She turned to Wangchen, pouting slightly. "Wangchen, am I ugly? Do I have spinach in my teeth? Why did they scream?"
Xie Wangchen was standing perfectly still behind her. His hand was gripping the hilt of Winter's Sigh so hard that the leather wrap creaked.
He had seen everything. He had seen the way Ji'an's eyes softened. He had heard the low, sultry tone of her voice. He had seen the way the sunlight hit her hair.
He knew exactly why the sisters ran. They ran because their hearts couldn't handle the lethality of Lin Ji'an's unintentional charm.
And he hated it.
A dark, sour vinegar jar overturned in his heart. He wanted to go chop down that camellia bush. He wanted to forbid her from smiling at anyone else.
"They ran because they have weak constitutions," Wangchen lied through his teeth, his voice tight.
"Really?" Ji'an frowned, rubbing her chin. "I thought I was being charming. I even used my 'Special of the Day' voice."
"It was terrible," Wangchen said, his ears burning red even as he tried to sound dismissive. "You sounded like a... a rogue. A Playboy, master."
"A playboy?" Ji'an laughed, slapping his arm playfully. "You're just jealous because I didn't give you a flower."
Wangchen turned his head away, hiding the furious blush that was creeping up his neck.
'Yes,' he thought, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm. 'I am jealous. I am insanely, hopelessly jealous. And you don't even know.'
"Let's go back," Wangchen said abruptly, walking ahead of her to hide his expression. "You still need to practice your sword stance."
"Hey! Wait up! You're walking too fast!" Ji'an jogged after him, completely oblivious to the emotional turmoil she had just inflicted on her bodyguard. "Little Puddle, are you blushing? You are blushing! Was it the Playboy comment? Aww, you're so cute!"
"Shut up," Wangchen gritted out, walking faster.
"Come on, admit it! You think I'm cool!"
"I think you are annoying, Master."
"But you like me anyway!"
Wangchen stopped. He didn't turn around. The silence stretched for a heartbeat, heavy and charged with something Ji'an couldn't quite read.
"Yes," he whispered, so quietly the wind almost stole it. "I do."
"Huh? What did you say?" Ji'an asked, tilting her head.
Wangchen took a deep breath, composed his face into its usual mask of stoic indifference, and turned around.
"I said," he lied, "That if we are late for dinner, the rice will be cold."
Ji'an's eyes widened. "The rice! Oh my god, it's a disaster! I almost forgot about that! Run, Wangchen, run!"
She took off sprinting toward their courtyard. Wangchen watched her go, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. He touched his chest, where his heart was beating a chaotic drum.
He didn't know what the future held. He didn't know about plots or protagonists. He only knew one thing:
He was going to the Sword Sect. He was going to become strong. And he was going to make sure that the only person Lin Ji'an ever teased, fed, or smiled at... was him.
[System Note: Target Xie Wangchen Favorability: 75%. Jealousy Level: Critical. Host, please stop flirting with the NPCs, you are breaking the genre.]
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.
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The night before they departed for the Celestial Sword Sect, the Lin Mansion was steeped in a heavy, restless silence.
The servants moved with hushed steps, sensing the shifting tides of power within the household.
In the West Courtyard, crates were packed, herbs were sealed in jade boxes, and a certain future villain was obsessively polishing a sword that was already sharp enough to cut the wind.
Lin Ji'an sat on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The system had been quiet today, likely buffering the massive plot data for the upcoming arc.
She felt a strange sense of unreality. Tomorrow, she would leave this "Novice Village." Tomorrow, the real game begins.
"Young Master."
Xie Wangchen's voice came from outside the door, low and alert. "The General's personal adjutant is here. He says the Master summons you to the Ink Bamboo Study."
Ji'an sat up, her heart doing a small flip. The Ink Bamboo Study was General Lin's sanctuary. In the memories of the original owner, it was a place of terror, a place where she was scolded for being weak, for crying, for not being enough.
But Ji'an knew better now.
"I'm coming," she replied.
She opened the door. Wangchen stood there, half-illuminated by the lantern light. He was wearing his night robes, his hair loose, but Winter's Sigh was in his hand.
"I will accompany you, Master," he said immediately.
"To the door," Ji'an corrected gently. "Whatever Old Man Lin has to say, he wants to say it to his son, not his son's bodyguard. Wait outside. If by chance something happens and I scream, then you can come."
Though Lin Ji'an didn't really believe that something bad would happen, enough for her to be on guard. Cause no matter what she did, Ji'an was still General Lin's own blood. He would surely not kill her at such an important time, right?
Wangchen frowned, his fingers tightening on the scabbard, but he nodded. "I will be within ten paces outside the door then."
The Ink Bamboo Study smelled of old paper, pine smoke, ink, and cold steel. It was a masculine room, devoid of the frivolous ornaments that cluttered the rest of the mansion.
Maps of the borderlands covered the walls, pinned with daggers.
General Lin Zhen stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He was looking at the moon. The silhouette of his broad shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the entire sky.
"Father," Ji'an said softly, closing the heavy oak door behind her. "You summoned me?"
The General turned. In the dim light, the lines on his face seemed deeper than usual. He looked at Ji'an carefully, really looked at her, scanning her from her topknot to her boots.
"Sit," he grunted, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.