When night draped its velvet curtain over the Sky Kingdom,
everyone had already returned from the land of beasts — exhausted, burdened by what they had seen… and by what they could not forget.
Everyone,
except him.
Though his wounds were still fresh, Wu Xin refused to rest.
He went from chamber to chamber, making sure his students were safe.
Only when his mind eased did he finally walk toward Huo Feng's room —
the one the Furnace Elder had ordered her to rest in… or perhaps, to hide in, until further notice.
She felt his presence before he even knocked.
She opened the door, eyes glimmering with joy at the sight of him —
a joy that faded the instant she noticed the dried blood on his arms,
remnants of a battle still carved into his flesh.
She said nothing.
She simply stepped toward him,
as though her heart wanted to close the distance faster than her feet could.
Wu Xin sat at the edge of the chair, silent, his eyes searching hers —
as if for an answer to a question not yet born.
She came closer,
placed her hands gently on his shoulders,
and pressed softly, urging him to stand,
like a child guiding another toward comfort.
Then, in a voice that trembled with quiet pleading, she whispered:
"That's not how wounds heal… let me help you."
With tender insistence, she pushed his shoulders toward the bed —
as though laying him into a pool of warmth and peace.
He yielded, his breath uneven,
first sitting, then slowly lying down.
She adjusted the pillows, brushed a stray lock from his forehead,
and murmured:
"You'll heal better here…"
She leaned over him, her hands moving lightly over his wounds,
wiping away dried blood with delicate care —
her touch gentle on him, merciless only toward his pain.
She moved as though erasing every scar,
every trace of war written upon him.
He remained silent, watching her —
but his eyes spoke the words his tongue dared not.
She looked up, breaking the silence with a soft laugh.
"Wu Xin… do you trust your little sweet one?"
He didn't answer — didn't even nod.
He simply reached out, weary and slow,
and brushed the sweat from her brow with his sleeve.
It was his silent answer.
She smiled — this time with quiet peace.
"I knew it… I knew you trusted me."
A pause.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper:
"Do you want to know a secret?"
He replied with feigned indifference:
"No."
Then added, his tone gentler — a confession in disguise:
"Huo Feng… I'm sorry.
I don't want to press you.
Maybe… you need to understand your secret first — before you can share it."
Her gaze fell, her voice caught between defeat and determination.
"But… I want to explain what happened."
He cut her off sharply:
"No."
That no — fragile and firm all at once —
was like a transparent wall:
dividing them, yet bringing them closer.
"Wait… until your master, the Furnace Elder, commands it.
Wait until…"
His words trailed off with his breath.
Silence followed — not of choice this time,
but of sleep finally claiming him after the storm.
Huo Feng stood by the bedside, watching his face soften in slumber —
for the first time, no trace of stubbornness or command remained.
Only peace.
The peace of someone who, at last, could rest.
She smiled faintly.
"At last… you sleep."
She hesitated, then climbed onto the bed beside him.
Rested her head near his shoulder.
For the first time in her life,
the night felt kind.
Her eyelids heavy not with exhaustion… but with comfort.
That night, she slept soundly —
for the first time… beside someone else.
Beside a man.
Days dragged heavily at the Academy —
the weight of disappointment thick in the air.
No one dared meet Huo Feng's eyes for long.
They avoided her in corridors,
greeted her with forced politeness — if at all.
All except three: Suo, Yue, and Master Li.
They alone kept faith in her,
their bond untouched by judgment or rumor.
The others…
their faces carried a justified resentment that would not fade —
rekindled each time her shadow crossed their path.
And someone made sure it never faded.
Who?
Mei.
Each dawn, she reopened the wound.
Each night, she told and retold her story —
of Huo Feng's cowardice, of her escape from battle.
Adding, twisting, embellishing —
until the lie became legend.
Until fear turned into myth.
When Huo Feng could bear no more,
she wished to speak — to tell the truth she barely understood herself.
But Master Li stood before her, his voice soft as morning dew:
"Leave it… don't explain anything.
The future will reveal your truth without your permission."
Then, without thinking, he took her hand —
a gesture of comfort more than intent.
His eyes said what words could not:
"I trust you, my sweet one."
Then — a sharp cry pierced the courtyard:
"Look! Look at her! Is this the pride of our academy?!"
All breaths stopped.
Every gaze turned to Master Li's hand —
still holding Huo Feng's.
His eyes reddened — not from shame, but from fury barely contained.
He opened his mouth to speak,
to silence Mei's venom once and for all —
but another voice thundered before he could.
Wu Xin.
"Enough, Mei!
Those who throw accusations carelessly only expose themselves first.
Virtue isn't a banner to raise when it suits you —
then trample when it doesn't!"
His words struck her pride like arrows.
She trembled, her voice breaking before his gaze.
Then, in front of everyone, she knelt —
not from remorse, but from cunning.
"I was wrong… I'm sorry, Huo Feng. Please forgive me."
Huo Feng stood still.
Her breath cold as her eyes.
She didn't speak — because she didn't believe it.
That apology wasn't redemption.
It was performance —
woven from deceit, pride, and the desperate need to please the master.
Mei's goal was not forgiveness.
It was control.
And in that moment… she almost had it.