"And why do you have to see my wedding first, huh? You're old enough too!"
Lànhuā asked curiously, her voice a little gruff, a little fond. She sat quietly as Xio fixed the back of her hair with careful hands, fingers threading gently through the strands like a lullaby.
"Ah, um… I'm not that beautiful and—"
Xio tried to reason, but she cut him off before he could even finish.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up! That's a lie, and you know it. Just go outside and see the whole line of girls running behind you! But no—you, a night bat, only roam around at night with your eyes tucked into your robe. How would you even see them, huh?!"
Xio smirked, unfazed. He was ready for this reply.
"Those girls? They're not my type. Cheap. Shameless. Running after me like I'm free food. I can't marry any of them."
"Oh, so Dao Xio loves expensive women, huh? Want me to find one for you?"
She teased, poking his cheek while smiling at the mirror.
Xio leaned into her finger with a soft pout, boyish and ridiculous, full of comfort that only someone like her ever got to see.
"No, no. I should say that to you. You're older—you should prepare for your marriage. Otherwise, I'll find you a husband myself."
He bumped her shoulder lightly. She leaned forward from the nudge, giggling softly and turning her face to hide the tint of red creeping up her cheeks.
"Cheeky brat," she muttered.
Then Xio opened a drawer and took something out, small and silver.
"Hey, what's that?"
"Shh, wait…"
He carefully placed it in her hair—a hairpin, simple but elegant. A blue-white butterfly perched at its top, wings soft like porcelain...he brought it for her .
When he stepped back, he crossed his arms with pride.
"Done. See? I told you—I'm amazing at hair too!"
She turned to the mirror, surprised.
"You really are…" she murmured in disbelief. "When did you even learn this? Practicing for your wife, huh?"
He growled like a kitten and leaned in, biting her shoulder gently.
"Ah! Don't bite, snake! You'll get a snake wife if you act like this!"
She cried out, pushing his head away while laughing. But he didn't pull back right away. His forehead stayed against her shoulder, lingering. The sound of her heartbeat calmed him more than he realized.
For a moment, his mind flashed—two sharp bites on his own neck. Kirihito. Demanding. Angry. Intimate and cute in a twisted way. His hands curled, then relaxed. He shook the thought away...atlist for now .
"I'm too tiny for marriage anyway… I don't want to grow old before I carry your children in my—"
"S-SHUT UP!"
She yanked his hair with a scolding glare, cheeks flushing red. He cracked up laughing.
"I haven't even been close to marriage, and you already gave me kids?!"
"Oh yes, because I'll be their only uncle! You have to get married! I wanna see what your babies look like!"
He grinned wide, pinching her cheeks until she puffed them like a fish, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. They both burst into giggles like children under a summer sky.
Finally, she handed him a chocolate from her sleeve.
He snatched it instantly and stepped back a little, unwrapping it like it was some kind of treasure.
"Gotcha! Told you! You can't resist my charm. You love me too much!"
She wiped her eyes, tears glimmering from laughing too hard.
"You're getting more mischievous every day… and how are you even still talking? You didn't sleep or eat. Just Huan's training is enough to knock someone out. If you faint—I'll faint too!"
Xio chuckled, letting the chocolate melt slowly on his tongue. His lips had a little chocolate on them, but he didn't care. He looked up.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
Her smile faded into something gentler, quieter.
And in that shared reflection, she saw what she'd always known was buried in his heart. Something not just protective—but anchoring. A feeling too deep for words. A promise. A clinging root in storm soil.
She had her father's gift: she could read a soul from its eyes.
"I'm fine…"
He said, voice quieter now.
"As long as you're beside me, sis."
Her hand slowly reached out to rest over his. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.
Because for orphans who grew up piecing together new families with threadbare love, this bond was already everything.