Ye Xuan lingered at the edge of the spring while the others scattered, their laughter rising like birds into the mist. His dwelling of unadorned white stone stood waiting, its door a single, smooth slab. Though smaller than the rest, the hum beneath the earth was strongest here. When he stepped inside, the qi-laced air pressed gently against his skin. The faint glow of the spring rippled as if the mountain itself had acknowledged him.
Not far away, Liangfeng, with his customary steady calm, entered his own house. He crouched at once, palm brushing the floor. Beneath the stone, qi threads pulsed faintly, flowing in rhythm with his breath. He whispered, almost to himself, "The house breathes."
His gaze lingered on the glow, and memory flared to life. He saw his mother's face: lined with worry, yet burning with determination. He felt the ghost of her hands tightening his robe, her final touch before sending him through the gates of Skyveil. He heard her voice, a whisper of both her prayers and his father's will. And behind her, the weary elders of her clan, their robes torn and eyes fierce with duty, who had crossed storms and void-beasts to bring him to this moment.
Liangfeng closed his hand into a fist, pressing the memory away. A silent vow. Their sacrifices had brought him to Astralis; now it was his turn to stand firm.
Qingxian moved more slowly, her hand trailing along the doorway of her dwelling. Threads of silver shimmered and vanished at her touch, delicate as cobwebs in moonlight. She tilted her head, listening—"The walls remember footsteps," she murmured, her voice barely a breath.
Outside, Chenrui's loud protests and Wen's laughter rang as they fought over who had "the biggest house." Mei was already trying to sneak into three different doorways. But beneath their noise, the spring pulsed—steady and patient—marking these quiet first steps into belonging.
Chenrui soon stormed back out, arms crossed, scowling. "Mine's still bigger."
"It's not," Wen countered, a smirk playing on his lips as golden sparks flickered faintly in his eyes. "They're the same size. I checked."
"Then yours shrank," Chenrui said with finality.
Mei's laughter pealed across the valley. She was halfway through Shen's doorway again until her brother hooked her collar and tugged her back. "Stay in your own house," Shen muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile.
Qingyi emerged quietly, her eyes scanning each detail of the circle. "We should sit together. The spring feels… different when we're near it."
The suggestion settled over the group like a gentle command. One by one, they gathered around the glowing water, each carrying the small trays of spirit fruit and bread left in their rooms. They formed a rough circle, their faces painted silver-blue by the springlight.
Chenrui bit noisily into a fruit, juice running down his chin. "Tomorrow, I'll win every match."
"You won't," Wen said flatly, peeling the skin from his own fruit with careful fingers.
"Yes, I will."
"No, you won't."
Their bickering rose and fell like clashing cymbals until Mei, stuffing fruit into both cheeks, hiccupped—and a tiny, silver puff of frost mist shot from her nose.
For a heartbeat, silence. Then laughter exploded from all sides. Mei toppled backward in embarrassment, her twin tails splayed in the dust. Even Liangjun's lips curved, and Qingxian's quiet eyes softened with mirth.
The noise mellowed into chuckles and soft chatter. They shared fruit, teased one another, and argued over who had eaten more. The spring's silver glow wrapped around them, their childish voices tangling into a chorus of belonging—something warmer and more lasting than rivalry.
Later, when the circle had broken apart, Ye Xuan sat on the step of his dwelling, watching the spring shimmer. The hum beneath the earth was stronger now, as if the mountain had listened to their laughter. Liangfeng joined him silently, lowering himself beside the boy. For a while, neither spoke.
Finally, Liangfeng murmured, "It hums louder here."
Ye Xuan's lips curved into the faintest smile. "I thought so too."
The mist deepened, curling around their shoulders. Liangfeng studied the boy beside him, his eyes catching the faint, shifting gleam in Xuan's gaze. "I've never seen you before," he said softly. "When we were gathered in the courtyards, your name wasn't spoken. Why?"
Xuan lowered his head. "I… was kept apart." His voice was small, careful, as though even those words might carry too far.
Liangfeng considered this, then nodded slowly. 'My mother brought me here from far away... with my uncles and aunties. They fought monsters I never even saw, all so I could grow strong here.'
Xuan's hands fidgeted in his sleeves, but his eyes lifted for a heartbeat, shimmering faintly. 'Your house... feels heavy. Like you're carrying something big.'
Liangfeng blinked, then gave a small nod. 'I suppose I am.' He glanced at Xuan, curiosity flickering. 'My mother says the same. But you... no one talked about you. Why?'"
Xuan hesitated, his gaze dropping back to the spring. "I don't know. They just… kept me inside. Away."
The two fell quiet again, the cool mist clinging to their skin. Their words were simple, clumsy even, but the weight beneath them lingered in the air, as if the spring itself was listening.
"Heyyy!"
Chenrui's voice cracked through the stillness. He came striding toward them from his house, arms swinging like pendulums, a wide grin splitting his face. "What are you two whispering about?" He leaned in, his glowing crimson eyes narrowing to slits with exaggerated suspicion. "Hah, I know—you're planning something naughty!"
Liangfeng blinked, unbothered. "We were just talking."
Chenrui gasped dramatically, throwing his arms up. "Exactly what someone would say if they were planning something!"
Xuan fidgeted, his lips twitching as if he might smile.
Chenrui jabbed a finger at them. "Fine. Keep your secrets. Tomorrow I'll find out. When training starts, I'll beat both of you anyway!"
His bravado was met with only a calm nod from Liangfeng and a shy glance from Xuan. That seemed to annoy him more than any denial, and he huffed, crossing his arms before plopping down beside them like a sulking rooster.
The spring shimmered, its silver-blue light brushing all three faces, blending the quiet, the calm, and the noisy into one shared moment.
Chenrui broke it first, as always. "So—what do you think training will be like tomorrow? Sword drills? Fighting beasts? Maybe they'll let us climb the Holy Mountain itself!" His eyes glowed brighter with each guess, fists already swinging at invisible enemies.
Liangfeng shook his head. "Not yet. We're still small. It will probably be sitting… breathing… listening."
Chenrui groaned so loudly the mist seemed to quiver. "Sitting? That's not training, that's napping!"
Xuan's lips curved faintly. "Sometimes… listening is harder than fighting."
Chenrui flopped onto his back, staring up at the misty sky. "Boring. I want to fight beasts bigger than houses! I'll slay one, bring it back, and they'll have to call me the strongest."
"Or they'll scold you for being reckless," Liangfeng replied flatly.
"They won't," Chenrui insisted. "Because I'll win." He tilted his head toward them, his grin returning. "What about you two? What do you want?"
Liangfeng's gaze dropped to the spring. For a long moment, he was silent, then said quietly, "I want to be strong enough… that my mother never has to worry again." His fingers curled against his knee. "She gave everything to bring me here. I don't want her sacrifice to be wasted."
Chenrui blinked, his grin faltering. "That's… uh… not bad." He scratched his head, unsure how to reply.
Xuan's eyes stayed on the rippling water. He hesitated, then spoke in a whisper. "I want to see… outside."
"Outside?" Chenrui tilted his head.
Xuan nodded. "I've always been kept in one place. I want to see the mountains, the sky… everything."
For once, Chenrui didn't laugh. He looked between them, then puffed his chest again. "Fine! Then I'll protect you both. Liangfeng's mother won't have to worry, and Xuan will get to see the whole world. I'll lead us—because I'm the strongest!"
Liangfeng only raised an eyebrow. "You lost twice today."
"Doesn't matter!" Chenrui said firmly, waving away the words. "Tomorrow is a new start."
The three fell into softer talk after that—about the games they used to play, the foods they missed from home, the silly things they wanted when they grew up. Dreams, hopes, and fragments of early life spilled out, carried on laughter and mist.
For a little while, they weren't heirs of great bloodlines or future prodigies of Astralis. They were only boys by a glowing spring, sharing secrets with the night.