The celebration in the town lasted long into the night—Old Ma had pulled out all the stops, making huge pots of noodles, steamed buns, and sweet rice cakes. The tailor had hung new signs, and even Xiao Mei had brought out a wooden flute to play.
Lin Chen sat on a stool outside the noodle stall, his blank book open in his lap. He'd been flipping through it, looking at the faint lines that now marked its pages—each one a trace of a story he'd touched, a choice he'd made.
Gao Yang plopped down next to him, handing him a bowl of tea. "So," he said, grinning. "World's greatest unwritten warrior. How does it feel?"
"Like I still have a lot to learn," Lin Chen said, his eyes on a single page near the end of the book. There was a tiny, almost invisible line there—so faint he'd almost missed it. It curved in a strange, sharp shape, like a broken thread.
Yu Qing sat down on his other side, her notebook open. "I've been writing down everything that happened in the tournament," she said. "Your dance—you know, the one that stopped Xie Yun—it's like nothing I've ever seen. I'm calling it 'The Blank Flower.'"
Lin Chen smiled, but his eyes kept drifting back to that faint line. He tried to write over it, but the ink just slid off. It was as if that page was already marked for something he couldn't change.
"Hey," Gao Yang said, noticing his distraction. "Want to go for a walk? Clear your head. I heard there's a river nearby that glows at night."
They walked through the quiet streets to the river, where the water really did glow—softly, like starlight trapped in liquid. Blank the cat ran ahead, chasing fireflies that danced just above the surface.
"This is nice," Yu Qing said, kicking off her shoes and dipping her feet in the water. "No tournaments, no enforcers, no dark shadows. Just… us."
Gao Yang picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the water. It bounced three times before sinking. "You know what I hope?" he said. "I hope we get to do this forever. Just wander, find new places, eat good food, fight bad guys when we have to."
Lin Chen leaned against a tree, watching the stone sink. The faint line in his book felt like a weight now. He pulled out the book and flipped to that final page again—this time, he saw something else: a tiny, almost unreadable word next to the line. It looked like "last."
"Forever's a long time," he said, closing the book. "But we'll take it one day at a time."
Yu Qing stood up and walked over to him, handing him a small, smooth stone she'd found. "I polished this," she said. "For good luck. It's got a white patch on it—like Blank. And look"—she turned it over—"a little black line running through it. Like your title: pitch black to blinding white."
Lin Chen took the stone. The black line on it curved in exactly the same shape as the faint line in his book. He slipped it into his pocket, a strange feeling in his chest—like recognition, but of something that hadn't happened yet.
Blank the cat ran back to them, a firefly caught in his paw. He dropped it at Lin Chen's feet, and it flew away, leaving a trail of light.
"Let's head back," Gao Yang said, yawning. "Old Ma's probably saved us some more noodles. And tomorrow… who knows? Maybe we'll find a new town, or a new adventure."
As they walked back, Lin Chen looked up at the stars. One of them was dimmer than the others, flickering as if it was about to go out. He watched it for a moment, then looked ahead at his friends—their laughter floating through the night air, their steps light and carefree.
The faint line in his book, the black line on the stone, the flickering star—they all felt connected somehow. But he pushed the thought away. Tonight was for celebrating. Tomorrow was for new pages.
The future could wait. For now, he had this moment—this perfect, unwritten moment with the people he cared about most.