The bamboo leaves rustled. Jia Wei Xin struck forward, palm slicing the air with practiced precision. Sweat trickled down her temple, breathing calm. For days, the training grounds had been peaceful—no spies, no scheming elders, no demon kings...
"Training again? What a diligent little disciple you are."
Jia Wei Xin stilled mid-motion.
Zhang Tian leaned against the curved archway, arms crossed. His demon-red robes fluttered. A rogue lock of dark hair fell over his perpetually mischievous eyes.
She narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?"
"Lunch. A walk. You. All of the above," he grinned. "The market's bustling. You've been stuck in this stone cage since the Pat Ci debacle, smelling of incense and ancient scrolls. Abandon this monastic existence for a day. Time to live a little."
She hesitated.
---
The sect was in chaos after Pat Ci's downfall. Liu Mo Fei was a storm in human form: dismantling old hierarchies, reforming rules, punishing the corrupt. Yet, he still made time for her. Every morning, he sat across from her, pouring tea with steady hands, offering quiet wisdom. He'd steal glances over his cup.
"Try rotating your energy through the lower dantian while practicing breath control," he'd murmured just that morning. "Or I could just distract you with a kiss and let the qi sort itself out."
She'd almost spit out her porridge.
"Maybe a private session tonight? We could start with… relaxation techniques." His lips curved into that familiar, charming smirk, sending a tingle down her spine. Jia Wei Xin rolled her eyes, smiling, and kicked him lightly under the table.
He hadn't brought up the marriage proposal since that night under the moonwillow tree. But his flirtation lingered like incense—smoky, subtle, utterly addictive. This was their rhythm: his intense work, her focused training, punctuated by shared meals and his lingering flirtations. She cherished these quiet moments, their unspoken understanding deepening daily.
Still, he was buried in work. And she… she needed a breather. The sect grounds, while beautiful, felt stifling after weeks of intense training and recent stress. A day out, a taste of 'normal' in an ancient town, sounded like paradise. She hadn't had a proper shopping spree in ages. Her modern sensibilities yearned for a good bargain, even if for jade hairpins instead of designer shoes.
---
"You know sect rules, Zhang Tian," she said, a smile already playing on her lips. "Disciples need permits. Security's stricter than a prison."
He waved a dismissive hand, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Details, details. Does a demon king need a 'permit'?" He puffed out his chest playfully. "I handled it. 'Emergency errand for the sect, vital for a special project involving… unique spiritual herbs.' The guards practically saluted me."
Jia Wei Xin narrowed her eyes. "You got a permit for me too?"
"Of course! Jia Wei Xin, emergency consultant for unique spiritual herbs," he declared, bowing theatrically. "Don't worry, the names are all logged."
"Fine," she said, brushing hair from her face. "But no shady detours this time. I want dumplings. And peace."
Zhang Tian's grin widened. "Dumplings, peace, and me. What a combination."
---
They walked shoulder-to-shoulder through the bustling town. Children darted between stalls, merchants called out, the scent of fried taro and sweet osmanthus filled the air.
Zhang Tian bought her a fox-shaped sugar sculpture, then tried to eat its tail. She swatted him.
He insisted on buying her a beautifully embroidered silk pouch, claiming it was "essential for a lady of your… unique tastes." Then he filled it with ridiculous, oversized hairpins shaped like mythical beasts, making her laugh until her stomach hurt.
They ate at a corner teahouse. The noodles were slippery, the soup hot. Zhang Tian insisted on stealing the last tofu cube, clearly hers.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
He leaned closer, voice teasing. "And yet here you are. Dumpling-fed, sugar-high, and laughing. Admit it—you missed me."
She opened her mouth to argue. Then closed it.
He wasn't wrong.
As the sun began to dip below the distant peaks, painting the sky orange and purple, a familiar pang struck Jia Wei Xin. Dinner. With Liu Mo Fei. Her sifu. The thought brought a surprising warmth to her chest. She had a routine, a comfortable, steady rhythm she hadn't realized how much she relied on.
"We should head back," she said, wiping her mouth. "It's getting late. Sifu will be expecting me."
Zhang Tian's smile faltered. His jaw tightened. "Why do you want to stay in that place?"
She blinked. "The sect?"
"Yes. You train until you bleed, you follow rules carved in stone, and you're constantly in danger."
Jia Wei Xin frowned, surprised by the abrupt shift. "I… I haven't really thought that far. But for now, staying in the sect is comfortable. It's safe. And," she paused, a strange realization dawning, "it's good for me. I'm learning, improving. I haven't really thought of leaving." And I'm used to him being there, a small, insistent voice whispered, referring to Liu Mo Fei. Her heart clenched with a surprising sense of longing.
Zhang Tian's expression darkened further, almost imperceptibly. She felt the shift in the air, the subtle tightening of tension. A slow, chillingly uncharacteristic evil smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, twisted his lips. She had never seen it, and it sent a prickle of unease down her spine.
"No," he murmured, voice dangerously low, "you haven't thought of leaving. But perhaps… leaving is exactly what you need."
Before Jia Wei Xin could react, a subtle, sweet scent, like blooming night jasmine, wafted towards her. Her head swam, vision blurred. The bustling street sounds receded. A wave of dizziness washed over her.
"What—"
Her legs buckled.
The world blurred into swirls of gold and red. Her heartbeat raced—then slowed. Her breath caught.
She collapsed forward—
—and fell into Zhang Tian's waiting arms.
His voice trembled against her hair. "Forgive me, Little Firecracker. You said you hadn't thought of leaving," he whispered, holding her close. "So I made the choice for you."
Behind them, the town lanterns flickered—one by one—until only darkness remained.