The afternoon sunlight slanted through the tall windows of the Jingshou Sect library, scattering golden dust across shelves that smelled faintly of old wood, ink, and time.
Shen Lianxiu stood at the entrance for a long while, hands clasped behind his back, squinting at the silence inside as if he had stepped into a forbidden realm. The place was too quiet. The sort of quiet that made one's own heartbeat sound suspiciously loud.
He scratched his head, the expression on his face halfway between curiosity and mischief."Alright," he muttered under his breath, "let's see what all the fuss is about."
Rows upon rows of books towered before him — cultivation manuals, historical scrolls, records of monsters, treatises on medicine, even poetry compilations — but none of that was what he was looking for. Not today.
He moved slowly through the aisles, fingers tracing the spines of the books until he reached a corner where the shelves were dim and rarely visited. It was there, tucked behind a collection of ancient philosophical works, that he found something that made him pause.
A title written in faint brushstrokes: "On the Union of Same Souls."
He blinked. "That sounds… suspiciously poetic."
He pulled it out, flipped it open — and froze.
The text was full of neat diagrams and old tales — men and women, masters and disciples, even celestial beings — all describing affections that defied the usual rules of gender. It wasn't written in a scandalous tone, but in a quiet, almost reverent one. It spoke of love as something that transcended form, as natural as breath.
Lianxiu stared at the page for a long while. Then, slowly, he frowned."Wait… wait a second."
He flipped to another section, scanning quickly."The love of man for man is not against the Dao, for the heart recognizes no division…"
His eyes widened.He looked up, blinked, then looked down again."I'm— what? …Oh."
He sat down cross-legged on the floor without even realizing it, the book open on his lap. For a long moment, he just stared at it, lips slightly parted. There was no fear, no disgust — only an odd, dawning understanding.
"So that's what this is?" he whispered, pressing a finger to his chest where his heart had pounded so fast the night before. "That feeling when I look at him…?"
He tilted his head, thinking. "Interesting."
And then, with the same eager curiosity he gave to every mystery in life, Shen Lianxiu began to read.
He read one book, then another, then another — whatever he could find about the topic. Some were scholarly, others romantic, some even awkwardly written by past cultivators trying to justify their feelings through the language of spiritual balance. He devoured them all, utterly absorbed.
Hours passed. The afternoon sun crawled across the floor and slipped away, leaving behind the cool blue of evening.
At one point, the old librarian, Master Zheng, peeked into the aisle, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. "Shen Lianxiu…?"
Lianxiu looked up from his pile of books, eyes bright."Ah, hello, Master Zheng!"
The old man blinked. "You've… been here since midday?"
"Yes!" Lianxiu grinned, pointing to his small mountain of reading material. "I found some really interesting books. Did you know there's a whole section about how emotions can affect spiritual harmony? Fascinating!"
Zheng just stared, speechless. The same boy who once tied paper cranes to the door of the lecture hall was now quoting from ancient scrolls about emotional balance.
"Well," the librarian managed, "that's… new."
Lianxiu nodded, beaming. "It's like finding a whole new part of the world inside my own head."
When the bells rang to mark nightfall, he finally stretched, yawning and stacking the books neatly on the table. His expression was thoughtful, but peaceful.
He walked out into the cool dusk, hands behind his back, humming softly.
"So that's what I am," he murmured, smiling at the fading sky. "One of them."
And then, as if the realization had merely added another delightful secret to his endless list of curiosities, he laughed quietly to himself and wandered off toward the dormitories, the echo of his steps light and carefree.
The afternoon sun slanted through the high windows of the lecture hall, golden dust drifting like lazy motes of light. Shen Lianxiu had long since given up pretending to pay attention. His chin rested on one hand, the other tapping lightly on his knee as Mu Yichuan spoke about spiritual harmonization between sword and qi.
"I am sleepy," Lianxiu muttered under his breath, stretching his legs. The disciple next to him snorted."Shh," Nie Xiaohuan whispered from a row ahead, not even turning around.
Lianxiu pouted but quieted down—for about three breaths. Then he leaned toward his friend again."Hey, do you think Master Wen ever laughs? I mean, a real loud laugh?"
His companion tried to smother a laugh, but the faint sound made Xiaohuan's shoulder twitch in warning. Lianxiu pretended innocence.
And then his gaze, wandering carelessly, landed on a figure sitting in the front row.
Ling Xiuyuan.
The older disciple's posture was perfect—straight-backed, poised, as if carved from stillness. His hair was bound neatly at the nape, black silk falling against pale robes. A thread of sunlight touched the curve of his cheek. The air around him seemed quieter somehow, as though the world itself held its breath so as not to disturb him.
Lianxiu blinked once. Then again.
The words of Mu Yichuan faded into a gentle hum; the whole room seemed to dissolve. All that remained was that one calm profile, the faint lift of Xiuyuan's lashes, the slow exhale as he absorbed every word of the lecture.
Beautiful, Lianxiu thought, startled. No—more than that. Divine. Like something drawn from the heavens themselves.
He didn't even notice that his friend was whispering his name, or that the lecture had moved on. He just kept staring, heart skipping in small, confusing bursts.
"Lianxiu," someone hissed.He didn't hear.
A light knock landed on the back of his head. "Let's go, dreamer. The lecture's over."It was Roulan, smirking as she passed.
"Huh? Oh." Lianxiu blinked rapidly, cheeks warm. "Yeah, right." He stood, rubbing the spot she'd hit. Xiaohuan was already leaving, hands clasped neatly behind his back.
"Come on," Roulan said again.
"I'll come in a while," Lianxiu replied suddenly. "You both go ahead."
Xiaohuan turned, skeptical. "Where are you going?"
"I'll make no trouble this time. Promise!" Lianxiu called over his shoulder—and before either could stop him, he darted back into the hall.
The air inside was quieter now. The masters had lingered, speaking softly near the dais. As Lianxiu entered, he froze mid-step.
Mu Yichuan and Wen Yao stood close together by the open window. Wen Yao's hand was lightly caught in Yichuan's, fingers brushing as if in the middle of an unspoken reassurance. When they saw him, Wen Yao flushed scarlet and pulled back at once, stammering something inaudible.
"Oh—uh—Shen Lianxiu," Yichuan said with the calmness of a man who refused to be startled. "Did you forget something?"
"No." Lianxiu grinned, wide-eyed. "I wanted to ask something!"
Wen Yao, still pink, cleared his throat. "Ask… something?"
Lianxiu took a few bouncing steps closer, earnest as a child but with that unmistakable spark of mischief in his eyes.
Yichuan sighed softly. "What is it you want to ask?"
"It's about—two men," he blurted.
Wen Yao coughed violently. "Two—?!"
Lianxiu nodded with perfect seriousness, though his ears were faintly red. "I mean, I was reading some books lately—about affection, you know. Between… well, not a man and a woman."
Both masters went still.
Lianxiu continued, his voice smaller now but steady. "The more I read, the more I thought—maybe I'm one of them." He raised his gaze, eyes clear as glass. "I think… I'm also in love with a man."
A hush fell over the hall.
Finally, Yichuan spoke quietly, "You have given this thought serious weight, haven't you?"
Lianxiu nodded. "I think so. It doesn't feel strange or wrong to me. Just… new. Like I've finally understood something about myself."
The faintest smile touched Yichuan's lips. "Then that is something to be proud of knowing." He folded his hands behind his back, voice steady and gentle. "I will not ask who it is. But if you ever wish to tell us — or simply talk about it — you will always be welcome here."
Wen Yao, cheeks tinged pink, nodded quickly in agreement. "Truly. You… you don't have to hide what you feel. The heart isn't bound by the forms of this world."
Lianxiu blinked, surprised at their kindness — then smiled, soft and genuine. "Thank you, Masters."
He turned toward the window where the light was fading, golden and pale on the floor. "I'll tell you his name one day," he said. "But not now."
Yichuan inclined his head. "That's your choice."
A pause. Then Lianxiu tilted his head, curiosity bubbling up again. "Then… if I do want to tell him one day — how should I do it?"
The silence that followed was not heavy. It was gentle, like still water. Then Yichuan finally spoke, his voice even and patient:
"You're still so young, Lianxiu — too young, perhaps, to fully understand what your heart is trying to tell you. And if I'm right," he said with a small knowing smile, "this person you speak of must be a disciple too. It hasn't been long since you've known him, has it?"
Lianxiu rubbed his neck, sheepish. "Well… not that long."
Yichuan nodded, not unkindly. "Then here's my advice. Don't rush. Don't test or observe him like some mystery to be solved. Just let yourself live it — let your heart feel what it feels. Learn who he is. Let time teach you both."
His tone softened, the words flowing slow and steady, almost like a prayer.
"And one day, when you find yourself ready — truly ready — to accept him without needing him to explain himself to you… when you realize he is the person you will trust no matter what he says or does… then do it. Tell him."
Lianxiu was listening, utterly still, eyes wide with quiet awe.
Yichuan went on, his gaze turning toward the fading light beyond the window.
"But if the answer is no — if he cannot return your feelings — then don't force him. The goal of love isn't always to keep someone beside you. It's to walk beside them for as long as you can. Whether close or far, love means standing by their side — always."
When he finished, the hall was hushed except for the faint rustle of Wen Yao's sleeve as he turned to look at him. The quiet reverence in Wen Yao's gaze said more than words could — the kind of look that had long since learned to love in silence.
Yichuan met his eyes briefly, a faint, knowing curve at his lips.
Lianxiu looked between them, heart strangely warm, as if he'd just witnessed something secret and beautiful. He bowed deeply. "Thank you, Masters. I'll remember it."
He turned to leave, sunlight slipping over his shoulders as he stepped out into the afternoon light — and for the first time, the restless chaos in his chest felt almost like peace.