Frost Moon Sect's evenings were known for their silence. Mist crept through the stone walkways like old ghosts, plum blossoms fell in slow spirals, and wind chimes sang in the distance. For most disciples, it was a time to rest, meditate, and dream of rising through the ranks.
For Shen Jiu, it was a time to wonder how many cracks he had already left in this new version of Luo Wen.
He sat cross-legged in the courtyard behind the disciple quarters, surrounded by white stones he'd arranged himself—forming a crude calming array. It wasn't powerful, not even formally drawn, but it was enough to dampen surrounding spiritual noise. Enough for one thing.
To help Luo Wen learn to breathe.
Not in panic.
Not in fear.
But the way a cultivator should.
The boy sat across from him, stiff and quiet, mimicking his posture exactly. Their knees almost touched. His robes were slightly neater today. Hair tied back. No blood under his nails.
Still too thin.
Still holding himself like he expected to be struck.
"Close your eyes," Shen Jiu said gently.
Luo Wen obeyed immediately.
"Now," Shen Jiu continued, "focus on your dantian. Draw breath not just with your chest, but with your spirit. Let it settle low. Feel your center."
The boy nodded faintly.
Shen Jiu watched him breathe. In. Out. Shaky. Uneven. Trying so hard.
He shouldn't have been this fragile. The system had failed him. Or no—he had failed him. Years ago. He could still remember himself saying, "You're not suited to cultivate. Maybe you'd be better off in the kitchens."
He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.
"Shixiong…" came Luo Wen's whisper, eyes still closed.
"Yes?"
"Why are you helping me?"
Shen Jiu blinked.
It wasn't the first time the boy had asked. But something about the way he said it now—the soft tremor, the aching weight behind it—made him hesitate.
"I told you," Shen Jiu replied, tone measured, "you have potential."
"But… even if I do," Luo Wen whispered, "it doesn't benefit you."
Shen Jiu smiled faintly, tired. "Not everything has to benefit me."
That answer didn't seem to satisfy Luo Wen. But he said nothing else. Just lowered his head.
Shen Jiu reached forward instinctively to adjust the boy's posture—gently lifting his shoulders, brushing fingers under his chin to straighten his neck.
It was a thoughtless gesture.
But the moment their skin touched, Luo Wen's eyes snapped open.
And he looked at Shen Jiu like he'd been caught mid-dream.
Like someone who'd just discovered the air was sweeter only when standing this close.
"You touched me," he said softly.
Shen Jiu retracted his hand at once. "To correct your alignment."
But the boy still stared.
He looked... hungry.
Not physically. Not even emotionally, quite. It was a spiritual hunger. A fixation. As though that one light touch had rewritten something inside him.
"You have warm hands," Luo Wen murmured.
Shen Jiu turned his face away, willing his heartbeat to slow. He's just grateful. That's all. Don't overthink it. Just stay calm.
But calm was growing harder by the day.
---
Later that night, Shen Jiu returned to his quarters, exhausted. His muscles ached from suppressing his own cultivation so as not to overwhelm the boy. His head throbbed from overthinking every word, every glance. He undressed, folded his outer robe, and lay down with a sigh.
The door was locked.
The curtains were drawn.
He drifted off—
But something stirred.
A breath. A shadow. A presence.
His eyes flew open.
He sat up.
And in the corner of the room, just barely visible in the darkness… stood Luo Wen.
Silent.
Unmoving.
Watching him.
Shen Jiu's blood ran cold.
"...Luo Wen?"
The boy flinched. He stepped forward quickly, hands half-raised. "I—I'm sorry! I—I didn't mean to scare you—I was just—"
"Why are you here?"
"I—I saw your door wasn't sealed all the way, and I thought… maybe… maybe you needed something."
Shen Jiu's mind raced. He always sealed his door. Always.
Unless someone had opened it after.
Luo Wen stood at the edge of the moonlight. His expression looked panicked—tears threatening—but there was something under the panic. A deep-rooted desperation. A need to explain something he didn't think was wrong.
"I just wanted to make sure you were safe," he whispered. "After all you've done for me…"
Shen Jiu breathed slowly. Deliberately.
"I appreciate the thought," he said carefully. "But you mustn't enter without permission. Ever."
Luo Wen bit his lip. His shoulders curled inward like a scolded dog.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I just… I worry about you. A lot."
"I'm fine."
"But how would I know that unless I saw it with my own eyes?"
That wasn't a normal answer.
That wasn't gratitude.
That was fixation.
Obsession blooming like nightshade.
Shen Jiu forced himself to smile. "You've been training hard. You should rest. Go."
Luo Wen hesitated.
Then bowed. "Yes, Shixiong."
He left, quietly.
The door shut behind him.
Shen Jiu lay down again, eyes open in the dark. And for the first time since his rebirth, he locked the door twice.
---
Across the compound, Luo Wen returned to his own quarters, heart pounding.
He'd been so close.
So close.
Shixiong's robe had been undone. His hair had spilled over his shoulder. He had looked… soft. Tired. Real.
Like someone who needed him.
And Luo Wen wanted to be needed. Needed so badly to be the only one allowed to see that side. The one who knew when Shixiong stirred in his sleep, or sighed, or whispered dreams.
Why do I want this so badly? he wondered.
But even as he asked it, he already knew.
Because this time, he wouldn't be discarded.
This time, he'd carve a space in Shixiong's world with his own hands.
Even if it meant bleeding for it.
Even if it meant being hated.
Because it was still love.
Wasn't it?
---