Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the Sect Leader's residence.
Jiang Chen sat at his desk, one hand supporting his head, the other… holding a brush.
In front of him lay a single sheet of pristine paper.
For the past thirty minutes, he had written nothing.
Nothing at all.
Just a few half-sentences:
"To Lin Wuyue…""About the other night…""I should say…"
Then long pauses. Long sighs.
And many guilty glances at the door — in case anyone came in.
"Ridiculous," he muttered, tossing the brush down. "It's just a letter of gratitude. That's all. A normal, polite, sect-leaderly thing to do. Completely normal."
His sword, resting on the nearby stand, gave a faint metallic hum.
Judgmental.
"…Don't look at me like that."
The blade hummed again.
More judgmental.
Before he could argue with an inanimate object — there was a cheerful knock at the door.
"Sect Leader~? It's Pei Yun~!"
Jiang Chen immediately snatched the half-written letter and stuffed it into a drawer.
"Come in," he called, voice steady.
Pei Yun waltzed in, carrying a tray of tea. "You're up early. What are you—"
She froze.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Why is your brush still wet?"
"…I was practicing calligraphy."
"With no paper on the desk?"
"…I cleaned up."
She walked right past him, suspicious.
Her gaze drifted to the slightly ajar drawer… and the edge of paper sticking out.
Her smile turned wicked.
"Ohhh? What's this~?"
"Don't touch it."
"Is this a love letter?"
"It's NOT."
He lunged for the drawer — too late.
Pei Yun held up the unfinished letter with a triumphant grin. "'To Lin Wuyue… about the other night…' — Jiang Chen! You really are writing love letters!"
His face flushed. "It's a thank-you note."
"With a greeting like that?"
She grinned. "Don't worry. I fully support this development."
"It's not a development."
But Pei Yun was already halfway out the door, laughing. "Wuyue will be so happy to receive it!"
"I'LL BURN IT FIRST."
Moments after she vanished, Jiang Chen groaned and dropped his head on the desk.
This was getting out of hand.
The Moonlit Blossom Dance had already caused enough problems — ever since that night, the entire sect had been in an uproar.
Servants whispered as he passed:
"Did you see how the Sect Leader danced with Elder Lin?"
"I heard they looked into each other's eyes the whole time…"
"Maybe they're secretly engaged!"
He'd even overheard a group of outer sect disciples betting on when the wedding invitations would be sent out.
It was madness.
He had simply danced. Once. ONE time.
And now?
Now he was an unwilling star in a romance story he had never written.
Just as he sighed again, the door creaked open — this time much softer.
"Ah… Sect Leader Jiang?"
He looked up, startled.
Lin Wuyue stood there, fidgeting slightly. Her usual composure was replaced by an uncertain air.
Her cheeks pink. Her hands clasped behind her back.
"…Good morning, Elder Lin," he greeted, carefully neutral.
"I… I heard Pei Yun was here earlier."
He grimaced internally.
"…She was."
"And that… there may have been a letter."
"…There wasn't."
Her gaze flickered down. "I see."
A pause.
"Would… would you like to join me for tea later?" she asked, voice soft.
He blinked.
Her eyes, though trying for casual, shimmered with something hopeful.
Before he knew it, he nodded. "Of course."
She smiled — radiant and a little shy.
"I'll wait for you in the garden."
And then she left.
Jiang Chen stared after her.
"…I am doomed," he whispered.
No sooner had he finished that thought when the door slammed open.
"MASTER!!!"
It was Tang Yunyun.
Panting. Breathless.
Face bright with excitement.
"Have you seen the new announcement board?!"
"…What."
She rushed forward, waving a parchment. "Look! The inner disciples compiled a list — 'Top Romantic Masters of the Month!' You're number ONE!"
Jiang Chen's eye twitched. "Burn it."
"But it's already posted all over the sect!"
She beamed. "Oh! And apparently, they're hosting a new Sword-and-Dance Pairing Contest inspired by you! There's a special category: 'Most Poetic Affection!' Isn't that amazing?!"
"…I need to lie down," he muttered.
"Master, you're so popular!" Yunyun said brightly. "You'll be getting confession letters soon!"
He groaned.
But there was no stopping the madness now.
Later that afternoon, when he met Lin Wuyue in the garden, the gentle spring breeze was full of floating petals.
And soft, curious glances from disciples passing by.
He ignored them.
Tried to.
They sat together beneath a flowering plum tree.
Wuyue poured tea, her movements graceful but a touch nervous.
He accepted the cup with a quiet, "Thank you."
Silence stretched.
Then—
"…About the other night," she said softly.
"…It was a beautiful evening," he replied.
She glanced at him. "I'm glad."
Another pause.
Then her fingers brushed the table, hesitant.
"…And… if you had written a letter… I think I would have liked it."
His heart skipped.
He looked at her — and found her cheeks glowing pink, her gaze turned slightly away.
Words caught in his throat.
Before he could gather a reply—
CRASH!
Pei Yun burst into the garden, waving a scroll.
"Jiang Chen! It's happened! Your sword's poetry has gone viral! The entire cultivation world knows about the 'Romantic Sword of the Gentle Sovereign' now!"
"…I'm leaving," he muttered.
"You can't! You're the guest of honor at tomorrow's Poetry Duel of Love and Steel!"
He looked at Lin Wuyue.
She met his gaze — and laughed, soft and musical.
"…Looks like your quiet life won't be quiet much longer."