The wind was sharp that afternoon, carrying the distant echoes of clashing blades and harsh shouts from the inner sect's training grounds. Li Xiyan kept to the shadowed path behind the medicinal hut, her heart quietly pounding.
She hadn't expected company.
The figure stumbled into the clearing—a young man draped in dark robes, his silver hair tangled, and one arm bleeding from a jagged cut. The famed sword prodigy, Mu Chen, though pride and pain warred fiercely in his narrowed eyes.
Xiyan's first instinct was to step back. He was dangerous—cold as the blade he wielded. But the flicker of raw pain beneath his arrogance stopped her.
Without a word, she knelt beside him, pulling out a small bundle of herbs from her worn satchel. Her hands moved quickly and gently, crushing leaves and applying them to his wound.
"Don't touch me," Mu Chen snapped, but his voice held a fragile edge, as if the pain was louder than his pride.
Xiyan ignored the command. "If you bleed out, there won't be a sword left to wield."
His eyes flashed, but no retort came.
The tension between them hung thick in the air as she worked—he, silent and suspicious; she, calm and steady.
Minutes stretched on. The sting of the herbs softened the wound, and his breathing slowed from ragged gasps to steady inhales.
Finally, Mu Chen's gaze softened. "Why help me?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Xiyan looked up, her own eyes steady and clear.
"Because I've been where no one cared. Because even the strongest need someone to believe in them."
He frowned, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Then, something extraordinary happened.
His hand, trembling slightly, brushed against hers.
"Don't tell anyone," he murmured, voice hoarse. "If they find out you helped me..."
"They won't," she assured him, a quiet smile touching her lips.
As Mu Chen rose to his feet, steadier now but still wounded, he looked at her with new eyes. Not pity. Not disdain.
Curiosity.
And maybe something deeper.
In that moment, Li Xiyan felt a small victory — not of swords or spirit energy, but of connection.
The battle for hearts had begun.