He sat her down in front of him, the polished wooden chair creaking under her weight. His gaze, sharp as a blade forged from cold steel, pinned her in place, slicing through the air like an unseen wind. For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the quiet sigh escaping him broke the heavy silence, vibrating softly through the sunlit classroom.
"I never realized you could be this foolish… this lazy. How could you come this far without even learning to read or write? What a hopeless girl you are." His words were steady, precise—like a surgeon cutting at truth—but carried a weight that made her chest tighten.
Huo Feng frowned, a mixture of defiance and embarrassment rippling across her features. Her voice trembled, but not with fear—pride tempered it, like steel glinting under the sun.
"I'm not lazy, and I'm not hopeless. Give me a day—no, a few days—and you'll see what I can do."
He raised an eyebrow, his expression theatrically surprised, as if the words were a rare gem unearthed from the dust.
"Fine. I'll grant you until the next examination. But if you fail… I'll punish you for every single trouble you've caused since the day you stepped into this academy."
Her eyes dimmed, the spark of hope dampened by the weight of his stern judgment. She turned away, muttering softly under her breath, almost to herself,
"As if you haven't punished me enough already…"
He froze mid-step. Her words—soft, almost fragile—hit him like a physical blow. Before she could take another step, his hand grasped her shoulder, spinning her around with more force than he intended. His voice was firm, carrying authority, yet beneath it lay an unfamiliar uncertainty, a chink in his usual armor.
"I never meant to hurt you in the last test. Protecting that beast was my duty—it left no room for hesitation."
A bitter laugh escaped her, sharp and cold, echoing faintly in the still room.
"Hurt me? You've been doing that since the very beginning."
His grip tightened, an almost imperceptible tremor betraying his frustration.
"When? Tell me when I ever did that. Is that why you've been avoiding me all this time?"
Her gaze drifted away, eyes clouded with memories she could not unsee. Her voice, soft but laced with pain, cut through the air like a whispering wind,
"You're doing it again right now. So why bother pretending?"
He let her go immediately, words of apology forming in his throat but dissolving before they could escape.
She walked toward the door, her back straight, voice low but firm,
"I'll forgive you for what just happened… but what you did before—neither time nor forgiveness will erase it."
And just like that, she disappeared, leaving him standing in the quiet room, drowning in a swirl of regret and unspoken emotions—unsure which he truly felt.
The next morning, Huo Feng darted toward the academy, her steps light, almost as if the wind carried her. The morning air was crisp, scented faintly with dew and blooming cherry trees lining the path. She expected solitude, but Yue was already waiting, poised like a gentle guardian in the soft light of dawn.
Yue had arrived early, eager to teach Huo Feng how to read before the first class bell. Huo Feng tried to refuse, offering a bright, playful smile, but Yue would not relent. She grasped Huo Feng's hands firmly and guided her inside the classroom, the wooden floor cool under their feet. Opening a book on the desk, she said with soft determination,
"I'll read each word slowly," she explained, "then write it down for you. You'll copy every stroke exactly as I do."
Huo Feng squirmed in her seat, a blush of embarrassment warming her cheeks.
"You don't have to go through all that trouble, I—"
Before she could finish, Yue had already flipped open another book by mistake. Huo Feng's curiosity drew her eyes to the pages, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of the cover.
"This writing is so beautiful. Is this yours? Where did you get it?"
Yue's cheeks flamed crimson, her hands snapping out to snatch it back.
"That's… that's my diary, you little troublemaker!"
Huo Feng tilted her head, tilting her curiosity like a delicate balance.
"Diary? What's that?"
"It's a book where I write everything I've been through," Yue explained softly, her voice gentle but weighted with care. "So I won't forget. My parents say I'm forgetful—they even call me the magical eraser."
Huo Feng let out a wistful sigh, her gaze distant for a fleeting moment.
"I wish I could forget that easily. But no matter—starting today, I'll write my own memories too… only the happy ones. The sad ones are already carved into my heart."
Yue's lips curved in a tender smile, moved by the depth of her words.
"That's a wonderful reason to learn. Come on, let's start."
But Huo Feng's thoughts had already flown elsewhere. She slipped from the classroom quietly, her feet barely making a sound on the polished wood. She raced toward her secret place—a vast, ancient tree that rose above a drifting pink cloud north of the kingdom, its trunk wide and welcoming. Her pulse raced with excitement, the wind tugging at her hair, whispering secrets she alone could hear.
Pressing her palm to the trunk, she greeted it gently, murmuring her heart's contents. Each word glimmered faintly, etched into the bark as if the tree drank in her memories, feeding on her laughter, her sorrows, her fleeting joys. The blossoms above shimmered, petals shifting colors with each emotion that danced across her face.
When she finally lifted her gaze, realizing how much time had slipped by, she kissed the trunk lightly, whispering a quiet promise to return soon.
By the time she returned to the classroom, breathless yet radiant with joy, the air vibrated with her energy. Wu Xin's sharp eyes locked onto hers instantly, cold and piercing. His voice cut through the soft rustle of papers and murmurs like a whip.
"I didn't expect such obedience from you. You're actually on time—just as you promised Teacher Li."
Her lips curved teasingly.
"I never break a promise—especially to my teacher. He is the kindest one I've ever had, after all."
Li blushed slightly, a rare, soft warmth coloring his expression, but Wu Xin wasn't finished.
"And when," he asked coldly, "did you ever have another teacher besides him?"
Huo Feng's eyes dimmed, her head lowering, a shadow of memories brushing her features.
"A long time ago… I had a teacher. Gentle, kind… sweet in every way. But…" She paused, lifting her gaze slowly, sorrow softening the light in her eyes.
"He accused me of poisoning him. The trust between us vanished… in the blink of an eye."
Teacher Li's smile faltered, guilt flickering briefly in his eyes. He cleared his throat, shifting the conversation with practiced ease.
"You were supposed to study with Yue this morning. Why didn't you? Don't tell me you've gone lazy again, hmm?"
Huo Feng smiled shyly, warmth radiating from her despite the early hour.
"I didn't need to."
Wu Xin crossed his arms, voice sharp as steel.
"So now you break promises as well?"
"I don't break promises," she replied calmly, her tone a steady current in the room. "Nor do I break vows. I simply… learned to read and write last night. Yue didn't give me the chance to tell her."
The classroom fell silent, the weight of disbelief hanging like fog. No one believed her—especially Mei Ling, who burst into laughter, sharp and incredulous.
"You liar! I didn't know you were that kind of girl."
Huo Feng turned toward her, unbothered, eyes calm and steady.
"I never lie. Unlike you. And yes—I memorized every book in the kingdom last night."
Mei Ling shot up, her face twisting with fury.
"Arrogant and delusional! Do you expect us to believe that?"
Huo Feng's expression softened, her gaze dropping. A quiet humility tempered her pride.
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to lie."
Mei Ling smirked, triumphant.
"See? I told you she's full of lies!"
But no one in the room believed her. There was too much sincerity in Huo Feng's voice… too much light in her eyes. She looked back up, meeting Mei Ling's glare steadily.
"You're right," she said gently. "I didn't memorize every book. I was missing one."
Then she turned toward Wu Xin.
"The one that fell asleep in your arms last night."
Wu Xin's eyes narrowed, narrowing into a line of cold focus. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his robe and produced the very same book—placing it carefully in her hands. Their gazes locked, a silent command passing between them, heavy with unspoken understanding.
"Then read."