indifference upon his return makes it impossible for him to deceive himself any longer.
Once upon a time, his deliberately maintained distances, evasive glances, and cold responses were like fine needles, silently piercing your heart.
Do your actions now also cause him such torment and pain?Â
In the past, your heart would already be aching just thinking of this. But now, reason suppresses emotion, and the calm lake of your heart remains undisturbed.
You close your eyes tightly, casting aside those inappropriate thoughts.
10. The other side of your bed is cold and empty when you wake up at dawn. While a little disappointed, you understand. Even you're not quite sure how to face Zayne at the moment. To your surprise, Zayne did not go to the military quarters today. Instead, he took meetings in his study, the hallway busy with the footsteps of various messengers and commanders.Â
You don't see a glimpse of Zayne until he returns (sober this time) close to midnight, the sound of the wooden door creaking immediately waking you from a restless sleep. Figuring you weren't getting any rest anyhow, you light the candles by the bedside and take out some ledgers to read as you wait for him to wash himself.
When Zayne comes back, he sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at you. "Where do you want to go tomorrow? I'll go with you." His cool voice holds a hint of apology for waking you, like a night breeze rippling across a lake.
You look up at him, your fingertips lightly grazing the edge of a page, and reply in a hoarse voice, "I'm very busy. And the General is... someone I can't be seen with in public. What if people find out?"
When he first arrived with you in Anlan, Zayne, fearing for your safety, refused to disclose your relationship. Unexpectedly, this became your excuse, coming back to haunt him.
His cold eyes flicker slightly as he gazes at you, trying to discern from your subtle expression whether your words are a joke or genuine.
A moment later, Zayne says, "You said we'd be fine at long as we're careful."
He clearly remembers how you playfully shook his arm last autumn, trying to persuade him to go to the lantern festival with you. "Zayne, it's alright, we'll wear masks! Worst case scenario is that you're found out to have married a merchant's daughter. I don't care what they think."
But now you chuckle, a hint of wariness in your smile. He still treats you as a child! "Things are different now." You pause, then change the subject. "The military isn't without its problems, is it? I saw in the newspaper that there have been bandits causing trouble around Shanwan."
Zayne's expression hardens. "The banditry is being dealt with; there's no need to worry."
You hum in agreement, "Good. The General should focus on military affairs; don't worry about me."
"What are you looking at?" He suddenly leans in close, his low voice burning against your ear.
A spare drop of water escapes his hair, sliding down your neck and into your collar, sending a slight shiver down your spine.
Your fingertips unconsciously tighten around the edge of the document. "The documents for tomorrow's bidding meeting." You try to keep your voice steady, but a slight tremor escapes it.
"Hmm." Zayne responds briefly, his tone languid after his shower. "Have you seen the new dresses I brought for you? Do you like them?" His voice is flat, but you shudder as his breath grazes your ear.Â
"I saw them, they're very beautiful." You answer softly, your gaze fixed on the paper in front of you, but you can no longer make out the words as the light is suddenly blocked from your line of vision.
Zayne retreats from your personal space and instead moves to face you.
He looks down at you, his voice still cold and deep. "I'll go with you tomorrow." It isn't a suggestion, but a declaration.
A simple white sleeping robe hangs loosely around Zayne's waist, water droplets rolling down his bulging chest muscles, leaving glistening trails between his various cuts and scars.
You know he is referring to the bidding meeting, but at this moment, his presence is too intense, somewhat affecting your normal thinking.
"No need. You didn't go to the military headquarters today, and seeing all those commanders came to the mansion... There must be many important matters that the General needs to handle..." Your voice trails off as you notice his gaze growing colder.
Zayne suddenly leans over, kneeling before you, his long fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze.
"I said, I'll go with you."
His fingertips are cool, yet they make your body burn.
"Zayne, really, there's no need, someone will go with me tomorrow..."
Someone? Who? Rafayel?
Your next words are cut short as Zayne suddenly snatches the documents from your hands, the pages scattering on the floor like feathers. The next second, he grabs you by the nape of your neck and you're being slammed into the mattress, his burning kiss carrying a punitive undertone. Zayne's tongue pries your teeth open, conquering every soft inch, as if to unleash some unspeakable emotion.
11. How can Zayne tell you that he is insanely jealous?
Seeing Rafayel with you outside the Chamber of Commerce building his first night back, he knew deep down that what the two of you had was only professional camaraderie and nothing more. But rationalizing it was one thing, while controlling his surging jealousy was another.
Cumulatively, in the nearly 18 months he has been away from Anlan, Rafayel got to work with you almost daily. He had the luxury of seeing your focused expression as you work at your desk, hearing your soft voice discuss plans⊠It is perfectly normal for him to be attracted to your intelligence and wit. Just imagining that person perhaps tenderly draping a coat over you while you nap, gazing at your sleeping face with adoration, makes Zayne's temples throb; envy burns fiercely.
For you, he can temporarily tolerate that person approaching you under the guise of business, but his patience was already being stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment. If one day a hint of concern beyond that of a colleague flickers in your eyes when you look him, or if he dares to overstep the bounds even slightlyâ
Zayne can't guarantee how long he can maintain this façade of civilized conformity.
Actually, he should blame himself the most.
Why did he leave you alone in Anlan? If he had kept you by his side⊠Zayne can almost picture it: You reading quietly beside him while he reviews documents, precisely taking inventory while he inspects the military camp, offering your soft lips as prize upon his victorious returnâŠ
He should have disregarded everything and kept you by his side, watching over you day and night. Then he wouldn't be tormented by jealousy now, his mind wouldn't be consumed by those dark thoughts.
Today there's Rafayel Qi, but who knows if there are others secretly coveting you, or worse, people not as honorable as the Qi boy? What might happen in the future?
Zayne's eyes darken. His hand gripping the back of your neck tightens unconsciously, his kiss deepening and intensifying, almost brutally seizing your breath, as if trying to meld you into his very bones.
Sometimes, he truly wants to lock you away in the deepest recesses of the Li mansion, never letting anyone see even a glimpse of you.
When does such a crazy thought arise in someone usually so calm and composed?
He never imagined he could love someone so deeply⊠When he sees the infatuated gazes others cast upon you, those dark thoughts gnaw at him like an insidious infection. You are the most precious flower he carefully nurtured and cherished. Why can't you bloom only for him? He knows how absurd and shameful his thoughts were, but when faced with you, reason could never prevail over his emotions. You are the source of all his desires, the object of his heart's longing, and the direction he moves towards.Â
"ZayneâŠ" you gasp for breath between his lips.
Zayne regains his senses slightly and releases his grip. The turmoil within him shows no trace on his face. He simply looks at you calmly, wiping the moisture from your lips with his fingertips, his voice low and husky: "You really want the Chamber of Commerce people to go with you?"
You blink, puzzled. "The textile factory is my own business. I'll go with the old factory director and a few managers."
"..." Zayne pauses for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you. "The military won't stop functioning just because I'm gone."
The implication is clear: he will definitely be with you tomorrow.
Your lips are slightly numb. You purse them and mutter softly, "But Zayne is the backbone of Anlan... some matters can only be handled by you."
Zayne reaches out and ruffles your hair. "Anlan's military system is very sound, with a well-established emergency response mechanism. Even if something were to happen to me one day, everything will be fine." His tone is calm, as if stating a completely ordinary fact.
Your face pales at the words, and you instinctively grab his arm. "Zayne, how could you say that?! Quick, say pei pei pei to take it back!"Â
Zayne's gaze flickers. Seeing you like a frightened fawn, your wet eyes brimming with panic, a faint, wicked sense of pleasure spreads through him uncontrollably.
"Zayne, say it quickly!" Your voice trembles with urgency. "Nothing can happen to you!"
"Hmm. Pei pei pei." Zayne genuinely follows your words, a faint, tender tone at the end. His thumb gently traces your tense jawline, feeling your breathing gradually slow.
You let out a long sigh, your tense body relaxing.
"You're worried about me?" Zayne asks calmly, the glacier in his eyes already melting into spring water.
"The General is too important to Anlan" You reply quickly, your eyes darting around, avoiding his gaze. Your hand is instantly grasped by him, his rough, calloused fingertips rubbing against your delicate digits.
"And what about to you?"
The direct question makes your breath catch in your throat.
The instant you lowered your eyes, Zayne could tell that you were running away again. He knows these little gestures of yours all too well.
Never mind. He sighs softly to himself. He doesn't want to push you too hard. Silly baby. Just asking a hypothetical question, and you're almost in tears.
It's alright. He has plenty of patience to wait for you to open your heart to him again.
12. As promised, Zayne accompanies you on the way to your appointment the next day. It takes a shocking amount of coaxing and a peck on his cheek to get him to stay in the carriage instead of walking you into the hall himself.Â
Dusk approaches outside the window as your negotiations finally come to a close.Â
You answer each of the technical questions with professional and concise descriptions, subtly pursing your lips into a barely suppressed smile as you see the suppliers exchange glances and nod in satisfaction. You know your chances of winning this deal is high.Â
By the time you exit the large gates, only the last vestiges of orange-red remain on the horizon.
Under the sycamore trees, your carriage awaits.
Old Liu quickly steps forward and opens the door for you. You bend down and get in.
âWas the bidding meeting successful?â Zayneâs voice is still cold and deep, but you detect a subtle concern within it.
âIt went quite smoothly.â You lean back, tense nerves finally relaxing. âOur samples and quotes are very competitive, and the review panel seems quite satisfied.â
You glance at him, deliberately emphasizing your words. âZayne, donât interfere. I want to secure this order fair and square.â
Zayneâs expression is calm, but his tone reveals a hint of pride. âOkay. I wonât interfere.â
You gaze at the fluttering sycamore leaves outside the window, mentally calculating several details of the bidding project.
Zayne suddenly takes a document from his sleeve and hands it to you. âTake a look at this.â
You take the document, and as soon as you read the first page, you are immediately drawn to the detailed data: It lists the climate characteristics of the various military units stationed in the Eastern Military Region, the annual temperature logs and humidity variation.
Further on, there is even a comparative analysis of the wear and tear rates of different military branchesâ uniforms. Each set of data is stamped with different colored seals to distinguish key points, the organization astonishingly clear.
âZayne, whatâs thisâŠ?â You look up at him, puzzled.
âThe Eastern Military Region is about to launch a new round of bidding for military supplies and uniforms.â
Your eyes widen slightly. âAs far as I know, their supplier has always been Anlan Textile.â A renowned leading enterprise in the textile industry, backed by the full support of the capital's government.
âThis order is too big; Anlan Textile alone won't be able to handle it,â Zayne explains simply. âThe Eastern army will expand by two divisions this year.â
You hesitate, glancing at the paper in you hands. âZayne, isnât giving me this⊠against regulations?â Although you are thrilled with this opportunity, your professional ethics compel you to ask.
Zayneâs expression remains unchanged. âItâs just to let you understand the clientâs needs in advance.â He pauses, then adds, âBut you have to return it to me after you read it. This does count as confidential military intel.â
Hearing the seriousness in his tone, you canât help but chuckle. He is clearly indulging you, yet pretending to emphasize discipline. Considering your textile factory's current situation, you decide to accept the offer.
âOkay,â you reply, carefully placing the documents into your file. âThank you, Zayne."Â
âNo need to thank me for such a small matter.â Zayne closes his eyes, but you can hear the displeasure in his tone at the formalities.
ââŠIâm thanking you on behalf of the factory workers, Zayne.â
13.
A vermilion screen partitions the inner side of the private room into a secluded space in the restaurant that Zayne brings you to. He sits in the main seat, outer coat removed, revealing crisp black robes that accentuate his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the jade pendant you gifted him for your first anniversary hanging from his belt catching your eye as the only pop of color.Â
âZayne, have you ordered?â You sit down in the chair he pulls out for you.
He doesnât answer. Instead, he pours tea into the cup in front of you. Steam swirls between you, creating a hazy mist.
The freshly served Longjing shrimp are arranged exquisitely on the porcelain plate, the emerald green tea leaves contrasting beautifully with the pinkish-white shrimp, carrying the aroma of a fresh harvest.
âTry it.â Zayne scoops a full spoonful into your bowl.
You pick up a shrimp and put it in your mouth, its sweetness and freshness washing over your taste buds. âThe shrimp is very tender.â
He then places a few more of your favorite dishes on your plate.
As the meal progresses, a sudden crash of shattering porcelain erupts outside the door, followed by drunken shouts.
Your chopsticks hover for a second, your brow furrowing slightly.
Zayne remains composed, carefully placing the tenderest piece of meat from under the gills of a yellow croaker into your bowl. He then calmly says to Greyson behind the screen, âGo and see.â
Greyson responds and goes out, returning a moment later. Remembering what the horseman told him a few days ago, his face darkens considerably at the sight.
âReporting to General Li, itâs Deputy Director Xiong of the Municipal Court, drunk and trying to barge in.â He pauses, his tone hesitant. âHe says he wants the Madam-â
âLady Y/N has quite the airs!â
Greyson's report is abruptly cut off by a roar. Your wrist trembles as you nearly spill the hot tea in your cup.
âFirst you say something comes up and you canât make it, then you say you have a headache and leaveâŠÂ Iâll see what excuse you have left tonight!â
The veins in Zayne's hand slightly bulge as he holds silver chopsticks. He looks up at you, his eyes frosty. âLooks like this isnât the first time you've crossed paths."
ââŠ.â You lower your eyes, silent.
âCome here,â he says in a deep voice.
You hesitate for a moment, then stand up. Just as you reach his side, he pulls you onto his lap.
You can feel the cold from the jade pendant pressing against your lower back through your dress. You tense slightly, letting him hold you.
Footsteps approach from outside, and the crude shouts become clearer.
âLet him in,â Zayneâs voice is like ice cutting through water.
Greyson bows and withdraws.
Without guards outside the entrance, the silhouette of a large, swaying figure is quickly seen through the screen.
âEver since the Lady stepped into this restaurant, she hasnât escaped my watchful eyeâŠâ A rough, raspy voice, reeking of alcohol, echoes through the air. âSo, youâve been hiding here having an affair? Shouldnât you do me the honor of accepting a drink? This shot of baijiu should do it.â
Crashâ
The sandalwood screen is kicked over, and a fat man with a dark-red face staggers in. The belt of his fur coat has loosened, revealing a wrinkled white robe underneath. A short blade hangs askew at his hip, bouncing against his thigh with his swaying belly.
Zayne doesnât even lift his gaze. His slender fingers hold a silver spoon, carefully spreading golden crab roe onto a meatball.
You freeze, feeling the arms around your waist tighten even more, the pendant digging painfully into your sacral spine.
Someone like Deputy Director Xiong doesn't even have the rank to be in the presence of the General. Naturally, he doesn't realize that the man before him is has influence over the military, political, and business circles of the entire Northern Territories.
He stands arrogantly in the center of the private room. âHow high and mighty the newest addition to the circle of elders actsâ He glances at the you, who, after his repeated failed attempts to woo, now obediently nestles on a strangerâs lap, and sneers sarcastically, âSheâs still making money while lying in a manâs arms.â
The silver spoon suddenly strikes the edge of a porcelain plate, producing a clear clink.
Zayne lifts his eyelids, his gaze cold, but his voice as indifferent as if ordering tea.
âTeach him manners.â
Greyson, who has been waiting at the door, can no longer contain himself. He strides forward, his iron first gripping the back of Deputy Director Xiongâs collar and yanking him sharply.
The dull thud of the sheath of his long sword slamming against the back of the disruptor's knee rings out simultaneously with the thunderstorm outside the window.
Deputy Director Xiong screams and falls to the ground, the liquor bottle in his hand clattering to the floor. He trembles as he reaches for his blade, cursing, âDamn it! Do you know who I amââ
Greyson's boot grinds down on his wrist, the cold tip of his blade pressed against his neck, instantly choking the foul words in his throat.
Deputy Director Xiong, his eyes blurry with drunkenness, sizes up Zayneâs handsome face, impeccable attire, and composed demeanor, mistaking him for just a rich and powerful playboy. Contempt flashes in his eyes.
âBrother, Iâm from the Courthouseâ His fleshy face twitches, his cloudy eyes fixed on your cheek pressed against the manâs chest, grinning recklessly. âDonât let a woman ruin your reputation here, Iâll send you a few pretty girls who know how to serve you laterâŠâ
Before he can finish, Zayne slightly tilts his chin at Greyson while simultaneously raising his hand to cover your eyes, his warm palm pressing down through your eyelashes.
Smashâ!
The sound of a bottle shattering echoes through the private room.
âAhh!â Deputy Director Xiong screams, grabbing at his right hand. He collapses onto the ground before falling silent.
The smell of blood mixes with alcohol in the air. Having vaguely guessed what happened, you instinctively snuggle closer to Zayne, hearing a whisper above you.
âItâs alright.â
You blink under his palm. He thinks you are scared, patting your back gently and slowly. He's unaware that you're actually secretly wishing you could go kick the man a couple more times.
Outside, a sudden downpour pounds against the windowpane. Large raindrops pelt the glass. Hurried footsteps echo in the corridor, leather shoes tapping frantically on the marble floor.
Mayor Jiang rushes around the corner, freezing as he sees the scene, his pupils shrinking sharply. Two guards drag the unconscious Deputy Director Xiong, who lies like a tattered sack, out of the private room. His limbs slam against the floor with a dull thud, leaving a trail of blood on the carpet.
Who dares to be so audacious as to injure a municipal official like this in the city?
Seeing another man in military uniform kick the large manâs ribs twice more from the shadows of the corridor, Mayor Jiang instinctively takes a half-step back, his lower back hitting a wooden shelf holding a vase.
The clinking of porcelain startles the tall man guarding the door of the private room. When the manâs sharp gaze sweeps over, the mayor gaspsâ
It is clearly vice-commander Guan, who works alongside General Li.
At last yearâs New Yearâs gathering at the capital, this man stood a few steps behind Zayne, the scabbard on his hip gleaming coldly under the lights.
âGeneral Li, Mayor Jiang requests an audience.â
Mayor Jiang stands stiffly outside the door, watching the guards move with practiced ease. The blood-stained carpet is quickly rolled up and replaced, the screen restored to its original state. A delicate incense diffuses the stench of blood.
The private room is instantly restored to its elegant state, as if nothing has happened. Only then does Zayne release his hand from your eyes, switching to caress the back of your hand.
âEnter.â
The single command sends the mayor's knees trembling. He steps timidly into the room, only daring to confirm, upon seeing Zayne seated in the main seat, that the commander-in-chiefâwho should have been on the front lines at the border has secretly returned to the city.
Rumors have long circulated among the high-ranking officials of Anlan that Zayne had a wife whom he loves dearly. Could this be the woman he is currently protecting in his arms?
âI-I greet General Li⊠and Madam!â Mayor Jiang's forehead beads with sweat, his adamâs apple bobbing between the collar of his crisp shirt, his voice trembling. âDeputy Director Xiong lost his composure after drinking and offended you both. I apologize on his behalfâŠâ
Zayne remains silent, picking up a silk handkerchief and meticulously wiping away nonexistent stains from your fingertips. His slow, deliberate movements cause the atmosphere in the private room to plummet.
Completely ignored, the mayor grows increasingly terrified.
After a long pause, Zayne finally speaks.
âThe municipal government should give him a good sobering-up.â
This casual remark sends a chill down the spine of the mayor, who hastily bows humbly. âYes, yes, General Li!â
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shift slightly in the manâs arms, and the notoriously ruthless Zayne immediately adjusts his posture to make you more comfortable.
He suddenly understands why Deputy Director Xiong is beaten half to death. He must have had the audacity to offend Zayneâs beloved.
Wait⊠Zayneâs wifeâs face⊠seems familiarâŠ
Zayne suddenly lowers his head, his thin lips landing a kiss on your fingertips.
The unexpected intimacy makes your cheeks burn.
He looks up, asking in his usual calm voice, âHow should we handle this? Itâs up to you, Madam.â He deliberately emphasizes the word Madam.
Despite already guessing your identity, hearing Zayne confirm it personally still causes Mayor Jiang to swallow hard, a suppressed urge rising in his throat.
He vaguely remembers you speaking at the city hall as a representative of the trading guilds at the annual meeting. No wonder the Governor noted that Zayne took time out of his busy schedule to attend inconspicuously in the back; he doesnât understand then, but now it all makes sense.
âDeputy Director Xiong has been extorting protection money from vendors for a long time, driving people to their deaths. Why do all the complaint letters sent to Governor Li Cui disappear without a trace?â The helpless eyes of the vendors in the trade market flash through your mind. âPlease, Mayor Jiang, investigate this thoroughly.â
âMadam, please rest assured!â The mayor bows even lower, almost at a right angle. âWe will definitely investigate this issue to the end and give you a satisfactory explanation!â
âNot an explanation for me, but an explanation for the people of Anlan,â you correct solemnly.
âYes, yes, Madam is right!â
Zayne waves his hand casually. Mayor Jiang, as if granted a pardon, scurries several steps back before daring to turn and close the door.
The rain patters outside the window. The private room returns to silence.
You lean against Zayne, unconsciously twisting your fingers. The mayor's shocked expression still lingers in your mindâ
He must have recognized you from the Chamber of Commerce.
You have met him when you go to the city government on business; he even expressed some reservations about you, a young woman working amongst the elders. If the news leaks, the Chamber of Commerce building will likely be swarming tomorrow.
âNo need to worry.â Zayne sees right through you. His fingertips trace your cold palm, gently prying open your curled knuckles one by one, then interlocking your fingers tightly. âIf he doesnât even have this much sense...â The unfinished words stick in his throat, sharp as a blade, just like the hand around your waistâseemingly gentle, yet brooking no escape.
His cool breath suddenly brushes against your earlobe.
âBut youâŠâ Zayneâs grip on the back of your neck tightens, his voice cold and questioning. âWhich matter do you plan to begin your explanation to me?â
You stiffen like a cat being gripped by the scruff of its neck.
After a moment, you whisper, âI had old Liu find some men to beat that guy up a few times. We specifically choose times when he is drunk in dark alleys, so they canât find out⊠We donât go all outâjust to teach him a lesson.â
âDo you want me to praise your thoughtfulness?â His dark eyes hold a chill, making your throat tighten.
âThe General wasn't in Anlan thenâŠâ Your voice is barely audible, then rises again. âIt is my fault for not letting old Liu report it. If you must blame someone, Zayne, please donât punish him.â
Zayne is silent for a moment, his voice dropping even lower. âYou certainly know how to think of others.â
You lower your eyes, staring at the dark pattern on his shirt, saying nothing more. He isnât wrongâand you feel that you didn't do anything wrong either.
Zayneâs gaze is indifferent. Suddenly, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.
âSo youâre feeling wronged?â
His dark eyebrows lower, carrying a sense of impending doom.
âDo you still remember who I am to you?â
ââŠ.â Your nails dig unconsciously into your palms.
âAnswer.â Each word is emphasized heavily, as if he's issuing a command on a battlefield.
âMy⊠husband.â You murmur the two words, your voice so soft it's almost drowned out by the rain.
âSo you still remember.â The chill in Zayneâs voice sends a shiver down your spine. âSince when did you learn to treat your husband like a stranger?â
14.Â
"They're really just trivial matters... I saw no need to bother you." You lower your eyes, concealing the complex feelings behind them. "I can handle it myself."
"Trivial matters? Is a husband wanting to protect his wife considered a trivial matter?" Zayne's fingertip traces your lips, the pressure almost punishing. "What kind of horrible thing needs to happen in order for you to tell me about it?"
Seeing your silence, he presses on coldly. "Just because I'm not in Anlan, does that mean I can't make decisions for you?"
"..." Your hands crumple the fabric of your dress.
Zayne lowers his gaze to your pale lips, his brows knitting tightly, like frost weighing down pine branches.
"Or..." He suddenly releases your hand and leans back in his chair, his voice as cold as winter snow. "Is the lady going to use my words about the clear separation between politics and business to distance herself from me again?"
You clench your teeth, your chest aching with a dull pain. A turbulent undercurrent roars behind his usually indifferent gazeâclearly, Zayne is reaching his breaking point.
"Do you see me as your husband, or a stranger?" The words are uttered wistfully, a sense of helplessness creeping into his voice. "What exactly are youâ"
His voice fades as your lips suddenly cover his.
Zayne's lips are slightly cool, carrying the faint scent of tea. His body tenses faintly. Your fingertips tighten around his shirt, and you hear your own heart pounding like a drum.
You lower your eyelashes, suppressing your trembling, daring only to lightly suck on his lower lip, like holding a melting snowflake in your mouth, trying to seal away all the unresolved questions with that soft touch.
You have always felt that Zayne consistently avoids discussing the reason for your deliberate distance. But you know even more clearly that if he dares to break through that final barrier, you will be the first to crumble.
You always thought you were undeserving of the place of Zayne's wife, knowing the difference in your status. He only married you because of your family's connections, so you worked relentlessly to be useful, refusing to back down even when faced with danger. You know well that he cares deeply for you as a person, yet he was the one who deliberately kept his distance in the beginning. Now that you've finally come to understand why being the Lady of Anlan is such a dangerous position, when you finally steeled your resolve to prioritize self-preservation â for his sake as well â why is he suddenly concerned? Those secrets buried deep in your heart are like a venomous snake coiling around it. Every touch brings excruciating pain.
So Zayne, pleaseâ
You repeat it silently countless times in your heart.
Don't ask.
"Have I..." his voice wavers for a moment, his large form suddenly seeming vulnerable as he lifts his hands to your face, "angered you, my lady?"
His hand goes to wipe the thin sheen of sweat from your brow, but the moment his fingers touch your skin, he sees your eyes suddenly fill with tears.
Glistening drops roll down and land on the back of his hand, catching him off guard with their heat.
"Why are you crying all of a sudden?" His knuckles brush your cheek, touching damp warmth.
You shake your head without answering, but the tears fall even more fiercely. In the moonlight they resemble broken pearls, each one striking his heart.
Zayne steadies your back with one hand and gently strokes the back of your head with the other, drawing you closer to him.
"It's alright. I'm here." He catches a tear at the corner of your eye, the salty taste melting on his lips. His usually cold voice softens slightly. "I promise, I won't let that happen again."
You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your chin heavily on his shoulder, your nails almost digging into his flesh. Long-suppressed grievances surge out with your sobs, like a bursting spring tide soaking through his shirt.
"It's all your fault..." you murmur, voice trembling, tears warm against his shoulder.
"Mm," he responds indulgently, his palm firmly supporting the back of your neck. "It's my fault."
Your broken sobs tighten his heart. He places a hand on your back, slowly stroking your spine in comfort.
"Zayne, why⊠why did you leave?" you cry, your body trembling.
His arms around you tremble faintly as well.
These past few days, you have been so cold toward him. How much grievance has been building inside you since tonight's events that you cannot control your emotions anymore?
A heavy weight lifts from Zayne's heart. He would rather you vent like this than keep it all buried inside and ruin your health.
"Why⊠leave me⊠alone⊠here?"
Your question cuts like a dull blade, pain spreading through his chest.
He understands how many sleepless nights hide behind those tears, how the bitterness of waiting and anxiety twists your heart into piecesâburdens you should never have to bear.
"The front lines are dangerous," Zayne says calmly, his palm stroking your back even more slowly.
He longs to come back to Anlanâhow could he not want to stay with you day and night?
But the war is urgent, and fatalities are indiscriminate. Even with his confidence, he dares not risk your life, so he leaves you in Anlan.
His eyes, usually as calm as the deep sea, now surge with self-reproach, heartache, and an unyielding love.
"Don't cry, my darling."
Still lost in his emotions, Zayne suddenly lifts you gently, his Adam's apple bobbing as he whispers against your lips.
You startle, your sobs stopping abruptly as you look up through tearful eyes.
"How do you want to punish me?" Zayne presses his nose against yours, your breaths mingling. His voice is low and hoarse, almost a sigh. Your tear-streaked face, flushed nose, and lips reddened by bitingâevery detail is deadly to him.
He truly is beyond saving.
This should be the moment to comfort you gently, yet the sight of your tears stirs his heart. Soft kisses land on your trembling eyelashes.
"Whatever you want," Zayne murmurs heavily, his voice like water soaked in snow. "It's yours."
As long as you want it. As long as he has you.
But suddenly you lower your eyes and shake your head violently, resistance filling your voice.
"No⊠I don't want it."
You struggle to escape his arms as Zayne's dark eyes turn cold. His arms tighten like iron clamps, pressing you firmly against his knees. You pound against his chest, sobbing desperately.
"I don't want anything!"
That desperate rejection strikes him like a hammer blow, the veins in his neck throbbing. A thunderous roar erupts inside him. He seizes your wrist and finally forces out the question he has suppressed for so long:
"You don't even want me anymore?"
15. The air seems to freeze.
You instinctively avoid Zayne's gaze. However, just that miniscule movement sends ripples through his heart like like a pebble thrown into still water. His eyes darken instantly. His fingers clamp around your chin, forcing you to look at him. The spacious room suddenly feels suffocatingly cramped, falling into chilling silence as the rain pounding against the roof like thunder.
Zayne's gaze narrows slightly.
A simple yes-or-no answer that used to be so easy for you to say now feels like a jammed bullet lodged in your throat, and stuck in his heart. He desperately needs your answer to fill the hollow void you create inside him.
The contradiction tears at his nerves.
Until he sees your eyelashes trembling violently in the shadows. You're so close, like a butterfly drenched in rain, fragile enough to tear his heart apart.
If he asks one more question, will you shatter completely?
In the end, he gives in to you.
Zayne laughs bitterly at himself. The decisive general admired by the public is nothing more than a coward who can't even face an answer.
So be it.
He closes his eyes with quiet resignation and seals your lips with his before you can speak the words that might destroy everything. The kiss carries a heavy apology and overwhelming love, gentle to the point of reverence. His hand strokes the back of your neck, the warmth both a comfort and a silent plea.
16. Zayne carries your exhausted, sleeping form out of the carriage and back into the house. This is the first time in his life that Zayne hated his inherent taciturnity so deeply.
A sudden, indescribable tightness wells up in his heart, like fine threads binding his soul, making even breathing painful. These past few days, he has done everything in his power to temporarily set aside his demanding military duties, just to spend more time by your side, to make up for the six months he had missed.
He carefully cherished you, paying attention to every subtle change in your expression, awkwardly trying to speak tender words, desperately trying to recapture the intimacy you once shared. Sometimes, just when he feels that the distance between you has narrowed, he would helplessly realize that the invisible barrier was actually deepening, little bit little.
In the dressing mirror, Zayne's taut jawline is clearly reflected.
He knew it was bad, maybe a little twisted, but when presented with the opportunity to ask for something, anything after his years of hard-fought battles and his drive to prove himself, he couldn't stop himself from taking it; taking you, the person he's always wanted. He selfishly took you away from the warm, temperate capital to the snowy Anlan, all to himself. He wanted to keep you far, far, away from the danger at the borders, settled you and let you do your business to your heart's content. Associating too close with him would bring you unnecessary enemies, whether it be rival merchant houses or even worse, political enemies trying to use you as a bargaining chip, he reasoned. You were a strong girl, have always been. You knew how to take care of yourself and your affairs; sometimes it pained him to think it, but he knew you'd be fine, by his side or not.Â
But oh he was wrong.Â
Countless times he's asked himself, where did things go wrong? What did he overlook?Â
But he couldn't find the crux of the matter, no matter how hard he searched his memory, until he saw first-hand today what you had to endure on a regular basis.
At this moment, watching the last leaves fall off the now barren magnolia tree in the courtyard, a thought suddenly pierces his heart with a chilling coldness.
Perhaps, the reason is simple, so simple it's almost cruel.
When you loved him before, he could always see right through you⊠the undisguised expectation in your eyes when you were being affectionate, the pouting lips when you were throwing a tantrum, even your frown hinted at a desire to be coaxed.
But now he can't understand you, can't read your expressions anymore, simply because...
You're tired of the burden that came with being the Lady of Anlan. Tired of this city that traps you. Tired of him. That's all.
17. Old Liu has been waiting quietly outside the study for a long time. Hearing approaching footsteps, he immediately bows.
"General Li."
Zayne strides in calmly, his sharp profile illuminated by lamplight.
He sits behind the desk, long fingers tapping lightly on its surface.
"I want to hear every trouble my wife faced while I was away from Anlan," he says, his voice cold as ice. "Explain them one by one."
18. Old Liu begins recounting the events of the past six months.
The day you assumed full authority in the Chamber of Commerce, someone presented a brocade box containing a bloodstained dead sparrow as a "congratulatory gift."
Before a major shipment, a veteran merchant deliberately delayed the delivery under a rival company's instigation, attempting to embarrass you. On a stormy night, you personally rushed to the remote warehouse and argued fiercely until the merchant finally delivered the goods.
An elder publicly accused your accounts of fraud and tried to force you from office using guild rules. You demanded that an entire chest of account books be brought in, checking them page by page, and refuted him with razor precision until the man is purple in the face and bows in apology.
An ocean cargo ship is seized by the Navy docks for suspected contraband. You inspected every crate on the damp deck late at night. The ship is saved, but you caught a chill from the cold.
Old Liu's voice carries suppressed resentment as he recounts each scene vividly.
Zayne listens without interruption. His expression remains calm as a still lake, but darkness gathers in his eyes.
When the horseman reaches the story of dockworkers being secretly incited to strike, and you, already ill with fever, worked through the night and eventually collapsed from exhaustion, Zayne finally raises his hand.
He cannot listen any further.
"General⊠it is my fault. I did not protect Madam properly." Old Liu lowers his head. "Please punish me."
Silence fills the study.
After a long time, Zayne finally speaks.
"My wife says these matters are hers alone and have nothing to do with you."
Old Liu's throat tightens. "Madam only worries that you are exhausted from the war and does not want trivial matters disturbing your peace of mindâŠ"
The study falls silent again. Moonlight spills through the window.
Zayne slowly strokes the armrest.
"The list," he says quietly.
Old Liu immediately presents the prepared roster.
Zayne flips through it, each name and scheme reflected in his icy gaze.
Suddenly he looks up.
"Has Madam been sending someone to buy pastries from her favorite bakery recently?"
"Yes. Madam likes them very much."
Zayne closes the register calmly.
"From now on, report every single one of her movements to me immediately."
19. Later that night, Zayne opens the bedroom door.
Moonlight falls through gauze curtains, casting a pale glow onto the sleeping figure in the bed.
You lie curled up in the brocade quilt, looking like a small animal.
Zayne kneels beside the bed, silently studying your face.
You sleep uneasily, brows faintly furrowed.
His fingers hover between your brows before slowly withdrawing into a fist.
The horseman's report echoes endlessly in his mind.
For more than two hundred days, you faced the storms of business alone; attacks, doubts, conspiracies, but never retreating. Meanwhile, he commands armies thousands of miles away, yet unable to shield you from even a single falling leaf.
Guilt gnaws at him relentlessly.
He once imagined you as a rose in a greenhouse, forever protected beneath his wings. If he could, he'd even keep the snow of Anlan from ever touching your shoulders.
But he knows better.Â
The more carefully a flower is protected, the less it can endure wind and rain. So he teaches you to shoot, to fish, to survive.
He hoped to watch you grow into a tree strong enough to withstand any storm, even without him.
Yet now that you truly stand strong, you no longer cling to his post.
Back then you'd smile gently and say, "Zayne, don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll wait for you."
He believed you.
Now he realizes the truth: He is the one who forced you to become independent.
And he is also the one who forced you to swallow your pain alone.
A bitter taste rises in his throat. Perhaps⊠he has never been a good husband. You resent him. Your distance is understandable.
The night breeze stirs the curtains.
After a long time, Zayne leans down. His cool breath brushes your lips before settling into a feather-light kiss on your forehead.
Gentle. Careful. As if afraid of waking you from a fragile dream.
You may grow strong enough to soar freely someday, but he will always remain the mountain behind you, the place you can return to when your wings grow tired.
No matter how far you fly, he will wait.
His love will not change.
Not until death.
20. It's before dawn. A bluish-gray morning mist shrouds the entire Li residence in a hazy glow.
You wake up from a hazy dream. Beside you, Zayne's brows are relaxed, his long eyelashes lowered, his thin lips slightly pursed, the sharpness of the day gone, replaced by a gentle tenderness. His even breathing is exceptionally clear in the quiet bedroom, his warm breath brushing against your hair.
You instinctively wanted to curl up in his arms, but freeze the moment the thought crosses your mind. The tears from last night's breakdown still leave a burning mark on your face, a memory that sends a chill of humiliation down your spine.
You force yourself to calm down and carefully lift Zayne's arm from around your waist.
His arms are long and strong, bearing the weight of years of training, holding you close even in your sleep, as if if you were to dissolve into the morning mist the moment you let go.
A soft rustling sound comes from the bedding. You've barely moved an inch before he unconsciously pulls you back into his arms, startling you so much your heart skips a beat. Only after confirming he is still fast asleep do you dare to hold your breath and deftly pull yourself out of bed, tiptoeing out of the room.
You throw on a coat, pushing open the door, and go downstairs to the courtyard. The damp mist, carrying the chill of late autumn, seeps over your ankles. Morning dew condenses into tiny droplets on the stone steps.
You stand underneath the magnolia tree, its branches laden with red leaves. The autumn wind brushes past your ears, scattering and gathering your jumbled thoughts in waves.
In a daze, time seemed to rewind to that dusky evening two hundred and nineteen days ago: on an evening that was supposed to be like any other, you narrowly grazed past death for the first time.
You have experienced your fair share of troubles since coming to Anlan, but the precision of the thin blade that pierced through the paper covering of your office window at the municipal building, so fast and silent that none of your attendants outside the door noticed anything out of the ordinary, left you stunned. Not until it stuck to the wall behind you that your heart started thundering like a drum, your hand rising to touch the single drop of blood drawn from right above your clavicle. A single scrap of paper is attached with two characters scrawled across: 黿·± (Zayne Li). Your heart plummets into ice cold water, but you don't scream, or shout, or even call for help. You've been too careless; someone already caught on to your secret. Â
That night, the magnolias were in full bloom, the bright moonlight cascading down like a silver waterfall, coating the blossoms with a layer of crystalline snow.
Amidst the fragrance of the flowers, Zayne came up from behind, his steady frame silent as he watched the flowers by your side. The perpetual two-feet distance he keeps from you taunted your mind as you mulled over how to address the incident that happened earlier.
To your surprise, he spoke first. âTomorrow I will lead the army north.â His voice was so calm, betraying no emotion whatsoever.
You remember being surprised for a moment, your heart stopping abruptly. Moonlight filtered through the branches, flowing over the gold thread on Zayne's military uniform, casting dappled shadows on his sharply defined face. He gazed silently at you.
You wanted to ask what you should do, when he would return, to beg him to stay. A thousand words swirled between your lips, but in the end, you simply lowered your eyelashes and reached out to smooth the non-existent wrinkle on his uniform collar.
"Please take care."
Your thoughts, hesitant and brewing for so long, originally intended to be admitted all in one go, ultimately dissipated with the night breeze and the fragrance of magnolia blossoms.
On many lonely nights after Zayne left, you loved to stand here, watching the moonlight illuminate the shadows of the flowers, from lush to sparse, until the last petal fell.
Your shadow, stretched and shortened by the moonlight, mirrored the constantly weighing and struggling emotions in your heart. In the end, you made your choice.
You let out a long, pent-up sigh.
Why did you suddenly lose control of your emotions last night?
For the past six months, you were successful in single-handedly managing the Chamber of Commerce, smoothing the elders' overt and covert difficulties, avoiding the malicious probing of competitors, and withstanding even blatant harassment.
But when Zayne witnessed firsthand your embarrassing moment of being humiliated in public, all your carefully constructed walls seemed to crumble instantly.
How could you bear to question his departure? You know better than anyone that he did nothing wrong. Zayne bore the immense responsibility of protecting Anlan; every military order is tied to the safety of countless people, and he cannot allow himself to waver for personal feelings. You couldn't bear to see him torn between responsibility and affection. You thought you were understanding enough, but unexpectedly, a hidden resentment still managed to quietly sprout in your heart.
Resentful that he left you, resentful that he returned too soon, and even more resentful of yourself⊠for not being able to hide even this small grievance.
How could you not know that Zayne left you in Anlan only to protect you?
Besides, even if he wanted to take you with him, you couldn't follow him all the way to the front lines anyways, due to your duty to your family business. If you really have to blame someone, you could only blame fate.
That night, when you heard Yvonne's cheerful announcement that the General had returned early, you practically fled to your dressing room in a panic.
Reflected in the mirror was a bloodless face and slightly trembling lips. You hadn't felt so helpless in a long time. How could you face him?
You gripped the edge of the dressing table tightly, your nails scratching fine lines on the lacquered surface, like the cracks in your heart.
21. You need to find out what changed on Zayne's end. Something must have happened at the front lines that caused him to return early, starting this chain effect.
At the sound of your voice, Greyson immediately stops and turns, standing respectfully before you.
âWhat are your orders, Madam?â
A cool morning breeze drifts through the courtyard, stirring a few brittle leaves across the stone path. You pull your coat tighter around yourself. The soft cashmere brushes your palms, but it does nothing to warm your cold fingertips.
After a momentâs hesitation, you speak.
âGreyson⊠thereâs something I want to ask. Is that alright?â
âOf course, Madam.â
The question youâve been holding back slips out before anything else.
âAfter heading north⊠has Zayne been injured?â
âRest assured,â Greyson replies immediately. âGeneral Zayne has not been harmed on the battlefield.â
Your shoulders loosen at once, tension draining from your body. But as you take another breath, another question follows, rough and uncertain. âAnd the situation in Tong county⊠how is it?â
âThe enemy is cunning and resisting fiercely.â Greyson's posture remains rigid, his voice steady and solemn. âHowever, General Zayneâs strategy has given us a decisive advantage.â
âWhen will the war be over?â
âIf everything proceeds normallyâŠâ He pauses, choosing his words carefully. âBy the end of the year. At the latest, early next spring. But battlefield conditions change constantly. No one can predict the exact timing.â
The question that has haunted you for days finally escapes.
âThen⊠why did Zayne come back now?â
The wind in the courtyard suddenly feels sharp.
Greyson's expression stiffens.
22. He still remembers the day he walked into the command post carrying old Liu's mail:Â Madam is safe.
âStill no news?â the voice from behind the desk asked calmly.
ââŠNo.â
Zayne remained bent over his desk, reviewing battle reports. At the answer, he simply lifts his eyes slightly. His knuckles tap once against the paper.
His expression reveals nothing.
That nightâs operations meeting is heavy with tension.
A baton sweeps across the war map of Tong county.
When Zayne suddenly announced that the night raid will be moved up to tomorrowâand that he will personally lead the assaultâCommander Chen knocks over his teacup in shock.
âGeneral Li, please reconsider!â Chen exclaims. âTwo artillery regiments have just been stationed east of the cityâtheyâre on full alert!â
Zayneâs face remained calm.
His finger taps a single point on the map.
âFrontline scouts have located the enemy ammunition depot.â
His voice is cold.
âThis opportunity wonât last. We strike immediately.â
The plan is revised within minutes. The arrow on the map now points directly toward Shanwan's most dangerous core fortress.
Next to the primary assault mission is a single name:
Zayne.
The room falls silent.
No one dares ask why.
23. Greyson's silence tightens something in your chest.
âItâs alright,â you say with a strained smile. âIf itâs not appropriate to tell meââ
âForgive my bluntness, Madam," Greyson lowers his voice.
âGeneral Li changed the battle plan because he was worried about you.â
Your breath catches.
âHe personally led the elite unit in the night raid on Shanwan's fortress.â
 Greyson finally meets your eyes.
âThe battle was moved forward⊠by twenty days.â
24. Cold shoots up your spine. Shock, fear, and crushing guilt twist together inside your chest.
Was it your silence? Your deliberate distance? Did that drive Zayne to such a reckless decision?
You always knew he would eventually notice something was wrong, but you never imagined that his concern would weigh so heavily that he would risk his life just to return sooner.
In the end, you forced him into an impossible choice.
And he never once told you.
25. After answering the rest of your questions, Greyson salutes sharply and leaves. His boots echo against the stone path until the sound fades.
You remain standing in the courtyard.
Magnolia branches cast shifting shadows over the blue bricks beneath your feet.
You tilt your head toward the sky. Clouds swallow the moon.
Your thoughts drift back to the first time you ever saw Zayne.
He had just returned from the western campaign. A parade filled the streets in celebration of the youngest man ever promoted to general.
You remember watching him ride past in dark armor atop a warhorse.
Back then, he seemed almost unreal.
Untouchable.
Invincible.
Something more than human.
Only later did realize the truth:Â He is just a man.
A man of flesh and blood.
And somewhere in the ordinary days you spent together in Anlan, something quiet and burning grew inside him.
A love strong enough to make him cross battlefields.
Strong enough to rush into danger for you.
But you are only a merchantâs daughter.
Someone who was never meant to carry the weight of a generalâs life.
If something happens to him because of youâŠ
You would never forgive yourself.
Your fingers tighten around the hem of your coat.
And what about next time?
What will he risk for you then?
âŠIt shouldnât be like this.
Before you appeared, Zayne's life followed a steady, predictable path.
Was meeting you his lifeâs greatest gift, or its cruelest curse?
The cold deepens, and the familiar ache returns. The same ache that haunted you very lonely night after Zayne left.
It never truly disappeared.
26. Greyson's words haunt your mind. While you know you should be better than this, that you're no better than Zayne right now, a pair of ostriches' sticking their heads into the sand, you escape to work anyhow, praying (with very little expectations) that you'll be distracted enough to stop spiraling. You send old Liu and your maid home early, despite their insistence; you've got one more place to go, alone.
Arriving at the glistening entrance of the largest hotel in the red-light district, you take a deep breath as you put on a butterfly mask and step through the doors. The grand hall is lined with dozens of lanterns. You give a pseudonym to the front desk, and the attendant leads you to a quiet, private room on the seventh floor.Â
You paid a hefty amount of money for a trustworthy informant. You needed to know if there was anything else Greyson left out, and exactly how fast word has spread (if it did already) about the identity of the General's wife.Â
You breath a sigh of relief as you dismiss the hooded man. Nothing too shocking. The rebels stirring trouble are sponsored by Governer Li Cui, no doubt just itching to make Zayne's role harder. As for the identity of the General's wife... he asked for an extra 200 liang of silver for any leads onto that topic. Seems like the Mayor kept his mouth shut.Â
Two young girls enter the room, nervously asking if their "esteemed patron" would like any entertainment or accompaniment tonight.Â
You waive your hand, catching the younger one's expression drop. Feeling bad, you call for her to play the zither for you, and order some food. You'll have dinner here.Â
You nurse the tea in your hands as the music ends, its lingering notes echoing. You give the girl a generous tip, instructing to be left alone for now.Â
Finally. Some peace and quiet.Â
You sit back down, wondering why your food hadn't arrived yet, when a fine sweat suddenly breaks out on your back.
At first, it feels like just a slight damp heat, but quickly turns into a strange, itchy sensation, creeping up your spine to the back of your neck, spreading across your body with alarming speed. When you take off your coat, your silk robe is already soaked and clinging to your back. The feeling of the fabric rubbing against your skin is amplified, bringing a wave of unsettling premonition.
Your gaze falls on the almost empty drink in your glass, and it dawns on you.
You'd been drugged!
Grabbing your handbag, you bolt towards the door. But the moment you try to stand up, your legs go weak; the soft carpet feels like walking on a sponge. With each step, your temples throb and your ears ring. The corridor is eerily silent; the waiter who should have been waiting outside is nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, you hear light footsteps behind you. Is it a hallucination, or the approach of a watchful eye lurking in the shadows?
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of a dark figure moving in the shadows of a pillar. With a nauseating laugh, Li Sheng strolls out slowly. "My Lady, where are you going in such a hurry?"
His gaze, sticky like a snake's tongue, slithers over your neck, already damp with a thin layer of sweat, finally settling on your slightly heaving chest.
"Sweating so much must be uncomfortable," he says, each word dripping with malice. "I'll take you to change your clothes."
"Li Sheng! How dare you! Aren't you afraid of being exposed?" you shout, but even you could hear the bluff in your weak tone.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lady Y/N," Li Sheng's face twists into a smug smile, "this is clearly consensual!"
The lamps on the corridor walls cast hazy, indistinct glows. Your body feels heavy, as if filled with lead, every inch of your skin burning. The heat intensifies, threatening to engulf you.
You grip the wall tightly with trembling fingers, your nails leaving shallow marks on the wallpaper. You force yourself to continue speaking, "If the Director knew you're out here ruining his career for amusementâŠ"
"You think you can threaten me with my old man's future?" Li Sheng's laughter grows increasingly manic. "Don't you know who my uncle is?"
In the past, he had repeatedly hinted that he wanted the title of chairman for the Chamber of Commerce, but you had always deftly shot the idea down.
Now, seeing your flushed cheeks and dazed eyes, the prey he had long coveted was finally about to be obtained! The desire in his eyes are almost bursting forth.
You slowly retreat against the cold wall, your trembling fingers fumbling haphazardly in your bag. The moment your fingertips touch the cool metal, Zayne's deep voice echoes in your mind:
"If you ever encounter an unkind situation, just attack. No need to hold back."
You abruptly pull out the dagger he'd given you for self-defense, shouting, "Come any closer, and I'll kill you!"
Li Sheng is startled by this sudden turn of events, stumbling backwards and knocking over a vase stand. Amidst the crisp sound of shattering porcelain, he stares at your trembling wrist and your misty, unfocused eyes, licking his dry lips.
"Don't get excited. Who are you trying to scare with a little knife? Come on, I'll take you to have some fun..."
"Get lost!" Your senses are overwhelmed. Your fingers grip the handle tightly, but your vision begins to blur. In the split second your field of vision fades, you see Li Sheng's oily face suddenly contort into a familiar expression.
"Zayne...?" A murmur escapes your lips as your hand holding the dagger suddenly goes limp, the blade making a crisp sound as it falls lifelessly to the ground.
The lanterns cast an eerie light on Li Sheng's face. Seizing your momentary lapse in concentration, he lunges forward with a sinister grin, "Good little sister, let your brother pamper you..."
At the critical momentâ
"Thunkâ!" The sound of metal piercing through flesh cuts through the haze.
"Ahhhâ!" Li Sheng lets out a piercing scream, two blades bursting through the front of his thighs. He collapses to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, his legs convulsing and twitching.
The stench of blood fills the hall.
You struggle to open your leaden eyelids, your vision blurred.
At the end of the corridor, black military boots tread across the wreckage.
A tall, slender figure approaches you against the light, the gold on his belt ornaments gleaming with a chilling light. His cold, sharp features are accentuated by the interplay of light and shadow, a heavy, chilling aura surrounding him.
Only when his face, etched deep into your soul, gradually becomes clear does your anxious heart finally calmâ
It's Zayne.
He's arrived.
27. The night is thick.
The sound of the hooves of a dozen or so war horses nearly drown out the music and commotion along the roads of the red light district, screeching to a halt in front of the grand hotel.Â
The manager bows as he rushes forward, his obsequious smile freezing the moment he sees the uniform of the person in the lead.
The burning lanterns reflect Zayne's sharply defined jaw. His black cloak billows in the night wind, rustling like a dark cloud, radiating a suffocating sense of oppression.
Seeing a group of well-trained, heavily armed guards surrounding him, the manager's legs go weak as he realizes with shock that the man he had mistaken for a noble young master was actually a high-ranking military officerâ
"General Li! what brings you here..." the manager's voice trembles.
Zayne's expression is indifferent, his gaze sharp enough to cut ice. "Where is the Lady of Y/N Trading Company?"
"She's...she's in the private room on the seventh floor..." any last consideration for the protection of customer privacy immediately went out the window. The manager can't help but wonder: Is the General here for revenge, or for love?
Before he even finishes speaking, Zayne is already stepping towards the back staircase.
The numbers on the stairwell keep changing, the lights reflecting Zayne's tense jawline. In the steady sound of his footsteps, he can nearly hear his own heartbeat. He hasn't experienced this foreboding feeling, the sense of losing control in many years.Â
He pushes open the gliding door to the seventh floor, his guards rushing out from both sides, pinning down any lookouts before they could react.Â
A lewd laugh, a weak shout, and the sound of shattering porcelain pierces Zayne's eardrums. His brows furrow slightly, his right hand already on his scabbard.
His pace suddenly increases as he turns the corner, and the scene under the warm yellow wall lamp makes his blood freeze instantlyâ
You lean weakly against the wall, your sweat-dampened hair clinging to your pale cheeks. Across from you, a man in rich garments grins maliciously, about to grab your wrist.
His hands reach for his throwing daggers on autopilot, aiming, releasing.
Two loud sounds, the entire sequence of movements fluid and swift.
Zayne's face remains calm, only the bulging veins on his neck silently betraying his overwhelming rage.
Your back slides slowly down the wall, his heart tightening at the sound of your weak call, "Zayne..."
He casually tosses his sword to Greyson behind him, arriving beside you in two strides, and kneeling down to gently pull you into his arms. His eyes darken as he touches your burning forehead and unusually flushed cheeks.
It's obvious you'd been drugged.
"It's alright, I'm here." Zayne lowers his head, kissing the top of your head, his usually cold voice filled with reassurance.
"Murder! Help!" Li Sheng collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding knees and screaming. His expensive robes are soaked with cold sweat and blood, his once slick face now a pale gray.
Even as guards restrain him, the spoiled brat still dares to shout defiantly, "Youâyou dare touch me?! My uncle is the Governor of Anlan!"
Zayne lowers his gaze, the chill in his eyes like an unyielding glacier. The chilling, condescending gaze is almost tangible, its terrifying pressure making Li Sheng's chest tighten, forcing him to choke on the rest of his words .
Greyson's military boots grind against the bloody wound at just the right moment. Amid Li Sheng's screams, Zayne is already carrying you down the stairs.
The commotion alerts everyone downstairs. Private room doors open one after another, and those who curiously peek out are quickly pulled back by security guards.
The manager stands frozen, staring at the shattered porcelain and winding trails of blood on the floor. His shirt, soaked with cold sweat, cling to his back, his mind blank.
He never would have dreamed that one of his wealthy and mysterious VIPs was actually the wife of the General! And that General Li actually dared to openly stab the Governor's nephew without any regard for the consequences, all for your sake.
The sound of the convoy's harness bells ring through the night, the powerful sounds of hooves clearing a path through the streets as it speeds towards the residence of the city's best-known doctor.
Your cheeks flush a sickly red in the dim light of the carriage, fine beads of sweat trickling down your neck and into your disheveled collar. You tremble as you climbed onto Zayne's lap, the rough texture of his military outerwear brushing against your burning skin sends a shiver down your spine. Your fingertips grip the crisp collar of his robe, pulling at the creases. Zayne's breathing remains steady, his left arm encircling your waist like iron, his right hand firmly supporting your limp knees.
"So hot..." Your hazy eyelashes tremble, your hot breath spraying onto his neck, "Zayne, kiss me..."
The aphrodisiac courses through your veins like a thousand ants gnawing at your nerves, making every inch of your skin unbearably hot.
"Mmm." Zayne's adam's apple bobs slightly, a fleeting emotion flashing through his eyes. Cool, thin lips gently cover yours, like a handful of snow in a cold night.
The kiss is too brief to quell the heat within you. You instinctively follow him, your teeth brushing against his lower lip in your haste, the metallic taste spreading between your intertwined breaths. Your tongue, without warning, fiercely entwines with his.
A moment later, Zayne pulls back slightly, calmly gripping your wrist as your hands begin unraveling his military uniform.
"Stop."
Your palm slides inside his shirt, tracing the firm, undulating muscles of his chest. The next second, your lips press against his Adam's apple, your tongue lightly sweeping across the prominent curve, the warm, wet lick causing a suppressed gasp to escape his throat.
Zayne quickly leans back against the plush seat. "Sit still, listen to me." He pulls your restless hands away.
All your senses are amplified by the drug. The touch of skin against skin, the friction of the military uniform fabric, all transform into a fine electric current, coursing along your spine to every limb.
"I want Zayne..." Every nerve screams, burning reason to ashes.
You bite his collarbone, rubbing against him, your legs unconsciously twisting beneath your skirt, wrinkling his trousers in varying depths.
"Don't move," Zayne warns, his hand firmly supporting your hips, stopping your dangerous movement.
He watches you intently, a turbulent worry hidden beneath his calm eyes, his gaze frequently glancing at the street scene outside the window.
Time stretches endlessly in his anxiety.
Unable to find relief, you collapse into his arms, tears falling like pearls, splashing onto the front of his uniform, leaving dark ripples on the fabric.
"Waaah... Zaynie doesn't love me anymore..."
This tearful accusation makes Zayne stiffen. He looks down at you trembling in his arms. His embrace suddenly tightens, the force almost crushing you into his bones.
"Don't speak recklessly." His voice is cold and deep, but his fingertips gently wipe at your moist eyes, only causing more tears to burst out like a broken dam.
You sob in his arms, your burning forehead pressed against his neck, your trembling lips opening and closing, your voice filled with a wronged, pitiful tone: "But Zayne... he's never... never said he loves me."
Zayne's breath hitches.
In this world where trust is few and far between, you stood up for him time and time again, backing him with all your trust and vulnerability without reservation.
He was never the most eloquent nor outspoken person, believing that daily companionship, meticulous care, and quiet, profound protection were more powerful than a thousand words.
Only now does he realize that the love he thought was self-evident had always been shrouded in a hazy mist in your eyes.Â
In the moment, he can't discern whether this heart-wrenching accusation is the delirious rambling of someone under the influence of drugs, or a long-buried bewilderment finally being poured out from your heart. Perhaps his long-held belief that "silence speaks louder than words," his self-righteous form of protection, was precisely the thing that suspends his hard-won love above an invisible abyss.
Gently cradling your tear-streaked face, Zayne calls your name softly, finally uttering the words he's long been hiding in his heart:
"I love you."
The three words are as light as snowflakes falling on pine branches, yet the trembling tone carries a surging emotion, weighing a hundred tons.
How he longs to look into your eyes, to let you see this long-held affection.
But your eyes are blurred with tears, your consciousness shrouded in chaos, making this belated confession seem so pale.
The fire in you burns - you feel like you're dying. Your consciousness is quickly fading as a surge of emotions well up in your chest, fearful you'll never have the chance to tell him anything again. âI neverâŠwanted to leave the Generalâ
Life is short, and every second in the inferno reminds you that an accident could happen in an instant. How can you bear to keep these words hidden in your heart?
A bitter pang of guilt surges through his chest. Zayne can only hold you tighter, letting the heartache gnaw at him inside. âI know,â his clear voice piercing through the haze and night wind.
Driven completely by desire now, you indeed disregard his confession, only crying even more bitterly, "If you love me, why won't you give it to me!"
"Let's go see the doctor first, wait until you're better..."
"No, I want it now! It hurts so much, Zayne, help me..."
Zayne's military trousers beneath your skirt are already soaked through. Your trembling fingertips touch his belt, groping for the taut, burning heat through the fabric.
He forces himself to tear his eyes away from you, instead focusing on the passing road signs, estimating you'd arrive in five minutes at most.
"Hang in there, we're almost there," he says calmly, gently pressing down on your flailing hands.
"No!" you cry out, struggling even more fiercely, your nails scratching the back of his hands until they bleed. "He's rejecting me even now; Zayne definitely likes someone else, he doesn't want me anymore!"
Your uncontrollable cries pierce his ears, but the dull pain rising in his chest was even more suffocating. Zayne looks down at you, his eyes as clear as a frozen lake, reflecting your swaying figure. Since the night of your wedding back at the capital, he had promised to love you "until death do us apart". How could he betray the vow etched into his very bones?
âAbsolutely impossible.â Zayne holds your struggling wrists with one hand, gently stroking your tear-streaked cheek with the other. His thin lips lightly brush against the corner of your reddened eyes, kissing away the tears.
As your noses touch, the words he uttered are cold yet resolute: âIn this life, I have only ever loved you.â
From beginning to end, he was a clumsy loverâ Stubbornly using actions instead of words, trying to offer you the best of everything, but forgetting that words are the most direct way to convey one's feelings. You used to laugh on his shoulder, playfully complaining that his indulgence had made you increasingly spoiled and unruly.
But haven't you also been tolerating his unyielding silence and distance day after day, accommodating his reticent nature? Was there ever a moment when you felt a touch of weariness in the face of his taciturnity? He should have told you long ago that he loved you more than anything in the world.
"You're lying to me!" You abruptly turn your face away, tears streaming down your cheeks and into the corners of your lips. "Zayne just... doesn't want me anymore!"
This impromptu rebuttal pierces Zayne's heart like a needle. He grasps your chin, his thumb gently tracing your moist lips.
"Every word comes from the bottom of my heart. I've never uttered a single falsehood in front of you." The emotions surging in his chest condense into a sigh from his throat. Zayne calls you by your full name, "Y/N, I can't live without you."
How could he make you understand that you were the one who added vibrant color to his otherwise monochromatic life?
You are his most precious surprise.
His life, which had been following a set path, only became alive, colorful, and complete with your arrival. It must be the thought that you haven't done enough, wasn't been good enough, that trapped you in a quagmire of self-pity and doubt.
He's never imagined that he would repeatedly express his feelings to you in a situation like this. How much of this confession in this broken moment will you remember once you regain your senses?
Doesn't matter now.
Whether it be a hundred mistakes, a thousand mistakes, no matter what, the blame lies with him. After all, he was the one who failed to protect you, who failed to be honest with you in time.
He won't complain; he'll only be grateful that you're still by his side
28. A warm yellow flame shines in the room.
You open your eyes, your eyelashes fluttering. Your vision is still blurry when a joyful whisper reaches your ears: "Madam, you're finally awake!"
You recognize the voice to be Yvonne's despite still being somewhat dazed. Just as you try to clear your groggy thoughts, a sudden dry, burning pain wells up in your throat. Hearing your dry cough, Yvonne immediately calls for the handmaid to fetch water.
You try to sit up, supporting yourself on your arms, but before you can even process what was happening, you blurt out, "Where's Zayne?"
Old Liu comes up behind Yvonne, "General Li, he..." his lips move, doesn't finish the sentence.Â
Yvonne steps in, gently bringing a cup of warm water to your lips. "Madam, do you know how much you scared us when the General brought you home? Thank heavens you're awake, or else the General would be on the verge of changing dynasties instead simply the Governor."
A sinking feeling rises in your stomach. "How long was I out for?"
Yvonne looks at old Liu nervously, gently patting your back as she slowly says, "it's been eight days."
"What happened to Zayne?" Your heart tightens, your fingers unconsciously gripping the sheets as you ask urgently, "Where is he?"
"General Li is... he's..."
Old Liu's reaction is strange; why is he hesitating?
Anxiety courses through your veins, you couldn't wait any longer. You throw back the thin blanket and try to get out of bed, but the moment your feet touch the cold floor, your legs nearly give out, causing you to sway. "Madam, be careful!" Yvonne rushes forward, her voice filled with worry.
"If you won't tell me, I'll go find him myself!" You brush away the hand that tries to support you. Even though your legs are weak, all you wanted was to find Zayne immediately to confirm his safety.
"Madam, the General went to the Governor's residence!" Old Liu finally shouts.Â
You turn your head in shock.Â
Old Liu remembers the early hours of the morning that Zayne brought you home. He had carried you in his arms the entire time since bringing you to the doctor, now carefully setting your fully unconscious figure into bed, gently, as if putting down an ancient relic. He continued to stay by your side the entire night, only instructing that the brewing of medicine brought back was not to be stopped, and wiping away beads of sweat on your forehead from the high fever.Â
When the door finally opened, all the high ranking officials and commanding officers who had been waiting in the corridor stand up in unison.Â
Zayne walks out, his military uniform crumpled to the point of nearly being unpresentable, but his brows are furrowed with a chilling aura that drops the temperature of the hall several degrees.Â
Greyson and the others feel their throats tighten, unconsciously holding their breath.Â
"It's been a day and night. Why hasn't the Madam woken up yet?" Zayne hisses through clenched teeth.Â
Mayor Jiang's back instantly breaks out into a cold sweat. He hurriedly turns around and orders several attendants behind him, "Quick! Send notice to the imperial physician! Immediately!"Â
Taking advantage of the brief pause, Greyson cautiously takes a half step forward. "Reporting to General Li, everyone involved in yesterday's incident has been apprehended. Four different entertainment venues throughout the city have been shut down for rectification. The source of the drug used has been traced, and several suspicious channels have been identified..."
The report is concise and clear, but Zayne doesn't even lift his eyelids, his expression completely unchanged.
Just as Greyson begins to wonder if Zayne even cared about the follow-up actions, Zayne suddenly turns his head, an icy gaze falling upon the crowd.
"Only investigate the city?"
The casual question sends a chill down Greyson's spine. He quickly bows and replies, "I will immediately order a special investigation across the entire Anlan area! A detailed report will be presented to you in three days!"
Zayne's aura grows even colder. "I've only been gone for six months, and Anlan's security has deteriorated to this extent."
Mayor Jiang lowers his head even further, tripping over his words, "...I have failed in my duty."
"On the third morning when you still didn't wake up, the General led a troop of soldiers to surround the residence of Governor Li Cui... They were greeted with a fierce offense..."
Gasping, you stumble over the doorstep, tears welling up in your eyes as you make a beeline towards Zayne's quarters. You barely register Greyson standing guard outside the door and Old Liu's cry of "the Lady is here!" from behind you.
With a "whoosh," the sliding doors are abruptly pulled open and you turn your head in the dim lighting to lookâ
On the makeshift bed, Zayne leans against the headboard. His dark eyes, gazing at you, are as deep as the night, with a faint, gentle light in their depths.
Your pupils constrict, all your worry and lingering fear instantly overwhelming any reason. Ignoring the presence of the servants and subordinates outside the door, forgetting the pain in your body, you instinctively rush towards him, throwing yourself into his arms, tears streaming down your face.
Seeing this, Greyson gently closes the door behind him, leaving space for the two of you to be alone.
The sound of your weeping fills the quiet room.
29. You press your forehead tightly against Zayne's neck, the familiar scent of cedar filling your breath, but tears stream down your cheeks like broken beads, each drop landing on his collarbone, leaving a damp patch.
His arms tighten around your waist, his other hand gently resting on your trembling back. The warmth of his palm seeps through the thin fabric, stroking you softly and slowly, silently comforting you.
After a long while, your sobbing subsides.
You sniff, nose red, and slowly raise your tear-streaked face, looking at him through blurry eyes: "Zayne, do you know... I was so scared?"
He lowers his gaze, silently watching you. His olive eyes are deep and undecipherable, yet he does not immediately respond.
"What if... what if you didn't find me..." You clutch his sleeve, a lump in your throat. "What if I couldn't find you after all of this... what would I do?"
"It's all in the past." He raises his hand, his cool fingertips gently wiping away the tears from your eyes.
"You were so hasty! Going to take down the Governor?! My life isn't worth the General risking everything like this..." Your voice trembles, tears streaming down your face even more fiercely this time. "What will happen to Anlan if something happens to you?!"
As soon as you finish speaking, Zayne's face darkens.
His fingertips remain on your cheek, but his tone grows cold. "So, according to you, knowing you're being unfairly targeted and trapped, I should stand idly by, watch your ruin, become a widower, and live the rest of my life alone?"
Seeing an unprecedented surge of ferocity in his eyes, you frantically shake your head, the oppressive atmosphere around him suffocating. Grabbing his collar, you sniffle as you protest,  "No, Zayne, I didn't mean that⊠I'm just afraid, I'm afraid the sacrifices were not worth it."
In an unusually impatient manner, Zayne abruptly interrupts you. "You seem to think I will always remain calm, make judgments without a trace of personal feelings, and make the so-called right choicesâŠ"
His voice is as deep as a frozen pool: "But what if I told you, there are times when I can't?"
"âŠ" You stare at him in shock, words stuck in your throat, only letting helpless tears silently stream down your cheeks.
The meaning of "I can't" in Zayne's words is self-evident. His words precisely pierce the deepest, most hidden thought in your heart. Because he is Zayne Li, a towering, unshakeable snow-capped mountain, someone born to sit firmly on a high platform. Therefore, even if the sky were to fall, he could bear it all without flinching. You naturally assumed that no matter how great the storms of life blew, whether you were by his side or not, he could control all his emotions, slowly digest everything, and then continue on his path with composure.
But now, he gazes steadily at you, laying bare, word by word, the words he has never spoken before. When it comes to "losing you," Zayne is utterly incapable of remaining calm and composed.
His eyes lock onto your gaze without allowing you even the slightest hesitation. "If I were in danger, would you have stood by and done nothing?"
You shake your head, biting your lower lip tightly until you taste the faint metallic flavor of blood.
"In that case, why belittle yourself?" He sighs softly, a barely perceptible tenderness hidden in his voice.
His fingertips slowly cover your reddened lips, gently caressing them, forcing you to loosen your grip.
You raise a hand to wipe away your tears as you hear Zayne speak slowly, his voice low and calm. "I've said it before, even without me, Anlan's well-established military and political system is sufficient to maintain normal operations."
His tone is unwavering, revealing his usual certainty as if everything is under control, as if he had already considered everything thoroughly.
But your concerns go beyond just his reassurance.
As far as you know, no one else can protect the vast Northern Territories as firmly as Zayne, allowing the people to live and work in peace and without worries. Countless times you've prayed that there would never be a day when he would be forced to choose between Anlan and you. However, the moment Zayne rushed into the hotel without hesitation, he had already given you his answer with his actions.
Only you can melt his heart, through glaciers and towering peaks.Â
30. Your heart skips a beat as you finally understand his intentions. As the initial shock subsides, a lingering sense of melancholy rises from your understanding his desperate, all-or-nothing resolve. Previously, you had naively believed that continued indifference would eventually drive the two of you apart, leading to a natural separation. You thought time would be the best healer, capable of smoothing all wounds. You were convinced that he would gradually let go of this relationship and eventually move on to new lives.
But now, you're sure.
He will never let go of you.
Just as your heart will never let go of him.
"I'm sorry Zayne... I misspoke." Your emotions are still raw, and you hiccup, fiercely trying to wipe the tears away from your eyes. "I'll never say that again."
"It's alright." Zayne gently places his hand on the back of your head, pulling you close to his chest, letting you press against his warm embrace. "If you encounter any danger again in the future, you must discuss it with me. You're not allowed to venture into it alone, understand?"
"Yes... I understand." You look up at him, your voice muffled. "Actually, after you left Anlan, I thought about you every single day..."
The weariness is getting to you, your words becoming increasingly incoherent as you try to pour your heart to him. "No, actually, even when you were in Anlan, I thought about you every single day too..."
Zayne gazes at you intently, listening quietly to your murmurs.
"It's all my fault, Zayne, I'm so sorry..." Before you can finish, his cool fingertips gently press against your lips, stopping your words.
He calls your name softly, his voice calm and deep: "...Never say those three words to me."
How could it be your fault? It was clearly all his fault.
The night before heading north, he clearly sensed something was wrong with you, yet he didn't ask a single question. For over two hundred days and nights, he let you suffer alone.
Zayne doesn't rush to comfort you, simply raising his hand to stroke your back gently, offering silent support. He lets you pour out all the pent-up anxiety and grievances you had been suppressing into his arms.Â
âAt the hotel, when you suddenly appearedâŠâ Your voice is hoarse, âI was scared, scared that you wouldnât want me anymoreâŠâ
Before you finished speaking, the tears you had been barely holding back surged and rolled down your cheeks again.
A bitter sigh sweeps through Zayne's heart.
He's never seen you like this before.
The you he knew was innocent, carefree, and confident.
Even when you let your guard down in front of him, you've never been so completely out of control.
Zayne suddenly recalls in past, whenever he was preparing to leave Anlan, you would occasionally reveal a sorrowful expression in a hidden corner, yet you always forced a smile in front of him, secretly hiding the bitterness of separation, afraid of hurting him or adding to his worries.
A warm hand gently touches your cheek, his thumb softly tracing your tear-streaked face. His expression is soft enough to melt glass, his words slow and deep as they reach your ears: "Me too."
You're stunned, tears instantly welling in your eyes.
You understand what Zayne is referring to.Â
He, too, feared that one day, you would let go of his hand for once and for all. Feared that you would no longer need him, feared that you would walk alone into a future without him. The General who had always hidden his emotions so deeply, was revealing to you the fear and concern he had buried deep within his heart for so long.
You reach out, pressing your cheek against the palm of his hand, gently rubbing your face against his palm. "I never want to leave you again."
"Then don't" Zayne replies, a chuckle leaving his throat.
The next second, his lips gently cover yours, as soft as a cloud.
Zayne doesn't move, only letting your lips brush against his, leaving a faint, memorable scent.
He lowers his head, and a very light kiss lands on your brow, silently conveying a thousand unspoken words: Thank you for overcoming all obstacles to stay by his side. He'll make sure you never feel lonely again.
Mango baby, how are you doing?đ€
Yaiiii hihihi đ„° Lab experiments crushing me so bad this week (;ÂŽàŒàș¶ĐàŒàș¶`) but im visiting home this weekend and hoping to finally grind out my Zayne fic!
i somehow reached 500 followers and its (almost the end of) the weekend so im doing an AMA!! Literally can be about anything, or if you have LADS ideas/hcs, send them in and I will comment on those too!
Doctor!Zayne x Dentist!Reader AKA: Zayne desperately wants to be a good boy impress his dentist.Â
A/N: Y'all i've been in a slump since i posted the Caleb angst. idk has anyone else felt post-writing depression/withdraw after they finish a really long piece? Please give me some fluffy LADS headcanons & ideas to aid my recovery lmao. Anyways about this short fic: I have good friends who are in dentistry school. All I have to say for myself is I'm sorry.Â
How does Zayne keep his teeth so clean???
Is the question every single person that has observed Zayne for any extended periods of time wonders at some point in their lives. The number one cardiac surgeon at AKSO Hospital is infamous for his sweet tooth, with a critical inability to say no to sweet treats and sugary drinks. But coworkers around him know that he walks around with a portable toothbrush kit in his white coat pocket, that he flosses and brushes after every snack and meal. Apart from one sweet coffee in the morning, he doesn't drink milk teas too often, or anything else that can stain his teeth. The man owns a water flosser at home, and meticulously uses an electric toothbrush every morning and night as well. Now, how did he develop such admirable habits?
The answer, in reality, is that he didn't always have such self-discipline. Growing up, he got his fair share of cavities, especially during his time with braces, when he'd sneak candies despite knowing the pain it took to clean from between the metal bars. Even after graduating medical school and securing his first full time doctor job, he's had to get two fillings, much to the disappointment of his dentist.Â
Speaking of his dentist. His family went to the same one every year since he was a baby. AKSO Smile Clinic, a small, private dentistry office run by the nicest old man who had cleaned his parents' teeth since their youth. Something about the old faded wallpaper and classical music playing in the waiting room combined with the smell of antiseptics and mouthwash is very nostalgic for Zayne, who also still doesn't hesitate to (secretly) take a lollipop from the children's "treasure box" after his visits.Â
He misses his appointment one year for his expedition to the Arctic. When he finds time to reschedule it 6 months later, the old dentist he's seen for his entire life is nowhere to be found. Instead, he sees you.Â
The old man finally decided to retire, moving south to spend his time with his children and grandkids. You were once a student of his, his favorite, and he had asked if you would like to take over the clinic and his patients once he's gone. Of course, you agree.
Zayne is comfortably seated in the chair, the hygienist having already draped him and prepped the instruments. The moment he looks aside to see you walk through the door, hair pulled back expertly under a scrub cap, mask precisely fitted (with knots securing it to your loupes so it doesn't pull at the back of your ears), leaving only your beautiful, shining eyes that crinkle as you pull out his chart and say, "Hello Mr. Li! We haven't met before. I'm Dr. Y/N, your dentist from now on," he knew he was fucked.Â
To be honest, you were a little surprised when you first see Zayne. You didn't exactly look at his documents before he came in for a routine cleaning, but you've heard your mentor talk about this "boy" before, how he's been coming here since he was just a "wee lad". You were honestly expecting someone much younger based on how much your mentor mentioned his love for sweets, so when you saw a whole grown (definitely employed by his business casual clothes) 6'2 man sitting obediently in the chair, shocked was the calmest emotion you could describe yourself with. You've never been so glad that masking is the usual in your field, as your mouth would otherwise be hanging open. Possibly even drooling.Â
You don't like to brag, but your mentor had never failed to let you know that you were his protégé. But you were really fighting for your life as you routinely examine, floss, and clean Zayne's teeth, hands not trembling only due to hundreds of hours of practice and muscle memory. Good god, you could get lost in his eyes - you have to force yourself to keep your gaze on his teeth. The way he acts so obediently as you ask him to open wide, stick his tongue out, close his mouth around the suction, you're momentarily distracted by his pretty lips around the yankauer suction tip - holy shit, you never thought you'd be getting questionable thoughts about your work!!  You don't realize how much your brows were furrowed in concentration or the tension in your shoulders until you finally sit back and hand him a small cup of water to rinse everything down.
"And spit"
You nearly pass away on the spot as you feel his eyes burn a hole in you as he does exactly that.Â
You stammer out a "I-I'll grab you a goody bag" as you stumble on your momentary escape from the dangerous man, the room feeling waaaay too hot and stuffy for some reason, despite it being mid-Spring.Â
You compose yourself and return with the typical handouts and dental hygiene kit, explaining to him your observations.
"You do a decent job brushing, though I would recommend more consistent flossing. The central and mesiobuccal grooves on your bottom left molars seem to be naturally a bit deeper than most, which makes them a little more prone to cavity formation. I'd watch out and take extra care while brushing those."Â
You take a deep breath before looking up at him again.Â
"Any questions? Would you like to schedule your next appointment with our receptionist at the front desk?"Â
He's silent for a moment too long and you feel more panicked in front of this patient than you were during your practical exams in dentistry school.Â
"My insurance covers two visits a year, right?"Â
From then on, Zayne comes every 6 months like clockwork. You learn to your surprise that he is a doctor, a cardiac surgeon, though you can definitely see him all scrubbed up, face stern as he presides over the operating room. Due to his work, he is usually your last patient of the night, sometimes looking a little frazzled as he rushes to your dentistry office from work. You insist that it's fine, he should always prioritize his own duties! You were happy to stay a little overtime, it's not like you have any plans afterwards anyways (and definitely not because the other hygienists and receptionist would be off work and it'll just be you and Zayne alone in the clinic).Â
His dental hygiene improves drastically, developing wonderful habits and is the epitome of a perfect patient. You once meekly mention he probably doesn't need a cleaning every 6 months based off of how well he takes care of his teeth and you swear he stiffens for a second, looking like deer in headlights, before pushing up his glasses and retorting, "No, I still need someone to hold me accountable," as he looks away. "Your praise flatters me, but I prefer it when you tell me what to do."
You stammer in agreement (how were you supposed to reply to that??), also unable to look at him as you feel your face flush.
Little do you know that there is a light blush on Zayne's cheeks as he said those words as well.Â
He helps you clean up and close shop as always, despite your repeated insistence that he didn't have to do so. He waits for you to lock the front doors.
"I'm sorry for always keeping you at work so late."Â
"Oh, no, please!" You wave your hands, "It's nothing. You have patients' lives to look after. I'm more than happy to wait for you." You internally cringe as the words come out of your mouth.
Zayne contemplates as he walks with you to the parking lot. Before you reach your car, he suddenly places a hand on your arm that reaches for the car door.Â
"You said you don't have any other plans today, right?"Â
It's your turn to look like a deer in headlights.
"Y-yeah. I mean, no! No, I don't!"Â
Zayne takes a deep breath.Â
"As a thank you for always waiting for me, can I take you out for dinner?"
Iâm just wondering. Is there a reason that some of the letters in your Zayne fic are randomly bigger in font?
yes, because tumblr formatting is a bitch
No, that's completely unintended (℠Ꭰâ„) I've tried to fix it so many times but it doesn't seem to want to resolve itself no matter how much I try.
Ugh I canât get over how fucked il Caleb is. The fact that literally everyone wanted her and heâs like âwow sheâs so lucky to have meâ đ€Ą
(He lowkey was reminding me of mincheol from tears of a withered flower đđđ)
Omg I heard so much about Tears of a Withered Flower but was too scared to read it for this exact reason; but yes asshole moves all around đ€Ą
