Soft.
I rubbed my cheek against the soothing pillow, pulling the comforting blanket tighter around me.
"Hmm..." I stretched lazily on my side, the haze of sleep slowly lifting. As my eyes adjusted, I realized we had already reached Bai Yu, and I was lying in the quiet sanctuary of our room.
Glancing around, I searched for him, as I always did. And there he was, as usual, engrossed in his papers. He must have removed my hairpins and ribbons while I slept, as my hair now flowed freely, draping over my shoulders and down to my waist like a silken veil.
Sliding out of bed, my robe shifted, its loose folds revealing a hint of cleavage. I crept up behind him, my fingers lightly tracing the broad planes of his shoulders. Leaning closer, I let my nose graze the nape of his neck, trailing upward to his jaw. His scent lingered—clean and sharp, carrying the faint aroma of the luxurious bath oils we used.
"You still act like a cat," Yen remarked, his voice calm and unbothered by my playful antics.
As if in agreement, I wrapped my arms around him, letting my body mold against his back. I nuzzled my face against his, drawing a chuckle from him as I reveled in the silliness of the moment.
"Will you do my hair, master?" I asked softly, looking up at him with a teasing smile. My voice carried a playful purr, my request more a demand than a plea.
Yen barely glanced at me, his attention still fixed on the papers. I hit his arm, and he let out a resigned sigh.
"Fine," he said, his tone laced with mock defeat, though a smile tugged at his lips.
Grinning, I moved to sit in front of the mirror. Yen stood behind me, his hands skillfully working through my hair. His movements were efficient, honed by years of practice. It wasn't long before he finished, my hair styled perfectly.
"After years of practice, you are now a master of hairstyling," I said, nodding sagely as though I were the leader of a powerful sect.
"Anything for you, my lady," Yen replied, his voice carrying an edge of amusement as he pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.
"Now, do my makeup," I added, my grin widening.
He pretended not to hear, turning back to his cramped desk. His silence earned a burst of laughter from me as I adjusted my robe and fastened my cloak.
"I'll check on the others, Yenny," I called, not bothering to wait for his response, knowing it would only be his usual nod.
As I walked through the quiet halls, a faint sound caught my attention—grunts and a familiar voice barking orders. I paused, then changed direction, heading toward the training grounds. The closer I got, the clearer the voices became.
"If you fall down, I'll break your arms next."
"Ugh! No!"
"Then lift it!"
At the edge of the training grounds, I stopped, folding my arms as I watched the scene unfold. Arkon was standing with a bottle of wine in hand, his sharp eyes fixed on Kiyel. The poor boy was staggering under the weight of a massive boulder, at least three times his size, his legs trembling as he strained to keep his balance.
"Lili," Arkon greeted, smirking as he noticed me. He sauntered over, dragging the bottle of wine and offering me a small cup.
"Lili?" Kiyel faltered for a moment, his knees almost buckling under the weight. A sharp glance from Arkon forced him to straighten.
"You started training him already?" I asked, accepting the cup as Arkon poured wine into it.
"Couldn't help it. The kid's too weak and naïve," Arkon replied, gulping straight from the bottle after filling my cup. "Besides, Yen told me I could do whatever I want to fix his pathetic qi."
I sipped my wine. "And how is he?"
Arkon chuckled darkly. "He learns faster under pressure. Violence works wonders. At least, for me." He shook the bottle, checking its contents.
"Just don't murder him," I said dryly, handing him the next bottle.
Wines are stacked in every corner of the building for Arkon. It keeps him... sane.
"Give me a week," Arkon replied with a grin, popping the cork. "I'll let you know if he's worth keeping alive."
"556, 557, 558..." Kiyel's strained voice filled the air.
"Oh, by the way, the kid's illiterate," Arkon added casually, slumping on the ground and leaning on the empty bottle.
I raised an eyebrow. "At least he can count," I replied, amused as Kiyel's strained voice continued in the background. Arkon laughed.
"That's no problem," I added, finishing my drink and setting the cup down. "I'll teach him."
"HEY! WHO TOLD YOU TO REST?!" Arkon's voice boomed suddenly, the sheer force of it stirring the air around us.
"I'M SORRY!" Kiyel's panicked reply echoed back, accompanied by the sound of the boulder shifting.
"SHUT UP AND LIFT IT!"
"Yes, sir! 559, 560, 561!"
I couldn't help but chuckle at the exchange. Despite Arkon's rough demeanor, there was a method to his madness. Kiyel would come out stronger—if he survived, that is.
Arkon huffed, taking another swig of wine as he slouched back lazily. "It's been three years. Any progress on your search?"
The question caught me off guard, but I maintained my composure. "Yen is still looking for answers," I said, my tone steady, though the weight of the question lingered.
A long silence stretched between us before Arkon spoke again, his tone quieter this time. "But have you and Yen grasped your destiny yet?"
I looked up at the sky, its vast expanse glittering with stars. "We have... or at least, we think we have," I replied softly. "Maybe we've become too comfortable, always by each other's side. Nothing seems able to separate us."
Arkon poured more wine into my cup, his expression unreadable.
"But what lies ahead is uncertain," I continued, my voice almost a whisper. "If the time comes when either of us... you know, die. Will you help our souls find each other again?"
Arkon groaned, ruffling his feathers in mock irritation. "Ugh, I hate dramas," he muttered, though his tone betrayed a hint of fondness.
I laughed, clinking my cup against his bottle before drinking it all. "Well then, I'll leave you gentlemen to your training."
As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me. It was low, almost inaudible, but the sincerity in it was unmistakable. "Whatever happens, I'll help you two stay together."
I glanced back, a soft smile playing on my lips. "Thank you, Arkon."
He gave a small nod, his gaze shifting back to Kiyel, who was still struggling under the weight of the boulder.
"592, 593, 594—AAAHHH! 613!" Kiyel's grunts echoed through the training grounds, a mix of pain and determination.
"What the fuck? 613?! I'll show you how to count. COME HERE!"
"AHHHHH!!!"
I walked away, the sound of Kiyel's shouts fading into the distance, and felt a strange sense of calm. For all the chaos and uncertainty ahead, there was comfort in knowing I wasn't alone—not now, not ever.