The forest at dawn was quiet, hushed like a secret. Shen Li's arrows cut through the stillness with precise rhythm, each strike embedding into the bark of a worn tree trunk. His movements were swift, practiced—so natural it was as if the bow had been a part of his body since birth.
Xu Ming leaned against a tree not far off, arms crossed, watching. He had insisted on following Shen Li that morning, stubborn despite the hunter's silence. Shen Li had neither invited nor forbidden him. He simply walked into the woods, and Xu Ming followed.
"You really don't waste words, do you?" Xu Ming finally broke the silence, his voice carrying lightly across the clearing. "How did you even grow up like this? Don't you have family who'd scold you for being this tight-lipped?"
Shen Li's arrow sank into the center of the trunk with a soft thunk. He lowered his bow but didn't immediately answer. His sharp profile was unreadable in the slant of the morning sun.
"Family," Shen Li said at last, voice low, "is not always a blessing."
Xu Ming blinked. The words hung in the air, heavier than he'd expected. He stepped closer, curiosity tugging at him. "So, you do have one. Or had one?"
The hunter's jaw tightened slightly. He set down his bow, gazing past the trees as if looking into memories carved deep.
"My father was a soldier," Shen Li began, his tone flat, though something sharp lurked beneath. "A man of steel, never home for long. When he returned, his hands carried calluses from the sword, his voice carried orders, not affection."
Xu Ming tilted his head, listening closely. He could tell Shen Li didn't often speak of this—it was like drawing words from a locked chest.
"And your mother?" Xu Ming asked softly.
A faint shadow passed through Shen Li's eyes. "She died when I was young. I barely remember her face. Only the scent of herbs and the sound of her singing. After she was gone, the house turned cold."
Xu Ming's chest tightened. He'd never had much warmth in his own family either, but hearing this… He studied the man in front of him—stoic, solitary, carrying his life like a shield.
"So it was just you and your father?" Xu Ming pressed.
Shen Li's lips curled into something like a bitter smile. "Not for long. He remarried. His new wife had children of her own. And in her eyes, I was nothing but a shadow in the corner, a mouth too many to feed. My father… looked the other way."
Xu Ming's fists clenched at his sides. He didn't need more detail—he knew the type all too well. Neglect. Cold shoulders. The kind of cruelty that wasn't always in blows but in absence, in choosing not to see.
"So you left." Xu Ming guessed.
Shen Li nodded once. "When I was old enough, I chose the mountains. Hunting gave me freedom, silence, and no debts owed to anyone." His gaze flickered toward Xu Ming, unreadable. "Until they forced marriage on me. Until you."
Xu Ming bristled, though his lips quirked with dry humor. "You make it sound like I'm shackles."
Shen Li didn't deny it, but his gaze lingered longer than usual, as though he were reassessing.
Xu Ming laughed lightly, though his heart felt heavier. "Well, looks like both of us had lousy families. Maybe we're not so different, hunter."
They walked back to the house in silence after that, but something had shifted—a thin thread woven between them, fragile yet undeniable.
The village, meanwhile, was restless.
Whispers had spread since Madam Wang's failed attempt to snatch food. She had not taken humiliation kindly. With her sharp tongue and endless spite, she began sowing poison among the neighbors.
"They say Liu Ziyu bewitched the hunter," Madam Wang muttered loudly at the well, her voice dripping with false sorrow. "Poor Shen Li, tricked into keeping such a disgraceful ger. I heard he even dared to talk back to his elders! What kind of son behaves so?"
The women gasped, fanning the flames. By the time Xu Ming passed through the market days later, he could feel the eyes on him—curious, suspicious, mocking.
He raised his chin and ignored them. If there was one thing transmigration had given him, it was the chance to stop caring about gossip. Still, he didn't miss the way Shen Li's expression darkened when he noticed too.
That evening, as Xu Ming was chopping vegetables, Shen Li finally spoke. "Do not go to the village alone. Wang will not stop."
Xu Ming set down the knife, arching a brow. "Oh? And what will you do about it? Glare them into silence?"
Shen Li's lips pressed thin. He didn't answer immediately, but Xu Ming noticed his grip tighten on the bow he was restringing.
Something about it made warmth creep into Xu Ming's chest. This man, for all his silence, cared in his own way.
Days later, conflict came knocking again—this time not from Madam Wang, but from Shen Li's estranged relatives.
It was afternoon when a group of strangers approached the house. At their head was a tall, broad-shouldered man with sharp features and a soldier's bearing. His hair was streaked with gray, his presence commanding.
Xu Ming blinked. Even before the man spoke, he knew. This had to be Shen Li's father.
"Shen Li!" the man barked, voice like a whip. "So this is where you've been hiding. You disgrace your bloodline—refusing duty, refusing family, and now you hide away in the mountains with a useless ger?"
Xu Ming stiffened, fury flaring instantly. He opened his mouth to retort, but Shen Li raised a hand—calm, steady. His dark eyes locked onto his father's.
"I owe you nothing," Shen Li said coldly. "You lost the right to call me son when you abandoned me."
The words struck the air like thunder.
Xu Ming's heart pounded. He glanced at Shen Li—this man, who rarely revealed even a flicker of emotion, now stood like an unmovable stone, defying the man who had shaped his childhood.
The father sneered. "Insolent brat. You think the mountains can shield you? Blood is blood. You will come when I call."
"No," Shen Li replied simply. His voice did not waver. "My life is mine. My home is here."
Xu Ming's breath caught. Home… here? With me?
For the first time, he saw Shen Li not as a silent hunter bound by circumstance, but as a man choosing—choosing freedom, choosing to break chains, choosing him.
The father's face twisted in rage. "You shame your ancestors. Fine—wallow here with your ger. Do not come crawling back when the world spits you out."
He turned sharply, storming off with his men. Dust settled in their wake, the silence ringing louder than their words.
Xu Ming swallowed hard. Slowly, he touched Shen Li's sleeve. "That… was your father?"
Shen Li's jaw was set, but his eyes softened fractionally at Xu Ming's touch. "Yes. And now, nothing more."
Xu Ming's chest ached, but pride swelled there too. This man was strong, stronger than anyone he had ever known—not because he fought with fists, but because he dared to cut ties with the chains that bound him.
Xu Ming smiled faintly. "Then I guess it's just us against the world, hm?"
Shen Li glanced at him. For once, something almost like a smile tugged at his lips.
"En."
And for Xu Ming, that was enough.
That night, as the crickets sang and the moon poured silver across the roof beams, Xu Ming lay awake, thinking.
He had come into this world unwilling, bound to a stranger through marriage. Yet day by day, the threads tangled tighter. Shen Li, with his silence and his strength, was no longer just a stranger.
He was becoming something else.
Something Xu Ming wasn't ready to name yet—but something that made his heart beat faster in the quiet of the night.