"You boys aren't leaving?" their mother asked at the dinner table, her eyes flicking between Feng Jian and Feng Bo.
The brothers shook their heads. "We told our wives we'd stay awhile to search for Jet," Feng Jian said, his tone calm and convincing.
"Stay?" Their mother frowned. "But Jet is home now, isn't he?"
"Yes, but we're worried about his health," Feng Bo chimed in, matching his brother's sincerity. "We want to make sure he's doing well before we leave."
Their mother blinked in surprise. Such sudden kindness from her elder sons toward their younger brother was rare, to say the least. Still, she chose to play along, giving them a small nod.
Jet, however, wasn't convinced. He eyed his brothers suspiciously from across the table. The idea of them staying felt off—too convenient. They'd spent most of his life causing him trouble, not offering support. Now they wanted to care for him? He sighed, suppressing the urge to speak his mind. Instead, he focused on his meal, though his appetite dwindled.
The tension in the room eased slightly after dinner when Feng Zhi announced his departure. He had stayed just long enough to settle the earlier dispute but was eager to return home to his wife and daughter.
Later that night, Jet crept downstairs, craving a drink of water. He froze mid-step when he spotted his parents sitting at the dining table, deep in conversation. Instinctively, he pressed himself against the wall, hiding in the shadows as their words reached his ears.
"I'm worried about him," his father said, his voice heavy with concern. "The rumours are getting worse, and the family that welcomed us is considering cutting ties."
His mother sighed. "I know, dear. But they're just rumours. You can't believe everything people say."
"I understand, but…" His father paused, his frustration evident. "The villagers have been talking. Some of them want us to throw him out—to disown him. They're calling him a disgrace to the Feng name."
Jet's breath caught in his throat. He clapped a hand over his mouth, his heart racing as the weight of his father's words sank in.
"Surely not?" his mother whispered, her worry growing.
"They did," his father confirmed grimly. "And Feng Jian and Feng Bo… they're letting the rumors get to them. They told me they want to find the Alpha. But we don't even know if he exists or if he's truly Jet's friend."
"What?" His mother's voice sharpened. "Are you saying the Alpha in question is Jet's friend?"
"Who else could it be?" his father said, shaking his head. "I'll leave at sunrise to ask around. We need answers."
Jet's legs felt like jelly as he slowly backed away, careful not to make a sound. His mind spun. They were after Han. They believed the rumors.
He retreated to his room, shutting the door behind him. Leaning against it, he struggled to catch his breath. 'I have to find Han,' he thought. 'I have to warn him before Father finds out.'
But another thought plagued him. If he left in the morning, his father would notice his absence. He scratched his head, anxiety and exhaustion tangling together.
Finally, he decided. He'd wait until the afternoon to search for Han. Sleep came fitfully, his dreams haunted by the echoes of the conversation he wasn't meant to hear.
—-
The fluffy snow crunched beneath Jet's feet as he made his way toward their usual spot. His heart raced with a mix of anticipation and unease, hoping Han would be there waiting for him like always. Despite his worries, he clung to the thought of their usual hangouts, letting the memory soothe him.
When he reached the pavilion, a wave of relief washed over him. Han sat there, engrossed in a book—Jet's novel, no less. The sight brought a small smile to Jet's lips.
Han glanced up from the pages, his gaze falling on Jet as he approached. "Took you long enough," Han teased, a soft smile playing on his lips.
Jet chuckled as he joined him. "What are you reading?"
"Your masterpiece," Han replied, holding up the book. "I was trying to make sense of some of your idioms, though. Care to explain?"
Jet laughed, shaking his head before sitting down beside him. Patiently, he walked Han through the meanings, his explanations filled with warmth.
After a while, Han grinned. "You're pretty good at teaching. Now if only you could wield a sword as well as you write."
Jet rolled his eyes. "Keep hoping. Like you said, some people belong with books, while others wish they could have them."
"Was that aimed at me?" Han raised an eyebrow, his teasing tone evident.
"Maybe," Jet quipped, his grin widening.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the crisp air around them filled with quiet laughter and soft banter. But soon, the words on the page grew dull, and Han set the book aside.
"Come on," he said, suddenly pulling Jet to his feet.
"Han, what are you—" Jet's words were cut off as they stumbled together, tumbling down the hill into a thick pile of snow.
When they finally surfaced, their faces dusted with frost, both burst into laughter.
"What are you planning to do?" Jet asked between breaths, his cheeks red from the cold.
"This!" Han said with a mischievous grin, grabbing a handful of snow.
Before Jet could react, a snowball hit him square in the face. He gasped, shivering but unable to stop laughing.
"Han!" Jet exclaimed, trying to stand.
But Han was relentless, pelting him with snowballs before he could retaliate.
"Not fair!" Jet called out, forming his own snowball.
"Totally fair!" Han replied, already throwing another.
Jet finally managed to hurl one back, hitting Han square in the chest. The battle escalated as they ran around the snow-covered field, tripping and tumbling into the soft white blanket beneath them.
Eventually, they collapsed side by side, breathless and laughing, the cold snow beneath them a comforting cushion.
A peaceful silence settled over them, broken only by their soft breathing.
"Do you tame wolves?" Jet asked suddenly, recalling the night of his escape.
Han shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "Not really. I just fed them the old bones from my cooking. They started listening to me after that."
"Isn't that special?" Jet chuckled.
"I suppose it is," Han replied, his voice thoughtful. The silence returned briefly before he spoke again.
"Do you think… we've been friends in other lifetimes?"
Jet turned to him, startled by the question. But as he thought about it, a warm smile spread across his face.
"I think so," Jet said softly. "Maybe we've earned enough merits to meet again in this lifetime. Don't you think?"
Han nodded, his eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction. "That sounds about right."
They sat quietly, watching the sun dip below the horizon.
"It sets so fast," Han mused. "Time always flies when you're with someone you care about."
Jet smiled, shaking his head. "Can't argue with that. But I should head back soon. If I don't, my brothers will lose their minds."
"Let's go, then," Han said, helping Jet to his feet.
As they walked back together, the warmth of their laughter lingered in the air, even as the chill of the evening began to settle in.
—-
"He's here."