The morning sun reflected off the polished practice yard, casting long shadows as the students gathered for the academy's sword competition. The air buzzed with excitement, whispers spreading: today would showcase the finest young warriors.
Li Xian's eyes immediately sought Zhao Han. There he was, standing apart, sword in hand, posture perfect, expression as calm and cold as ever.
"Looks like we're paired together," Li Xian said with a grin, sheathing his sword. "Ready to finally see me beat you?"
Zhao Han's eyes narrowed slightly, sharp and unreadable. "I never lose. And you shouldn't expect today to be any different."
The competition began, and immediately the two princes were locked in a duel that drew the attention of everyone in the yard. Sword clashed against sword, sparks flying, skill matched by skill. Every strike, every parry, every movement revealed their equal mastery.
Time seemed to blur. Neither yielded. Li Xian's playful smirk remained, though his breathing grew heavier. Zhao Han, on the other hand, stayed composed, every movement precise, controlled — almost too controlled.
Then, in a single fleeting moment, Li Xian found an opening. His sword struck cleanly.
"Winner — Li Xian!"
The crowd erupted, but Li Xian barely heard it. His gaze was fixed on Zhao Han. For just a second, something flickered in Zhao Han's eyes — something unreadable.
Li Xian stepped closer, a teasing smile returning to his lips. "Hey… did you let me win?"
Zhao Han's gaze turned sharp, his voice cold and firm. "Never. This time, you just got lucky."
He paused, his tone dropping even further. "And if we battle again, I can't guarantee your life. I never let anyone win thoughtfully — especially not you."
The words landed harder than any strike.
Li Xian's smile froze, then slowly faded. A quiet ache spread through his chest, unexpected and heavy. He forced a small laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"…Right. Guess I just got lucky."
As Zhao Han turned away, already preparing for the next match, Li Xian stood still for a moment longer, watching his retreating figure.
Why…?
His grip tightened around his sword.
Why does he hate me this much…? What did I ever do?
The thought lingered, sharper than any blade he had faced that day.
Li Xian exhaled slowly, pushing the feeling down, masking it with his usual carefree expression. But something had changed. The victory didn't feel like a victory at all.
And Zhao Han's words…
They refused to leave his mind.