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The midday sun filtered through the gaps in the thatched roof of Puqi Shrine, casting long, dusty beams of gold across the worn floorboards. Outside, the autumn breeze rustled through the village trees, carrying the crisp scent of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke. Inside, a rare, tranquil silence prevailed—a quiet sweetness that felt entirely unearned by the ghosts of the past, yet deeply cherished in the present.
Xie Lian sat cross-legged at the small wooden table, a soft, fond smile playing on his lips. He rested his chin in his palm, his eyes drifting over the two young people sitting opposite him.
Between Banyue and Pei Xiu sat a massive wicker basket, piled high with fresh, wild greens, wild radishes, and plump roots they had spent the entire morning harvesting from the nearby hills. Seeing them like this—stripped of their heavy military armor, their crushing titles, and the centuries of grief that had once dictated their lives—warmed Xie Lian to his very core. He had invited them to the shrine for the week for exactly this reason: to give them a space where they didn't have to be soldiers, traitors, or exiles. They could just be human.
Pei Xiu held a small silver paring knife, his posture rigidly straight. Even in his plain, dark mortal robes, he sat as if he were still a heavily decorated martial god standing at attention in the Great Martial Hall. His brow was furrowed in intense, unwavering concentration as he sliced a wild radish.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Each slice was exactly the same width, perfectly uniform down to the millimeter.
"You don't have to cut them so precisely, A-Xiu," Xie Lian said gently, his voice breaking the silence like a soothing balm. "It is only for a simple evening stew. There are no heavenly officials to impress here."
Pei Xiu froze, his knife hovering a fraction of an inch above the cutting board. He blinked, a faint, embarrassed flush creeping up his neck and touching his cheekbones. He ducked his head, his shoulders tightening. "General. My apologies. I only wished to ensure... uniform cooking times. I did not mean to fuss."
Banyue, who was sitting with her knees tucked tightly to her chest in her usual quiet ball, shifted slightly. She reached out with a small, dirt-stained hand, her dark purple robes rustling. With careful fingers, she took one of the neatly diced pieces from Pei Xiu’s pile and dropped it into the clay pot.
"It is good," she murmured, her voice quiet but entirely steady. She looked up at Pei Xiu through the dark fringe of her hair. "Pei Xiu’s cuts are always beautiful. I like them."
Pei Xiu’s shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch—a monumental shift in posture for someone who usually carried the weight of the world. The rigid line of his jaw relaxed, and he gave her a small, grateful nod. "Thank you, Banyue. I will... try to be less rigid."
Xie Lian’s heart swelled. They were like two young plants finally finding sunlight after centuries under a heavy stone.
Suddenly, a streak of stark white fabric shot out from Xie Lian’s sleeve.
Ruoye uncoiled itself with an enthusiastic, playful snap. Instead of flying off to secure the drafty front door or search the village for scrap metal, the sentient silk band glided through the air like a tiny, joyful dragon. It wove a lazy figure-eight around the two youth, its fabric rippling with excitement.
Banyue didn't flinch. Having spent so much time around Xie Lian's chaotic household, she simply tilted her head. She slowly raised an open palm. Ruoye, sensing her gentle energy, sailed over and nuzzled its fabric tip directly into her hand, mimicking the behavior of a pleased cat.
A tiny, incredibly rare smile tugged at the corners of Banyue's lips. She began to gently stroke the silk, her fingers smoothing out the wrinkles in the cloth. "It feels nice. Like warm wind."
"Ah, looks like Ruoye wanted to join the conversation," Xie Lian chuckled, adjusting his robes. "It has been lonely lately. San Lang has been away in Ghost City handling affairs for a few days, so Ruoye has had no one to pester."
Hearing the mention of the Supreme Ghost King, Pei Xiu instantly focused a strict, guarded gaze onto the silk band, as if assessing a tactical threat.
Ruoye seemed to take this intense stare as a personal challenge. With a sudden woosh, the silk band zipped away from Banyue and wrapped itself snugly around Pei Xiu’s right wrist. It didn't squeeze tightly enough to bind him, but it gave a firm, playful tug upward.
"W-What—" Pei Xiu stiffened completely, his eyes darting to Xie Lian in a panic. He held the paring knife perfectly still, terrified of accidentally cutting the spiritual weapon. "General? Is it... issuing a challenge of strength? Should I engage?"
"No, A-Xiu," Xie Lian laughed softly, shaking his head at the boy's endless seriousness. "It likes you. It wants you to relax your arm. You're holding that knife like you're about to face a horde of fierce corpses."
Pei Xiu looked from Xie Lian down to his own hand, then at the soft white fabric coiled affectionately around his sleeve. He let out a long, slow breath, consciously forcing the tension to leave his muscles. The moment his arm went slack, Ruoye gave a satisfied, approving pat against his knuckles.
Then, acting entirely on its own mischievous whims, Ruoye extended itself, looping around Banyue's shoulders before stretching over to drape across Pei Xiu’s neck as well. It settled over them like a shared, comforting scarf, gently binding them together in a loose embrace.
Banyue blinked, looking down at the white silk bridging the small gap between them. She looked at Pei Xiu, and for the first time in a very long time, the lingering shadow of the Yong'an battlefields and the Gobi desert seemed to entirely vanish from her eyes. She leaned a fraction of an inch closer to him, accepting the warmth of the shared blanket.
"Next time," Banyue said softly, looking at the basket of greens. "When the sun is not so hot... we can find the sweet berries by the river. I saw them yesterday."
Pei Xiu looked back at her, the corners of his lips turning up into a genuine, soft smile that reached his eyes. "I would like that very much, Banyue. We can go tomorrow morning."
Xie Lian watched them, a profound sense of peace settling deep into his chest. The world outside Puqi Shrine was vast, chaotic, and often cruel, but inside these drafty wooden walls, the future looked entirely bright.