After class ended, Huo Feng fluttered away like a butterfly, her movements light, almost weightless, as if the wind itself carried her along. The corridors of the academy stretched and shimmered in the soft afternoon sun, the marble floors reflecting shards of gold and amber. Each step was accompanied by the faint echo of her shoes and the whisper of her robe brushing against the walls. Her destination: her father Jin Hai's palace, and the one treasure she sought there — the Blossom of Emotions, the magical flower he had tended as though it were sacred.
You might wonder, "Why that flower?"
Because it was his wife who had planted it upon their land, nurturing it with painstaking care, as though it were her very life. When she had been cruelly taken, the flower grieved with a heart of its own — its petals drooped, its vibrant hues dulled, tears of nectar spilling onto the soil. It nearly succumbed to sorrow's weight. But Jin Hai, unwilling to lose another soul, had saved it for both the sake of his daughter and the memory of his beloved. He had carried it to the Heavenly Realm, tending to it with devotion equal to raising a child, cradling it, whispering to it, ensuring it bloomed despite grief.
Huo Feng searched the palace gardens for hours, her small hands brushing over leaves, soil, and stone, every corner scoured with meticulous care. Fragrant petals brushed her fingers, scents of jasmine, rose, and wild herbs mingling in the warm air, yet the Blossom of Emotions remained elusive. Her gaze swept over trellises, fountains, and shaded alcoves, eyes narrowing as if trying to force the memory of its location into her mind. Still, it eluded her.
Finally, weary and discouraged, she sought her grandfather, the Furnace Master. His eyes, deep and knowing, regarded her silently before he spoke: after Jin Hai's death, Grand Master Wu Xin had taken the flower — though he had no knowledge of its fate afterward.
Huo Feng's chest tightened at the thought of confronting him. She had sworn never to step into Wu Xin's presence again, ever since the day of punishment. The memory of his doubt, his harshness, his merciless judgment, still seared her mind. Even imagining his garden again made her stomach churn, every step toward it heavy with hesitation.
Yet fate, as it often did, had its own sense of irony.
She froze mid-step, nostrils flaring as a familiar scent — a delicate blend of sun-warmed earth and faint incense — brushed past her. It was a fragrance that peeled away the fog that had long clouded her thoughts, stirring something deep within. Her heart skipped a beat. Slowly, realization dawned: her feet had carried her, unbidden, straight into Wu Xin's garden.
Her pulse quickened, each heartbeat reverberating through her chest like a drum of warning. How could this happen? And yet, with every breath, a strange calm seeped into her bones — a treacherous warmth, like sunlight spilling over a cold river. Her spirit quieted, her mind cleared, and the bitterness that had clung to her heart seemed to ebb, if only slightly.
Guided by instinct, she let her senses reach out, searching for the subtle presence of her flower. Soon, they led her to a familiar vessel — a broken porcelain vase that had once occupied his room. Its jagged edges caught the sunlight, revealing a history of fracture and neglect.
Her brows furrowed. That vase…?
She had seen it before, shattered and empty, a symbol of loss. But now, to her astonishment, her flower thrived there, radiant and alive, hiding all along in plain sight.
In that instant, she realized a truth that startled her: even eyes can deceive; she was no angel after all.
She approached the vase cautiously, her fingertips brushing its smooth surface with a tenderness that mirrored the care she had witnessed in her father's hands. Closing her eyes, she whispered softly:"I'm truly sorry for what I did to you… but I had no other choice."
A quiet pause followed, broken by a spark of joy blooming across her face."You've forgiven me, haven't you? Thank you… truly."
She smiled shyly at the flower, her voice trembling with affection."And you, little one… you must forgive me too, for what I'm about to do. I have no choice."
With serene certainty, she plucked the blossom from its stem. In an almost magical instant, another tiny bloom sprouted beside it, radiant, vibrant, and full of life. Joy surged through her chest, a warmth that filled every fiber of her being. She cradled the new flower carefully, promising aloud to care for it with all her heart.
But before she could take another step, a voice — warm, familiar, achingly close — called her name.
She turned sharply.
He was there.
Wu Xin stood behind her, still as a shadow, his breath caught as his gaze drank her in. She's here… in my chambers… after all that happened. Has she forgiven me?
The thought barely formed before he spoke, softer than she had ever heard him:"Little thief… how do you plan to care for a flower you've just plucked?"
Without hesitation, her reply was as disarmingly simple as ever:"The same way the 'great thief' once did."
He blinked, confusion flickering across his features."Do you mean… me? You think I stole it?"
A laugh burst from her chest — light, pure, rising unbidden. It startled even him, spilling into the garden, lifting the weight of tension like morning mist dissipating under sunlight. In that laughter, Huo Feng's entire world seemed to brighten, colors sharper, air sweeter.
Wu Xin's voice followed, thick with bittersweet warmth:"An old friend entrusted it to me. I only kept it safe — inside something I treasured most."
He brushed a hand gently over the vase, eyes shadowed with sorrow before softening into calm.
"So then, little thief… how will you defend yourself for this crime?"
Her chin lifted, pride igniting her stance."I only borrowed it, great thief. And look — it's blooming again! You've no reason to complain."
His composure cracked; he seized her wrist, voice rising:"Why are you always so insolent with me? Why not speak to me as you do with Master Li or Suo?"
Her gaze met his, unwavering, piercing."And why are you always so angry whenever you see me? Why can't you treat me the way you treat your precious pet, Mei Ling? Or is pain the only thing you know how to give me?"
With a sharp pull, she freed her hand and turned toward the door. At the threshold, she glanced back, eyes alight with defiance."Don't expect anything from me but the same. Or worse. You've earned it."
Anger, grief, and unspoken longing twisted inside her chest as she ran, the wind carrying her through the palace grounds, until her heart found refuge beneath the ancient Tree of Life. She pressed a trembling palm to its trunk, feeling the rough bark beneath her fingers, and whispered her burden:"Every time I try to forget him, something strikes me — unseen, relentless. It's as if forgiveness itself refuses to let go. As if forgetting is forbidden."
Her voice quivered, heavy with emotion."I wanted to forgive him. Truly. To overlook what's past — and maybe even what's to come. But only if he'd open his heart to me again… if he'd trust me once more. But that's impossible — not while she's around… that Mei Ling!"
She lowered her head, tears glistening in the sunlight."I don't know what to do anymore. When I draw near, his anger burns me. When I keep away, the cold consumes me."
Her words drifted into silence. The Tree of Life, her silent confessor, seemed to shiver with understanding, its leaves paling as if reflecting her despair.
With trembling resolve, Huo Feng pleaded:"I'm sorry for burdening you with my pain. Please… stay strong, so I can draw strength from you. You're all I have left."
The tree responded, shimmering as if touched by a gentle wind. Its leaves burst back into lush, vibrant green, swaying with renewed life, as though infused with hope and love.
Huo Feng smiled through tears, a mixture of relief and determination."You see? You're better already! Oh, and I haven't told you yet — there's going to be a talent feast soon. I've decided to make my father's enchanted tea, and this lovely flower will help me brew it."
The tree rustled playfully, several blossoms drifting down into her lap like soft pink rain.
Huo Feng laughed, pure and joyous."Jealous, are you? Fine, I'll accept your gift with joy. I promise — with my tea and my dance, I'll dazzle them all."
She looked up, eyes gleaming with hope and determination."I really will… I'll make you proud."