# Chapter 13
The forest path stretched endlessly ahead, bathed in golden rays of the setting sun. Dust clung to their robes, and the weight of the temple trials still lingered in the silence between them. Even Wei Zhan's usual sarcasm was replaced by quiet focus.
Devran glanced at Tianlan, who was walking beside him, arms folded and eyes fixed on the path. The afternoon heat had left a faint sheen of sweat on Tianlan's brow, and Devran found himself watching the way the dying light caught the sharp line of his jaw. "You've been quiet."
Tianlan raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look at him. "Should I sing instead?"
Devran smirked, the familiar warmth of their banter settling in his chest. "Just saying… the silence is suspicious."
Before Tianlan could snap back, Saanvi's voice called from ahead, "Look!"
At the end of the winding road, nestled at the border between forest and mountain, stood a small wooden inn. Warm lights glowed through its windows like a beacon against the approaching dusk. A faded sign swayed gently in the evening breeze: *Ashvale Inn – Rest for the Weary.*
Vihaan tilted his head, studying the structure with the careful eye of someone who'd learned not to trust convenient appearances. "That wasn't on any map."
Saanvi murmured, "Maybe it was meant to find us." Her voice carried that dreamy quality it sometimes took on when she spoke of fate and destiny.
Wei Zhan stretched his arms above his head, joints popping audibly. "Fate or not, I'm starving. And my feet are killing me."
They approached cautiously. The inn seemed old, but well-maintained. Flowering vines clung to the edges of the wooden beams, and the smell of hot soup drifted through the open doorway, making their stomachs growl in unison. A middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, and greeted them with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
"Travelers! You're just in time. We've got stew on the fire and fresh bread. Rooms are upstairs if you need them."
No questions asked. No strange looks at their travel-worn clothes or the tension that still clung to them like smoke.
Devran felt his shoulders relax for the first time in days.
Inside, the inn was cozy in a way that made homesickness bloom unexpectedly in their chests. Lanterns flickered on the walls, casting a gentle amber glow that softened the hard edges of their faces. A single fireplace crackled in the corner, and the warmth seeped into their bones. They sat at a long table, grateful to rest their feet and lay down the burdens they'd been carrying—both physical and otherwise.
Plates arrived—bowls of hearty stew that actually tasted like home, flatbread still warm from the oven, and spiced tea that filled their noses with cinnamon and cardamom. No one spoke at first. Just the sound of spoons scraping bowls, satisfied sighs, and the gentle thud of boots being kicked off under the table.
Finally, Xie Lian leaned forward, setting down his spoon with a soft clink. "So… where to next?"
Tianlan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a gesture that would have been crude anywhere else but felt natural here. "We still don't know where Master is."
Vihaan added, his voice thoughtful, "The temple gave us more than trials. There was knowledge hidden between the illusions. Symbols, phrases." He paused, as if weighing his words. "One of them… mentioned Solara Cliffs."
Devran frowned, trying to recall what he knew of the place. "That's near the Eastern border, isn't it?"
"Yes," Saanvi confirmed, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden table. "A place once known for spiritual training. It's said to hold memories of divine presence." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "And divine sorrow."
Wei Zhan groaned dramatically, though his eyes held a hint of resigned acceptance. "So, more climbing. Great. My legs are already screaming."
"But if it leads us to Master," Tianlan said quietly, and something in his voice made them all look at him. The usual sharp edge was gone, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. "Then it's worth it."
A moment of silence passed—gentler this time, filled with the comfortable sounds of the inn around them. The fire popped in the hearth, sending up a shower of sparks.
Devran looked around the table, taking in each face illuminated by the warm light. Xie Lian's delicate features, marked by exhaustion but still beautiful. Wei Zhan's careless sprawl that didn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders. Saanvi's gentle smile as she watched them all with those knowing eyes. Vihaan's quiet presence, steady as a mountain. And Tianlan—Tianlan, who was looking anywhere but at him, a faint flush still coloring his cheeks from some earlier moment Devran couldn't quite remember.
"Whatever happens," Devran said, his voice rougher than he intended, "we stick together, yeah?"
"Don't get sentimental," Tianlan muttered, but his fingers drummed against the table—a nervous habit Devran had started to notice. "It doesn't suit you."
Saanvi smiled softly, the expression transforming her entire face. Vihaan, watching her, looked away before their eyes could meet, but not before Devran caught the longing that flickered across his features.
Outside, the night deepened. The stars blinked overhead as the group finally retired to their rooms—each carrying new thoughts, old memories, and the lingering warmth of food and something that might have been hope.
Tomorrow, their journey would begin again.
---
## Glimpses Beneath the Surface
The soft murmur of running water echoed through the room as Tianlan leaned against the windowsill, watching the dark road outside. The lantern beside him flickered, casting restless shadows along the walls. He'd been trying to sort through the events of the day, but his mind kept drifting, circling back to moments that shouldn't have mattered as much as they did.
The bathroom door creaked open behind him.
Tianlan turned instinctively, expecting Devran to say something sarcastic about the inn's questionable plumbing—
And forgot how to breathe.
Devran stepped out with his upper robe hanging loosely from his shoulders, water still beading on his chest and trailing down the defined lines of his abdomen. His hair was damp and tousled, clinging to his neck in ways that made Tianlan's mouth go dry. He moved with unconscious grace, rubbing his head with a towel, completely unaware of the chaos he'd just unleashed.
Tianlan's fingers tightened on the windowsill. His eyes traced the curve of Devran's collarbone, the way the lamplight played across his skin, the small scar just below his left shoulder that Tianlan had never noticed before. He couldn't look away. Couldn't move. Couldn't think of anything except how the hell he'd ended up in this situation.
Devran looked up mid-rub and caught Tianlan's stare. For a moment, they just looked at each other, and Tianlan watched something shift in Devran's expression—surprise melting into something darker, more pleased. A slow, absolutely wicked smile curled at the corner of his lips.
"Admiring the view, are we?"
Tianlan's face burned. "I—I wasn't—" The words stuck in his throat like broken glass.
Devran stepped closer, lowering the towel with deliberate casualness. The movement drew Tianlan's eyes down again, and he bit back a sound that would have been mortifying to make out loud. "You were staring so hard, I thought I'd sprouted wings or something."
"You should cover yourself," Tianlan managed, looking away too fast, too obvious. His heart was hammering against his ribs.
Devran was close enough now that Tianlan could smell the soap on his skin, feel the warmth radiating from his body. When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper, warm against Tianlan's ear. "But you didn't want me to… did you?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Tianlan's breath caught, and he took a step back—only for his knee to bump against the edge of the bed. Devran followed, not touching but close enough that Tianlan could count his eyelashes, close enough that the space between them felt electric.
"I never took you for the shy type," Devran said, his voice lower now, rougher. His eyes were dark in the lamplight, searching Tianlan's face for something—permission, maybe, or understanding.
Tianlan swallowed hard. "I'm not." The words came out hoarse.
Devran's smile softened, became something almost tender. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"
Because of you, Tianlan thought desperately. Because you're looking at me like that, like I'm something worth wanting. Because I can't stop thinking about what it would feel like to close this distance between us.
Instead, he said nothing, just met Devran's gaze and let the truth burn in his eyes.
For a long moment, they stood there, balanced on the edge of something that would change everything. The air between them thrummed with tension, with possibility, with the weight of all the words they weren't saying.
Then Devran stepped back, and Tianlan could breathe again.
"Relax," Devran said, his voice still soft but tinged with something that might have been regret. He reached for his robe, pulling it on with movements that seemed deliberately casual. "I'm not trying to seduce you… not tonight, at least."
Tianlan turned to the window to hide his expression, to hide the way his hands were shaking. "You're impossible."
Devran threw the towel aside and flopped onto the bed, springs creaking under his weight. "And yet," he said, and there was something almost vulnerable in his voice, "you haven't run away."
"No," Tianlan murmured, the word barely audible. "I haven't."
Devran's teasing smile faded, replaced with something softer as he looked at Tianlan's silhouette against the window. In the lamplight, Tianlan looked ethereal, untouchable—but the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers still gripped the windowsill, told a different story.
They were close to something new, something fragile and precious and terrifying. And for the first time in his life, Devran wasn't sure he was brave enough to reach for it.
---
## Scene: The Second Room — The Chaos Continues
Xie Lian had just finished meticulously folding his robes and placing them in a neat corner of the room when he turned—only to find Wei Zhan sprawled across his bed, wearing Xie Lian's spare outer robe like it was his own.
The sight hit him like a physical blow. The robe was too small for Wei Zhan's broader frame, pulling tight across his chest in a way that was both ridiculous and somehow... not entirely unpleasant. Which was a thought Xie Lian immediately tried to banish.
"Why," Xie Lian said, his voice climbing toward something that might have been hysteria, "are you wearing my clothes?"
Wei Zhan struck a pose, arms spread wide. "It's comfortable. Smells like flowers and disapproval."
Xie Lian marched over and started tugging at the robe, trying to pull it off. "You're insufferable."
Wei Zhan laughed, not resisting but not helping either, and somehow they ended up in a brief tussle that left them both breathless and closer than they'd meant to be. "And yet," Wei Zhan said, his voice dropping to something almost serious, "here you are. Sharing a room with me. Fate is funny like that."
Xie Lian finally managed to snatch the robe away, his cheeks flushed with exertion and something else he didn't want to name. As he stormed toward his bed, his foot caught on a boot thrown haphazardly on the floor, and he stumbled.
"Clean up your mess!" he shouted, gesturing wildly at the chaos Wei Zhan had managed to create in the space of twenty minutes.
Wei Zhan kicked the boot under the bed with his toe. "There. Happy now, Your Highness?"
Before Xie Lian could respond, he stepped directly into a puddle of spilled water near the wash basin. The cold seeped through his thin socks immediately, and he made a sound of pure frustration that was almost a sob.
"You spilled water," Xie Lian said, his voice going dangerously quiet, "and didn't wipe it?"
Wei Zhan, who had been pretending to read a scroll upside down, looked up with exaggerated innocence. "It's good for the soul. Builds character."
Xie Lian hurled a towel at his head with more force than was strictly necessary.
Wei Zhan caught it with one hand and smiled smugly, but there was something softer in his eyes as he watched Xie Lian's face flush with indignation. "You know, for someone so delicate, you throw things like a warrior."
"One day," Xie Lian said through gritted teeth, "I will poison your tea."
Wei Zhan's smile widened, became something almost fond. "Joke's on you. I'd drink it anyway—if it was made by you."
The words hung in the air between them, carrying more weight than they should have. Xie Lian stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice, the way his usual cocky grin had softened into something almost tender.
"Go to sleep," Xie Lian said finally, but his voice had lost its edge.
Wei Zhan turned away, still smiling as he settled onto his bed. But even in the dim light, as he lay with his arms behind his head, he glanced at Xie Lian and whispered just loud enough to be heard:
"You're beautiful when you're angry, Little Lotus."
Xie Lian's pillow hit the wall with a satisfying thump, but he didn't throw another one.
---
## Under the Stars: Healing and Longing
Later that night, Xie Lian stepped out onto the small veranda, letting the cool night air wash over his heated skin. The sky above was clear, studded with stars that seemed impossibly bright after the close confines of the room. He needed space to think, to sort through the tangle of emotions that Wei Zhan always seemed to stir up in him.
To his surprise, Saanvi was already there, leaning against the wooden railing with her face tilted up to the stars. She was humming softly, a melody that seemed to drift on the night air like a lullaby.
"Couldn't sleep either?" Xie Lian asked, settling beside her.
Saanvi smiled, the expression soft and knowing. "Too many thoughts. You?"
Xie Lian shrugged, not trusting his voice to explain the complicated mess of feelings currently occupying his chest. "Same."
They stood in comfortable silence, watching the stars wheel overhead. The night was peaceful, filled with the gentle sounds of the forest settling around them—the distant call of an owl, the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Then Saanvi turned to look at him, and her expression shifted. "You're hurt."
Xie Lian blinked, following her gaze to where she was staring at his arm. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."
"That's not a scratch." Her voice had taken on the no-nonsense tone she used when treating injuries. "Lift your sleeve. Now."
Xie Lian sighed but obeyed, wincing as the fabric pulled away from the wound. A long cut stretched across his upper arm, deeper than he'd realized, the edges red and angry-looking.
"Why didn't you say something?" Saanvi demanded, already pulling out her small bag of herbs and ointments. "Idiot."
"I forgot," Xie Lian said weakly, which was partially true. He'd been so focused on Wei Zhan's chaos that he'd pushed the pain to the back of his mind.
Saanvi made a disapproving sound as she began cleaning the wound with practiced efficiency. Her touch was gentle but firm, and she worked with the kind of focused attention that made Xie Lian feel like he was the only person in the world who mattered.
"You take care of everyone," she said softly, not looking up from her work. "Let someone take care of you for once."
The words hit him unexpectedly hard. Xie Lian smiled, but it felt fragile around the edges. "You sound like an older sister."
"Then listen to your sister," Saanvi said, wrapping the wound with clean bandages, "and stop acting like you're indestructible."
From the shadows of the hallway, Vihaan stood silently, watching them. His eyes were fixed on Saanvi's face, taking in the gentle concentration, the way her hair caught the starlight, the small furrow between her brows as she worked. There was something achingly tender in his expression, a longing so profound it was almost painful to witness.
He'd been coming to check on them, worried about the day's events and the trials ahead. But seeing Saanvi like this—caring and competent and beautiful in the starlight—made his chest tighten with emotions he didn't know how to name.
When she smiled at something Xie Lian said, Vihaan's heart did something complicated in his chest. He wanted to step forward, to be the one she was tending to, to be the one who made her smile like that. But he also wanted to protect this moment, to keep it safe and untouched by his own complicated feelings.
So he stayed in the shadows, watching and wanting, until they finally went back inside. Only then did he retreat to his own room, carrying the image of Saanvi's smile like a secret flame in his chest.