Once again, Wang Gung played that same melody.
A beutiful tune( vixion taun du jo zhaio sko )
weaved from his fingers, the same one he had played countless times before.
And, like every time, the music vanished into the wind...unanswered.
Whenever he tried to reach Yu Sui, it always ended this way.
His heart had long since melted under the weight of sorrow,
and each passing day only made it harder to bear.
Every time the melody disappeared into the silence, it was like a blade through his soul.
His eyes slowly lowered in despair, grief soaking his gaze like ink on white silk.
But his face remained still....stone-carved, as if he was punishing himself in silence.
He did not know where Yu Sui was.
Whether he had even returned…
or if he still walked this world at all.
And yet, today, as the tale of Yu Sui and Mo Yan was spoken aloud in the courtyard,
his heart whispered,
"If the Prediction is true… then he must be here. Somewhere."
That thought alone broke him.
Because till now no one knew about Yu Sui's whereabouts and how he was.
Tears streamed from his eyes,
falling onto his pure white robes like the first drop of rain on a leaf
scattering into a thousand quiet droplets.
Mo Yan had always known: no matter how many tears fell,
no matter how long he cried,
neither pain nor sorrow would leave him.
Not until Yu Sui stood before him again.
Not until he could embrace him....hold him in his arms once more.
---
Elsewhere… in the quiet of his room,
Ming Heng was still practicing swordsmanship, as he did every single night.
His blade was so sharp, so precise,
it could cut through light and water alike.....
splitting even reflections in two.
No matter how sharp a sword is, if the wielder lacks skill, even a good sword becomes useless. But if the wielder is full of qualities, even a rusty sword can rip through bones. Ming Heng had those qualities; he did not inherit them but they were gifted to him by his hard work every day
Suddenly, someone entered through the window.
A white lotus in hand.
The figure placed the lotus gently on the table and, in one swift motion, snatched the sword from Ming Heng's grasp.
The touch...feather-light, like brushed silk, as soft as freshly spun cotton.
Ming Heng didn't need to turn. He knew that touch well.
A faint smile curved on his lips as he whispered,
"Su Nian..."
Standing behind him wasn't just anyone
it was Zhi Yao,
That smile on his face…
Ming Heng had seen it many times,
but somehow it always felt like it existed only for him.
Zhi Yao set the sword gently on the table and sat down, arms crossed, lips pouting like a sulking child.
"duie!
Every time I come to see you,
you're always holding that sword.
Is your sword dearer to you than me?"
Ming Heng gave a soft smile and sat beside him.
The fragrance of the lotus filled the room,
but even its scent was no match for the warmth that radiated from their bond.
He leaned his head gently on Zhi Yao's shoulder.
Though Ming Heng had always hidden his pain,
his eyes betrayed the truth:
that he still carried a deep ache within.
A guilt like stone pressed on his soul
for failing to save both su nian and his sister.
He had vowed never to make the same mistake again.
And so, night after night,
he trained relentlessly in every art of protection
all so that, no matter what came,
he would be strong enough to shield Su Nian.
He could not...would not.....lose him again.
Yes, time had changed them both.
Not just their bodies…
but the scars of their past,
the battles they face.
And yet
one thing had never changed.
Their love.
Steadfast.
Unshaken.
Still burning.
Even after all this time.