After parting ways with Han Liang, Yuan Yu walked slowly back toward the sect residence. His emotions settled into a quiet mix—lightness, and something softer beneath it. They had met only a few times, yet each encounter left the same trace behind.
He wanted to see him again.
Was this the beginning of a simple friendship… or something more?
When he reached home, he slipped into a steaming bath. The heat loosened the tension in his shoulders, easing the restlessness in his body. He stayed there for a long while, unmoving, letting the rising steam dull the noise in his mind.
Later, wrapped in soft blankets, he fell asleep.
The next morning, Yuan Yu returned to the marketplace. This time, he wore a veiled hat and simple clothes, blending into the crowd. He had planned to walk for a while, then visit a childhood friend—perhaps spend a quiet hour reading together.
But the market had its own voice.
Whispers drifted through the air. Even after two weeks, his name had not faded. It lingered—always tied to the Tiger Sect's leader. As he passed by, fragments reached him. Some said the leader had taken an interest in him. Others went further, claiming he intended to take him as a spouse.
Yuan Yu slowed.
His fingers tightened beneath his sleeve.
Some voices carried admiration. Others, doubt, suspicion.
Every glance felt heavier than the last.
He lowered his gaze, but the murmurs did not stop.
Do they have nothing better to do?
A brief pause followed.
And these are the same people my father has helped time and again. His expression did not change. Only the slight stillness in his steps betrayed him.
He abandoned his plan.
Without meaning to, his thoughts shifted to Han Liang.
There was a steadiness in that man—a quiet presence that made everything else fall away. Yuan Yu let the thought linger.
Perhaps one day, he would take him to the foot of Ying Mountain.
Peach trees lined the river there. The water ran clear and slow, reflecting the sky like glass. That place had always brought him peace.
He wanted to share it.
At the inn, Yuan Yu asked after him. The keeper shook his head—Han Liang had already left.
A brief pause.
"Please… tell him Gu Feng came by," Yuan Yu said quietly, before turning to leave.
Han Liang, meanwhile, was far from the inn. Together with the Second Commander, he followed the trail of the man who had taken the weapons. Two days had passed since the golden-haired Simon disappeared.
The trail was faint.
Too clean.
Someone had erased it carefully.
By the time Han Liang returned, dusk had already settled. The innkeeper quickly stepped forward.
"A young man came earlier," he said. "He wore a veiled hat. He asked for you… said his name was Gu Feng. When I told him you weren't here, he left."
Han Liang stopped.
Gu Feng.
He had come—and he wasn't there.
A brief silence settled over him.
"…I see," he said.
He didn't ask anything else.
A quiet weight pressed in his chest. Not heavy—just enough to remain.
He walked to the window. Pale moonlight filled the room.
For a long moment, he stood there without moving.
The inn had gone still.
The distance between them felt clearer now—quiet, but present.
"Tomorrow," he said softly, "I'll find him."