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A world cocooned in pristine white, silent and cold. The air held a crisp, invigorating chill, biting at the edges of every breath. Trees stood sentinel, their branches adorned with delicate icicles, and the ground crunched softly beneath each step, a testament to the frost's gentle grip.
Amidst this frozen tableau, where even nature itself seemed to hold its breath, a solitary figure swung their sword in the training fields. Each movement was sharp and precise, slicing through the snowflakes themselves. The blade sang through the air, a melody of steel and snow, a harmony only elders of top clans could produce.
As the sword arced gracefully through the air, delicate, translucent petals seemed to materialize, trailing the blade like a veil of ethereal beauty. Lee Song Baek held his breath at the beautiful sight. The plum blossoms, rare and elusive, flourished in the harshest of conditions, much like their owner. Lee Song Baek closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the beauty that is Chung Myung.
He had come to these mountains with a purpose, summoned by Mount Hua’s Divine Dragon himself. And yet, instead of calling out to him or announcing his presence, he chose to remain on the sidelines, an admirer of the deadly dance that had defeated hundreds. He didn’t know if it was a gesture of respect or he was just frozen by the artistry.
As the final petals of plum blossoms scattered into the wintry air, Lee Song Baek knew that this encounter would be etched into his memory forever. Long black hair covered Chung Myung’s wide back, sweat trickling down his skin. His eyes glistened as he knew he could push himself further, to grow stronger, better.
‘I love him.’ Lee Song Baek thought, his heart tightening with the weight of his emotions. Chung Myung finally called out to him, and Lee Song Baek blinked, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no doubt that he had noticed Lee Song Baek standing there from the very beginning. The Zhongnan disciple didn’t reply, his fist clenched tightly at his sides.
Without hesitation, Lee Song Baek marched toward the sweating swordsman, stopping just inches away from Chung Myung's face. The shorter man blinked, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise at Lee Song Baek's audacious behavior. Lee Song Baek took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, and then he smiled.
"Let's spar," he said, curtly, his gaze never leaving Chung Myung's. Chung Myung burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the wintry landscape like a bell.
“Right to the point, that’s what I like about you!” Chung Myung exclaimed, his words carrying a carefree charm that tugged at Lee Song Baek's heartstrings. Mixed emotions swirled within him—guilt and joy, anticipation and uncertainty—all dancing in his head like a delicate snowfall.
Yet, the words he longed to say remained unspoken, trapped in the depths of his heart. ‘I like you,’ he thought, as he positioned himself to receive Chung Myung's sword. ‘I like your smile, your joy, your anger, your whole being.’ The truth was undeniable, yet it remained locked away, overshadowed by the weight of duty and expectation.
‘I love you, Chung Myung,’ the silent confession echoed within his soul, a declaration of a love he felt he did not deserve. ‘Punish me for this sin, for I do not deserve any part of you.’ The words remained buried, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air, like the unspoken promise of a love that dared not speak its name.