As the trio strolled through the bustling premises of Crimson Spire, Xuan Jing stifled a yawn, his expression betraying only a hint of boredom as they passed a large candy stall. The stall was decorated with bright red lanterns, delicate paper cuttings, and a variety of colorful confections. The enticing aroma of caramelized sugar, roasted nuts, and fragrant osmanthus filled the air, drawing in customers like moths to a flame.
Xuan Jing glanced over at his friends, who were practically vibrating with excitement, their eyes darting over the displays of sweets like young children in a playground. He let out a sigh, his usual impassive face tinged with faint disbelief. Sixteen-year-olds, he thought, and yet here they were, fawning over candies as if they were still toddlers.
"Osmanthus Syrup!" Jiăn Lí shouted, his amber eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee. He leaned forward, practically pressing his face against the glass display as he pointed at a jar filled with a golden syrup speckled with delicate osmanthus flowers.
Feng Hao gave Jiăn Lí a shove, his stormy gray eyes glinting with competitive mischief. "Move aside, sesame brittle's where it's at!" he declared, already eyeing the crunchy, nut-studded treats stacked in a neat pile.
Xuan Jing stood back, his arms loosely folded, watching the spectacle with mild amusement. But as his gaze drifted over the sweets, a flicker of interest broke through his usual indifference. "Tanghulu..." he muttered, almost to himself, his eyes briefly softening as he looked away, the teal shade in his eyes taking on a shy, pastel hue.
Jiăn Lí and Feng Hao, however, weren't going to let that slip past them. They exchanged a look, mischievous grins spreading across their faces. They knew their friend too well; Xuan Jing's rare moments of softness were like gold, something to be savored—and teased.
The stall vendor, an elderly man with a warm, gentle demeanor, noticed their playful bickering and chuckled. His name was Lao Băo (老鲍), a kind soul who had been selling sweets here for decades. With a wispy beard and soft wrinkles etched deep into his face, he exuded the warmth of a grandfather. He watched the boys with a soft smile, the sight of them filling him with memories of his own grandkids.
"Aiya, you young ones have quite the appetite for sweets, eh?" Lao Băo said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Reminds me of my little ones... always so excited over a bit of sugar. Here, let me get those treats for you."
Just as Lao Băo reached for the treats—an Osmanthus Syrup for Jiăn Lí, a Sesame Brittle for Feng Hao, and a Tanghulu for Xuan Jing—a group of boys approached, clad in clothes adorned with the insignia of the Zhi clan. Their leader, a tall and smug-looking boy named Zhi Rui, stepped forward with a grin that could only be described as trouble incarnate. He had sharp, angular features, short dark hair slicked back, and eyes that gleamed with an unsettling hint of arrogance. Behind him were two of his cronies, both sporting sneers as they eyed Xuan Jing and his friends.
Zhi Rui's gaze lingered on Xuan Jing, a hint of mockery in his eyes, before he turned to Lao Băo and reached out, swiping the treats meant for them. "Tanghulu, sesame brittle, and osmanthus syrup, huh? How sweet," he sneered, inspecting each item with feigned interest. "You three planning on a little tea party?"
Jiăn Lí's face flushed with anger, his amber eyes narrowing dangerously. Feng Hao clenched his fists, stormy gray eyes flashing like thunderclouds ready to strike. But Xuan Jing… he remained still, his face expressionless as his pastel teal eyes regarded Zhi Rui with an icy detachment. Though his gaze was calm, a subtle tension coiled within him, as if he were assessing whether to reclaim his Tanghulu by slapping Zhi Rui across the face with it.
Lao Băo looked alarmed, glancing between the boys. "Young master Zhi," he said hesitantly, "these treats were spoken for. Perhaps I could prepare some fresh ones for you?"
Zhi Rui waved him off, smirking. "No need, Lao Băo. They wouldn't mind sharing, would they?" He took a bite out of the Tanghulu, his eyes fixed on Xuan Jing as if challenging him.
Jiăn Lí stepped forward, his voice tense. "That's ours, Zhi Rui. Or are you so desperate for attention that you have to resort to stealing candy?"
Zhi Rui laughed, the sound sharp and grating. "Stealing? I don't see your name on them." He glanced down at the Osmanthus Syrup, raising an eyebrow. "What's this, Jiăn Lí? Didn't know you were into such flowery stuff."
Feng Hao bristled, his hand itching to snatch the sesame brittle back. "You really think picking fights over candy makes you look tough, Zhi Rui?" he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain.
Xuan Jing finally let out a soft, barely audible sigh. "How pathetic," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Zhi Rui to hear. The words were spoken with a cold, dismissive tone, as if Zhi Rui was beneath him—a mere inconvenience, not even worthy of anger.
Zhi Rui's smirk faltered, his cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment at being disregarded so casually. "What did you say, Xuan Jing?" he snapped, stepping closer, attempting to loom over him.
Xuan Jing's teal gaze met his, unblinking, and for a moment, there was a silence that held an almost oppressive weight. "I said… how pathetic. If you're going to act like a child, at least do it without embarrassing yourself."
The crowd around them began to murmur, some casting looks of disdain at Zhi Rui. Embarrassed, Zhi Rui's face twisted in anger. "You think you're so high and mighty, don't you, Xuan Jing? Just because your family—"
"Is this about family now?" Xuan Jing interrupted, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of danger. "Or is it about your inability to even enjoy a treat without feeling threatened?"
Zhi Rui spluttered, momentarily at a loss for words. His cronies looked at him, uncertain, as the tension in the air thickened.
Before Zhi Rui could respond, Feng Hao reached forward, snatching the sesame brittle back from one of Zhi Rui's cronies, his grip iron-clad. "Seems like you're the one in need of attention, Zhi Rui. Maybe you should go find it somewhere else."
Jiăn Lí stepped in as well, swiftly reclaiming the jar of Osmanthus Syrup, his gaze unwavering as he met Zhi Rui's. "Take a walk. You're out of your league here."
For a moment, it looked like Zhi Rui might push back, his hands clenching and unclenching as he glared at them. But Xuan Jing remained still, his gaze unmoving, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if daring Zhi Rui to make a move.
Realizing he was outnumbered and under the scrutiny of the growing crowd, Zhi Rui scoffed, trying to save face. "Fine. I don't have time to waste on you losers anyway." He turned on his heel, muttering to his cronies as they trailed behind him, their pride wounded and their presence diminished.
As the Zhi clan boys slinked away, Xuan Jing rolled his eyes, releasing a soft exhale as he turned back to Lao Băo. "Apologies for the scene," he said, his tone polite but detached, as if dismissing an unpleasant incident in passing.
Lao Băo smiled warmly, shaking his head. "No harm done, young master Xuan. It's always a pleasure to serve you boys." He handed the Tanghulu back to Xuan Jing, who took it with a brief nod, the barest hint of gratitude flickering in his gaze.
Jiăn Lí and Feng Hao both laughed, finally relaxing as they tore into their sweets. Jiăn Lí nudged Xuan Jing, grinning. "See? All this for a Tanghulu. Who knew you had a soft spot?"
Xuan Jing merely looked away, taking a small bite of his Tanghulu without a word, though the faintest trace of amusement danced in his eyes as they continued on.