The fire crackled softly.
Qing'er sat beside it, knees drawn close to her chest. The night air was cold, but the unease in her heart was colder.
She had given the order to kill.
Ji Xuan was dead.
The world felt heavier now.
She had thought ending him would bring relief. But in the quiet of the night, her mind replayed his last moments over and over.
"Righteousness means nothing if you're dead."
Yao Yan's words lingered.
She shivered.
A warm cloak suddenly draped over her shoulders.
She turned.
Yao Yan sat beside her, golden eyes watching the flames. His presence was effortless, yet unwavering.
"Can't sleep?" His voice was low, soothing.
Qing'er hesitated.
"…No."
Yao Yan smirked faintly. "Scared?"
She frowned but said nothing.
Yao Yan sighed. "Master, if you regret it—"
"I don't." She cut him off, surprising even herself.
Yao Yan raised an eyebrow.
Qing'er looked away, tightening her grip on the cloak. "I just… It's the first time I ordered someone's death."
A beat of silence.
Then—warmth.
Yao Yan's hand rested on her head, ruffling her white hair gently.
"You did what was necessary," he murmured.
Qing'er blinked.
"Stop overthinking," he continued. "As long as I'm here, no one will ever harm you."
His voice was unshakable. A vow, not just words.
Qing'er felt the tightness in her chest ease.
Silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
After a moment, she spoke again. "…Yao Yan."
"Hm?"
"Why do you care so much about my safety?"
Yao Yan chuckled. "Well, you are my master."
Qing'er rolled her eyes. "Not that."
Yao Yan's smirk faded slightly. He stared into the fire, his gaze distant.
After a long pause, he said, "I was betrayed once."
Qing'er's breath caught.
Yao Yan leaned back, golden eyes reflecting the flames. "By my own master. My sect. My so-called comrades."
He exhaled.
"They used me. Feared me. And when they saw that I had surpassed them, they tried to kill me."
Qing'er watched him closely.
For the first time, Yao Yan looked… tired.
"And they succeeded," he added with a dry chuckle.
The firelight flickered against his sharp features, making him seem both unkillable and deeply human.
Qing'er understood him then.
He wasn't just protecting her because she was his master.
He was protecting her because he refused to let history repeat itself.
She looked at him differently now.
Not just as a sword spirit.
Not just as a companion.
But as someone who had suffered, someone who had no one left.
And yet, here he was.
Loyal. Unwavering. By her side.
For once, she didn't find his presence annoying.
Instead—it was comforting.
Qing'er adjusted the cloak around herself and, without thinking, leaned slightly against his shoulder.
Yao Yan stiffened for half a second.
Then, he chuckled softly.
"Finally warming up to me, Master?"
Qing'er huffed. "Don't ruin the moment."
Yao Yan smirked, but he said nothing more.
The night stretched on.
For the first time since Ji Xuan's death, Qing'er felt at peace.
And as long as Yao Yan was beside her—she knew she would be safe.