"We should… call the kids too."
Língxi spoke gently, his royal blue eyes gazing toward the stairs, their light dim with a distant thought. The grand feast laid before him remained untouched. The bowls, shaped from black porcelain laced in golden trim, shimmered under the lantern light. The wine cups—crafted from pure gold and embedded with black pearls—sat unused.
Despite the lavish setting, nothing seemed appetizing without his daughter, or without Xio.
To Língxi, Xio was more than just a young disciple. He had always seen him as a son—partly because he had no child of his own, and partly because Xio was the step-nephew of his best friend. Yet, the boy had a quiet light that was uniquely his.
"They're probably… talking," Kage Ou replied, trying to sound casual. "Lànhuā might still be tending to Xio. They'll eat when they're ready."
He leaned back with a faint grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. His fingers absently tapped the table—his appetite equally lost. In truth, he had hoped for a quiet evening with Língxi, a rare moment alone between lifelong friends.
"I can't eat without them," Língxi murmured, his voice low but firm. "It's like trying to swallow saltless soup without water."
His expression softened with that empty calm that always made Kage Ou uneasy—like a fragile doll trying to hold in its cracks. Just as Kage Ou opened his mouth to insist, Língxi gently stood from his seat.
Kage Ou's hand twitched toward him, hesitated, then lowered with a soft thud against the table.
"…They're taking too long," Língxi said more to himself. "And Xio's injured. He needs to eat on time…"
Kage Ou watched the way his friend moved. That same slow grace, careful and light-footed—like he might shatter if he walked too fast.
"Still walks like he'll break," Kage Ou muttered under his breath. "Even now. I've never seen him run… can he even run?"
Língxi's blue-and-white robe rustled softly as he ascended the stairs, long white hair gently trailing behind him like silken threads.
Upstairs, the air was warm with gentle laughter.
Lànhuā sat behind Xio, combing his silver hair with soft strokes. His head was tilted up lazily, gray eyes closed in contentment. Their voices drifted in teasing, quiet tones—between playfulness and soft vulnerability.
"...Sis," Xio whispered.
"Mm?" she replied, brushing through a knot delicately.
"Maybe Uncle doesn't want you to marry because he's scared of losing you. Haven't you noticed? You're already older, and he hasn't even mentioned arranging any matches…"
"Marriage again, Xio?" she groaned softly, stifling a smile.
"Of course. It's unfair for you to grow old without a king beside you… or a little prince to spoil. I want to be the fun uncle."
She chuckled under her breath. "It's not that simple… he wants someone perfect for me. Someone who can read me with just a look. Like him. And that's hard to find."
"So… overprotective father, I see," Xio teased. "But be honest—do you even like that kind of guy?"
Lànhuā paused. Her brush halted midway. Her eyes flicked to the mirror in thought.
"I'll be fine with whoever he chooses," she finally replied.
Xio smirked without looking. "That was a very late answer."
She didn't respond. Her hand hovered midair, betraying the secret in her silence.
"Who is it?" Xio murmured slyly. "Will he get mad if he finds out?"
But before she could reply, the door creaked open.
Both of them straightened instantly—like nothing had happened. There was nothing romantic between them, only the carefree affection of childhood friends… but still, both were high-standing 2nd Dao of their clans. Appearances mattered.
Língxi stood at the door, his gentle gaze sweeping over them.
Xio quickly stood to bow, black sleeves cascading like falling petals.
"Good morning, Uncle Língxi. I apologize for not greeting you earlier."
But Língxi gently caught his shoulders, stopping the bow with a soft smile.
"No need. Not while you're still healing."
His eyes moved to Xio's injured arm with concern.
"At least for now… the formalities can wait."
Then he glanced between both of them.
"Come down soon. We're waiting to have a meal together."
Xio hesitated for a moment, then smiled weakly.
"You could've eaten already, Uncle. We were just… talking. Besides, Uncle Kage Ou's been wanting some time alone with you."
Xio tried to reason..because maybe kage ou might be already bluffing because Língxi never really spends alone time with him but only stay with xio or lànhuā . And Xio feared if ksge ou will throw all of his anger over him as always .
But Língxi's expression didn't change. His reply was soft, but certain:
"He'll be fine. And you need to eat more than any of us. I'm not going back down without you two."
His voice was calm, gentle, yet immovable. He crossed his arms, blue silk brushing over his pale skin, his sleeves sliding up with the motion.
Xio sighed, knowing full well that Língxi wouldn't budge.
"Alright, Uncle. Don't be upset… we're coming."
Língxi's smile returned immediately, almost childlike but not childish..just simply too warm to be true .
"Good. I'll be waiting."
As soon as he disappeared down the hall, Lànhuā let out a suppressed giggle and playfully tapped Xio's shoulder. He flinched with a mock gasp of pain.
"Ah! That's my injured arm!" Xio whined.
"You deserve it," she whispered, grinning. "Looks like my father just ruined your fun with me."
She leaned close, whispering teasingly into his ear. Her warm breath tickled.
Xio pouted, then blew air at her face before darting toward the stairs.
"Xio!" she hissed, chasing after him. "Don't run like that, idiot! You're injured!"
Her boots tapped sharply against the floors like bells on glass.
And so, the lighthearted mischief trailed after Língxi—filling the quiet halls with a warmth that no golden feast could ever serve.