Bonds Forged in Confession
"Yes, thank you," Xie Xie said, his voice steadier after the emotional release. He took a deep, shuddering breath and raised his head, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. "Getting that out... it feels lighter. The weight isn't so crushing anymore."
"Sometimes that's how it is," Yao Xuan said, his tone calm and understanding. "Pain kept inside only festers. Sharing it can disperse its power." He paused, then continued with a gentle directness. "Since Xie Xie has trusted us with his story, perhaps I should share a part of my childhood as well. It wasn't... a conventional beginning. I was an orphan."
The word hung in the air, drawing the focused attention of Tang Wulin, Xie Xie, and Gu Yue.
"An orphan?" Tang Wulin repeated softly.
"Yes," Yao Xuan confirmed, allowing a trace of somber remembrance to color his expression—a carefully measured performance of a past that was both his and not entirely his. "When I was about two, my parents were lost at sea in a tsunami. I was sent to the Red Mountain Orphanage."
He offered a small, wry smile. "But my story isn't one of unrelenting hardship. When I was six, they discovered I had the talent to be a Soul Master. The academy arranged a foster mother for me. She was... truly kind. She gave me a home, and for the first time since my parents, I felt that warmth again."
"Boss, I thought I had it rough, but you..." Xie Xie murmured, his earlier self-pity transforming into a newfound respect for Yao Xuan's quiet resilience.
"It's in the past," Yao Xuan said with a dismissive shake of his head. "And it wasn't all bleak. After finding that new home, life became normal, even joyful. I even gained a little sister. Her name is Na'er."
At the mention of the name, Gu Yue, who had been listening with an air of detached observation, felt a subtle tremor run through her. Her posture imperceptibly stiffened, her amethyst eyes locking onto Yao Xuan with intense, hidden focus.
"Though we aren't related by blood, the bond between us is stronger than any I've known," Yao Xuan continued, his voice softening with genuine affection. "She was an orphan too. I found her one day on my way home from school—some... unpleasant people were bothering her. She had lost her memory, didn't know where she was from."
He smiled, a distant, fond look in his eyes. "She was the loveliest girl. I couldn't bear the thought of her going to an orphanage, so I convinced my mother to let her stay. She agreed. Na'er lived with us for two years, and they were the happiest two years of my life."
The fondness faded, replaced by a quiet, enduring regret. "But two years later, she was gone. One night, she left without a word. Just a note. I don't know when, or even if, I'll ever see her again." He let out a soft sigh, the sound carrying the weight of a long-held hope.
"Brother Xuan," Tang Wulin ventured, his young face earnest. "She must have had a reason she couldn't say, right?"
"I believe so," Yao Xuan nodded. "Her note said she'd remembered her lost memories, and that staying would bring disaster to us. I've... wondered about it. Sometimes I imagine she might have been a princess from the Star Luo Empire, perhaps fleeing persecution, her memory lost until it wasn't safe to stay any longer." It was a plausible, romantic fiction he offered, close enough to the truth of her extraordinary nature to feel real, yet far enough to protect her secret.
"Boss, you have quite the imagination! A Star Luo princess?" Xie Xie said, the hint of a returning smirk on his face. "But whatever she is, when you're strong enough, you'll overcome any obstacle and find her again. I'm sure of it."
"Yes," Yao Xuan said, his voice firming with conviction. "I believe that too. Finding her again is one of the reasons I walk this path. When I am strong enough, I will seek her out myself."
He let the statement settle, then gestured with an open hand towards Tang Wulin. "That's my story. Sharing it does lighten the heart. Wulin, is there anything you'd like to share with us?"
"Something on my mind?" Tang Wulin straightened. "My family isn't wealthy, but my parents are healthy and they love me dearly. I am fortunate. But there is one thing I must say."
He turned fully to face Yao Xuan, his expression one of profound, unshakable sincerity. "Brother Xuan, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. If it weren't for your constant encouragement, your guidance... I might have lost all confidence. I might never have advanced to Soul Master, let alone entered Donghai Academy."
His voice thickened with emotion. "In my heart, you are not just my senior brother. You are my mentor, and my idol. My gratitude and respect for you run deeper than I can say. One of my purposes in cultivating is to keep pace with you, to prove worthy of your belief in me, and to stand by your side if you ever need help!"
With that, Tang Wulin bowed deeply, a gesture of respect that came from his very core.
The system notification chimed softly in Yao Xuan's mind, a significant and unexpected bounty. He reached out, placing a firm, steadying hand on Tang Wulin's shoulder. "Wulin, believe in yourself. You have the strength within you. I have never doubted it."
"Thank you, Brother Xuan! I will do my utmost!" Tang Wulin straightened, his eyes shining with renewed determination.
Yao Xuan then turned his gaze, warm and inviting, to the silent girl beside him. "Gu Yue? What about you? Is there anything you wish to say?"
Gu Yue was pulled from her reverie. Yao Xuan's story had woven a complex tapestry within her—threads of melancholy for the naive, trusting Na'er she had been; a pang of guilt for the silent departure; and a burning, relentless curiosity about the boy who carried the Dragon God's aura and spoke of her other self with such unwavering fondness.
Was leaving without a word truly the right choice?
How should I, as Gu Yue, face him? How should I face... Na'er?
What is he, truly? A fragment of the Old One? Or something else entirely?
"Me?" she finally echoed, her voice its usual melodic calm, belying the storm of thought within.
"Yes."
She considered for a long moment. To speak her true feelings was impossible. Yet, to lie to these three—to Xie Xie who had just bared his soul, to Tang Wulin with his pure devotion, to Yao Xuan who had shared a memory that was partly hers—felt equally wrong.
"To be honest," she began, choosing her words with the care of a diplomat, "in these three months with all of you, I have learned a great deal. Truly, a great deal." It was an evasion, yet it was also the purest truth she could offer. She had learned about camaraderie, about human vulnerability and strength, about a bond that seemed to transcend calculated purpose.
The meal continued, conversation flowing more easily now over the emptied clay pots. The shared confessions had acted as a solvent, dissolving invisible barriers. The distance between them—physical and emotional—had undeniably shrunk.
Over an hour later, the quartet finally emerged from the small shop, utterly satiated. Behind them, on the table, stood a staggering tower of over forty empty clay pots, piled nearly half a man's height. Uncle Li stared, his jaw slightly slack.
"Forty-two servings! By the heavens, where do youngsters these days put it all?!"
In truth, over thirty of those portions had vanished into the bottomless stomachs of Yao Xuan and Tang Wulin, yet neither showed the slightest bulge or discomfort.
Their journey down the food street continued—salt-boiled shrimp glistening in piles, honey-glazed rabbit sizzling on charcoal, crispy golden fried chicken. Laughter and easy talk accompanied each new taste, though the lion's share of the culinary carnage was still perpetrated by Yao Xuan and his steadfast junior brother.
"You three are bottomless pits!" Xie Xie groaned good-naturedly, patting his own comfortably full stomach and leaning on Tang Wulin for exaggerated support. Indeed, he was the only one who looked truly stuffed. Even the slender Gu Yue appeared completely unperturbed, her digestion as impeccable as her poise.
As the evening deepened, they finally turned their steps back toward the academy, the warmth of full bellies and shared secrets a comforting cloak around them.
"Hey," Tang Wulin said, his sharp eyes catching a disturbance ahead. He pointed toward the entrance of the food street, near Uncle Li's "Muffled Beef" shop. A crowd had gathered, and the scene was one of agitated chaos. "Looks like there's trouble at Uncle Li's place!"
The easy contentment of the evening shattered, replaced by a sudden, alert tension. The four exchanged glances, their bond as a team snapping instantly into place. Without a word, they quickened their pace, moving as one toward the commotion.