The meal had long finished, but neither of them made a move to leave. The plates were empty, yet the fragrance of tea still drifted faintly in the air. Elder Yao sat with one arm resting on the table, her gaze half-lidded as if lost in thought. The lanterns outside the window burned dimly, their glow soft against the night.
A quiet moment stretched between them before she finally spoke.
"I thought you didn't like being in the spotlight," she said lightly, her voice carrying that familiar hint of amusement. "So what changed your mind?"
Lao Xie swirled the tea in his cup before taking a slow sip. "I still don't." He glanced up, meeting her eyes with that calm, unreadable smile of his. "But avoiding it completely would be boring, wouldn't it?"
She scoffed softly, the corners of her lips curving. "Boring, huh? You sound more like a young man than you think."
He leaned back lazily. "And you sound like someone who enjoys watching it happen."
That earned him a short laugh, and for a brief moment, the atmosphere softened again. The air between them carried something unspoken — not tension, but familiarity, like an old rhythm neither needed to explain.
After a while, Elder Yao rested her chin on her hand. "How did you know it was me, that day — when I tried to pry into your cultivation?"
Lao Xie tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in mild amusement. "Ah, that." His voice dropped lower, carrying a faint tease. "Let's just say… I have my ways. Besides, the only one who would bother doing that quietly… was you."
Her brows drew together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He smiled, slow and deliberate. "Everyone has their own secrets, Elder Yao."
That made her exhale through her nose, almost in disbelief. "You're calling me Elder Yao? That's way too formal. The Lao Xie I know would never call me that. Are you okay? You really like talking in circles that much, don't you?"
She narrowed her eyes, studying him closer. "Like how you're at the 6th stage of Qi Refining?"
Lao Xie didn't confirm nor deny. Instead, his expression softened into a faint grin. "Seems I can't hide anything from you."
Her lips twitched. "Anything?"
Then, with a low chuckle, she added under her breath, "Your ass…"
Lao Xie laughed quietly, a rare sound that carried warmth beneath its edge. "Careful, Elder Yao. Someone might misunderstand."
"Misunderstand what?" she shot back, her tone deliberately sharp, though her eyes were gleaming. "That you're hiding more than you're willing to admit?"
He leaned forward slightly, the distance between them closing just enough for his words to sound almost intimate. "Now that," he murmured, "depends on who's asking."
For a moment, she went still — caught between amusement and something she couldn't quite name. The silence after that wasn't heavy, it was layered, full of quiet understanding neither tried to put into words.
Outside, the lanterns flickered softly, casting their shadows across the tea cups between them.
After their teasing exchange, the conversation slowed, the air turning softer.
Elder Yao poured more tea, almost absentmindedly, as they drifted into lighter talk — about the sect's politics, the endless gossip among the younger disciples, and how the outer court had changed over the years.
Lao Xie listened quietly, his tone calm, but every now and then he slipped in a sly remark that made her laugh. Their rhythm felt natural — easy — as if time itself had paused to let them speak. He teased without pushing; she scolded without meaning it. It was a balance only they could hold.
At one point, Elder Yao leaned back against her chair, her expression softening. "It's strange," she murmured. "I can't tell if you're the same Lao Xie I've known since you were a kid."
Lao Xie's lips curved faintly, his gaze lingering on the tea's reflection. "Who knows," he said quietly. "Maybe I am, or maybe not."
Outside, the night deepened. The voices from the lower floor had long faded, leaving only the faint hum of cicadas and the warm flicker of lantern light spilling across the wooden floor.
Their conversation continued, not quite serious but no longer casual either. There was weight behind each word — subtle, careful, like two blades testing their edges.
Elder Yao's eyes studied him again, her voice lowering slightly. "You use a sword like someone who's seen real blood before. Who taught you?"
Lao Xie's gaze didn't waver. "Does it matter who taught me?"
She held his eyes in silence for a moment — steady, searching — but the longer she looked, the more she realized he wasn't deflecting to hide; he was simply choosing not to be known.
Then, with a quiet smile, Lao Xie leaned back slightly. "You've been watching me more than the other elders," he said. "You should know me enough to say it was all self-taught."
Elder Yao exhaled, her lips twitching. "That's what I'd like to believe…" Her tone turned quieter, almost thoughtful. "…but you cultivate too fast. Months ago, you couldn't even form qi properly, and now—look at you. Sixth stage of Qi Refining."
Lao Xie's lips curved faintly, his gaze steady on her. "Maybe I was simply… lucky," he said, the words gentle yet elusive.
Elder Yao arched a brow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Lucky, hm? That sounds like something you'd say to dodge a question."
He chuckled quietly, leaning back with that unhurried ease of his. "Then perhaps I've been learning from you all this time."
She rolled her eyes, though her expression softened. "You never change, do you?"
"Sometimes," he said, eyes flicking toward the window where the night wind stirred the paper lanterns. "But not tonight."
For a while, neither spoke. The restaurant had gone silent, only the faint hum of cicadas filled the still air.
Then Lao Xie rose slowly from his seat. "It's getting late," he said, glancing toward the door. "But the night's too calm to waste sitting here. Care to walk a bit?"
Elder Yao blinked, a little surprised by the sudden suggestion. "At this hour?"
He smiled faintly, voice calm and smooth. "Afraid someone might see?"
Her lips twitched, half a sigh and half a laugh. "You're bold, you know that?"
"I've been told," he said, his tone easy but his eyes holding hers for just a heartbeat longer.
She stood, brushing off her sleeve. "Fine. Lead the way."
The night air was cool when they stepped outside. The lanterns along the path flickered gently in the breeze, their glow painting shifting shadows over the stone walkway.
For a while, they walked in comfortable silence. The faint chirp of crickets, the distant rustle of leaves — all of it settled around them like a quiet veil.
Elder Yao's steps were light, her hands clasped behind her back. "You shouldn't be inviting an elder out like this," she said eventually, a teasing note in her voice though her tone carried something careful beneath it. "You should be walking with Ruxin instead, not me."
Lao Xie's answer came with a low chuckle. "It's just a walk," he said, his tone playfully soft. "And right now, I'm walking with you — not her."