—
Ling Xi walked fast, expression remained cold, carved from ice.
—
His long black hair kept falling over his eyes, brushing against the dried blood on his cheek.
The strands stuck slightly to the sweat at his temples, and every time they fell forward he flicked them away with a rough, impatient shake of his head.
Dust clung stubbornly to his robe, forming a dull layer over the fine embroidery of the Celestial Palace.
The dried blood—his or someone else's —had turned a dark rusty brown against the pale fabric.
It irritated him more than it should have.
—
He hated the feeling of being dirty.
He hated looking… disordered.
He hated even more the reason he was in this state.
That Queen woman, once he —
—
He brushed it aside with irritation, letting out a slow exhale that felt more like a growl.
That girl.
Her blue eyes flashed through his mind again—cold yet trembling, confused yet stubborn.
The faint tremble of her lips.
The way she'd looked at him as if she were trying so hard not to cry.
Ling Xi pressed two fingers against his temple and forced his eyes forward.
—
Ling Xi pressed harder on his temple.
Why was he remembering her expression?
Why was he—
No.
It wasn't important.
If it wasn't because he didn't want—
—
He clicked his tongue sharply and kept walking.
A few more steps.
Then he halted.
Completely.
"…Perfect. Very perfect."
His voice was low, bitter.
How could he forget?
He cut off the thought violently, jaw clenching.
—
How—
How could he have forgotten something so basic?
He didn't have a horse.
—
He had abandoned the animal when the battle broke out.
And with it, gone were all his supplies—his water pouch, spare robe, medicine, food, even basic bandages.
Everything.
He stared at the empty path ahead—silent, endless, stretching into mountains that looked farther and farther.
—
"…Perfect," he repeated, breath shaking with annoyance.
The forest wind blew his hair again.
—
Where was he supposed to go now?
He left because—
Because—
His chest tightened.
Because he didn't want her to—
He stopped that thought before it formed.
—
He exhaled sharply, rubbing the center of his brow with his thumb.
—
He had two options now:
One: walk three full days, through mountain terrain, back to his kingdom until his legs snapped—
Starving.
Bleeding.
Exhausted.
Two: walk back to that girl's house… and… deal with whatever came next.
He stared up at the sky.
At the clouds.
At the irony.
"…Flying," he muttered bitterly. "Why couldn't my power be flying?"
—
He wished—truly wished—that his power allowed him to fly.
But no.
Heaven—
—
When her small home finally came into view, Ling Xi stopped at the top of the pathway.
Then—unexpectedly—
he smirked.
Just imagining her reaction made something strange flicker in his chest.
—
He imagined her face when she saw him.
The shock.
The confusion.
—
He didn't know.
He didn't understand her.
And he didn't understand why, when she had told him not to leave, her voice…
had trembled.
Why had she said that?
He wasn't someone anyone wanted near them.
—
Unless—
He pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose.
No.
Enough.
He walked back to her house and sat at the entrance, sword laid beside him, waiting.
The lake breeze carried a faint scent of lotus and warm soil.
For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps—coming from the lake's edge.
He lifted his head.
She stood there.
Frozen.
Staring at him as if her brain could not process the image.
—
Then she jolted.
Ran toward him.
Her hair fluttered behind her like silver ribbons, her clothes brushing the grass.
She stopped right in front of him, breathless, eyes bright and confused.
"W–what are you doing here? Didn't you leave?" Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Ling Xi looked up at her lazily. "I don't have a horse."
—
Mù Xuán blinked.
"Oh."
She tilted her head.
"Oh…"
Then her eyes widened—glowed, almost.
"So… what will you do now? Are you going to stay here?"
Ling Xi hesitated.
A long second.
Then another.
"…Yes."
—
Mù Xuán beamed.
Her entire face lit up like a child seeing lanterns for the first time — like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Ling Xi didn't know why he felt… something… stirring in his chest as he looked at her face.
The feeling was unfamiliar.
Annoying.
She had lived alone for years.
Her only companion was the dragon who slept beneath the lake.
The villagers only saw her as the quiet girl who came to the market once a week.
Someone staying… meant more to her than she let on.
—
Her joy was so pure it felt almost… dangerous.
"I'll cook!" she said immediately, already rushing toward the house.
"No. I'm—"
—
Ling Xi blinked.
She didn't even wait for his reply.
Something warm—unfamiliar—tugged at his chest.
He looked away sharply.
—
Inside, Mù Xuán rummaged through the kitchen—only to freeze.
She had released the chicken.
Her eye twitched.
"…What do I make now?" she whispered to the empty air.
After a moment of despair, she slapped her cheeks lightly.
"Spirit herb noodles! Yes! Mushrooms, firepipper oil, greens—easy!"
She rushed outside.
—
Ling Xi was still sitting there, legs stretched out, sword leaning against his shoulder.
Mù Xuán stood in front of him, staring.
Ling Xi looked up at her with one eyebrow raised. "What now?"
"I think… I'm dreaming."
He exhaled slowly.
She really was…
Strange.
—
Then she planted her hands on her waist. "I'm going to get mushrooms. Want to come with me?"
Ling Xi smirked faintly.
"Fine."
He rose smoothly.
His sword clinked softly against the stone steps as he walked down after her.
—
As he walked down the wooden steps, Mù Xuán eyed the weapon.
"You can leave the sword inside. It must be heavy…"
He ignored her completely.
She shut her mouth.
—
The path along the lake was soft, mossy in places, sprinkled with wildflowers.
The water shimmered with broken reflections of the sky.
After a while, Ling Xi spoke.
"You live here alone?"
"Yes," she said brightly. "With Zhù Yuan."
"…No other person?"
"No."
—
Ling Xi's chest pulled tight—unexpectedly, sharply—like someone had tied a thread around his heart and yanked.
Why?
He didn't know.
Didn't want to know.
—
He brushed the feeling away.
"What about your… dragon," he asked slowly. "Zhù Yuan. He sleeps all the time?"
Mù Xuán shook her head. "No. Only unless I call him. Sometimes he takes me flying at night. Do you want to ride him? He's gentle."
—
Ling Xi almost choked.
A dragon.
Gentle.
Right.
Only this girl would think such nonsense.
Only she would sleep safely beside a legendary beast.
But a thought slid through his mind.
—
He turned to her.
"What is your name?"
"Mù Xuán," she said. "Why?"
He narrowed his eyes.
So she really was from the Mù Family.
The 'Favourite' Dragon Guardians.
Protectors of ancient bloodlines.
"Why do you live here alone?" he asked.
—
She stiffened.
Her footsteps slowed.
Looked down.
Fingers curling around her sleeve.
Silence wrapped around them like cold mist.
Ling Xi almost told her to forget it—but before he could speak, she murmured:
"My mother told me… never to leave. And I… I don't want to leave Zhù Yuan alone."
Her voice was small.
Quiet.
A little cracked.
—
Ling Xi almost asked about her parents.
Almost.
But he bit the inside of his cheek until the question faded from his tongue.
He looked at her back—narrow, delicate.
She looked… pitiful.
Lonely.
—
But then he scoffed internally.
Lonely?
Pitiful?
This "pitiful" girl had frozen two men into shimmering ice statues without blinking.
She was not harmless.
They reached a clearing—small, surrounded by tall spirit trees whose leaves glowed faintly with silver veins.
Mù Xuán bent down to part a patch of bushes—
—
And Ling Xi froze.
His entire body tensed.
Eyes widened.
Breath stopped.
The scene before him—