Still clutching the Grandmaster's wounded hand in his own, Chi Cheng's emerald green eyes peered into Han Xuelian's icy blue ones. In that single, fleeting moment, time and nature seemed to fade into nothingness.
The only thing that filled Chi Cheng's ears was the morning winter breeze and the rustling of Han Xuelian's earrings; its jewels clanking against each other. A part of him desperately wanted to lean into the Grandmaster's touch.
However, he would never admit it.
Those were foolish thoughts and desires of being caught up in the moment.
Chi Cheng cautioned himself once again that Han Xuelian's kindness was simply out of pity. Or perhaps the Grandmaster had ulterior motives, considering how suspiciously generous he was towards the younger male.
'I want to be angry…' Chi Cheng frowned, his mind still delirious from the scent of blood.
