Kazomaki Palace roared with drums, lanterns, and wild laughter, but the Lanxie clan stood untouched by chaos. Their courtyards held no firecrackers, no drunken songs. Breakfast was eaten in silence, lunch in order. Their halls were hushed, the rhythm steady as flowing water. No feasts, no fire—only calm. So calm it felt sacred.
Yet within two chambers, the silence was warmer—gentler—like an old memory refusing to fade.
Here, two families savored their fleeting hours together: one sinking into dreams, the other held quietly at the fragile edges of a vow once whispered in blue...
Flashback…
"Eating before shower harms health. You shower first. You need it most—otherwise those wounds will risk infection."
Lànhuā pressed her younger brother toward the staircase, her voice firm but gentle. Both kept their polite masks before their parents—second Dao children were not free to show too much affection.
In the dining hall, the others had already gathered for lunch while Xio was denied even a proper bite under his sister's watchful eye. He huffed. Língxi only nodded faintly at him, a flicker of a smile on his lips. His gaze seemed to say: Listen to your sister. She's right. Kageō smiled too, though Xio knew it was only an act. Still, as long as Lànhuā stood beside him, it was enough.
Xio's hair was lazily tied with a golden ribbon, his eyes heavy from sleepless nights. He tried to keep his expression polite, but soon a childish pout slipped through. Blinking up at her with drooping lids, he muttered:
"Ah, sis… I thought since I finally woke up, I'd at least eat something and then sleep. But now you're pushing me straight to the washroom? I don't even have the strength to walk. And besides—I'm not tiny anymore for you to bathe me like before."
He only dared murmur once their strict parents were no longer watching. Lànhuā chuckled silently, her pale blue eyes softening. She guided his steps, unrelenting yet kind.
"And why didn't you tell me you'd be staying the night? When uncle called me downstairs, I thought it was only to greet him—that you'd already be leaving."
The poor boy's voice was faint, his steps unsteady. He could hardly drag himself down the stairs.
She chuckled again, lids lowering. "Why, are you angry? I just wanted to surprise you."
"No, I'm not mad… but you could've told me earlier!" His tone shifted from thoughtful to lightly scolding, though his face was weary.
"Tsk, Xian Xio~ don't talk too much. Or your jaw pain might spread down to your arm too."
Even so, she slipped him a small piece of bread before pushing him upstairs.
"What? That doesn't even make sense, sis. And besides—you haven't called me Xian Xio in so long. Now I'm even angrier." Xio sighed and rolled his eyes. The corridor seemed endless, his heels echoing faintly on the marble floor.
He prayed not to stumble on the stairs—his legs trembled under him.
"All right, all right. You're the smartest—even smarter than me, my Xian Xio~. Now walk properly like a good boy. You still need lunch after this." Lànhuā's hands pressed steadily against his shoulders, strands of his dark gray hair brushing her fingers.
"Now what? Will you shower me too?" Xio yawned, his voice heavy with fatigue.
Lànhuā tilted her head, a teasing smile curving her lips. "If I must, I will. What will you do about it?"
His breath caught, cheeks pinkening. Wrapping his arms around himself dramatically, he gasped, "Ah, how could you? I'm a grown man now, not tiny like before."
Her words tugged a half-buried memory from Yuzai—something funny, something embarrassing… and heartbreakingly tender. He swallowed it down before it could surface.
"You'll be wearing robes while I bathe you. Problem solved." She said it as if it were the simplest equation in the world.
Xio groaned, turning toward her with a half-lidded, dramatic look. "It's not that simple anymore. Not now, not while I'm older."
"You'll always be tiny to me. Ten years younger means forever younger." She pinched his cheek lightly.
He hissed at the sting—not only from her fingers, but from the tender bite marks Kirihito had left on his neck. He masked it, unwilling to worry her or reveal how tightly he clung to that forbidden yokai, while their father, Língxi, searched endlessly for ways to strengthen them.
"It's actually seven years, not ten. Why make me sound smaller?" he muttered, winking one tired eye.
"It's the same. Ten just sounds… perfect."
"Seven is seven, ten is ten. You added four years for no reason. Do you realize you're making yourself an old lady at the same time?" he teased, a lazy, confident grin tugging at his lips.
She puffed her cheeks, poking his side with one finger. Xio knew exactly where to hit a nerve.
"Ahhh! That hurts too! My hips and stomach are sore—you know I was—" He faltered, biting off the truth of Kirihito. "—I was squeezed like a wet cloth by that Kazomaki crown ribbon. If you poke me again, I'll break."
His voice dropped to a dramatic, pained murmur as he rubbed his side. It was true—Kirihito had squeezed him mercilessly, legs wrapped around him—but he twisted the pain into play for his sister. It had become an addiction of his.
Lànhuā's breath hitched. She realized he wasn't just being dramatic—he truly hurt. Her hand lifted to her lips before she gently rubbed the spot she had poked. "Sorry, Xian Xio… I didn't know it was that bad. But… why do your eyes look so strange? What happened?"
Her tone shifted, soft worry sharpening into steel. Her blue gaze darkened. "How dare that fox yokai attack you?!"
Xio swallowed hard. What could he say? He gave an awkward smile, dismissing the tension with a quick kiss on her cheek. At once her hardened eyes softened, though her anger toward Kazomaki still burned. For Lanxie, the Kazomaki were enemies. And through their bond with Miè Rán sect, a wound to one felt like a wound to all.
"Oh, my dear sis, don't stress and ruin your beauty before marri—"
Her hand pressed firmly over his mouth, her expression clouded—annoyed, confused, broken all at once. Xio stilled, meeting her eyes silently.
"Again with marriage? Do you want to keep me busy with babies and a husband?" she asked in a small, muffled voice.
Xio chuckled once she let him speak. "Nope. I just want to keep you close."
"Then why?" Her tone was barely above a whisper—fragile, demanding.
"Because… when you have a big family… I'll feel like I belong there too."
His voice thinned to a near whisper. A thoughtful smile curved his lips as he pictured her in traditional wedding robes, radiant beside a groom, later carrying children with pride. He imagined himself the happiest uncle—chasing little ones in the courtyard, never distant like uncle Kage Ou but warm, playful, present. A good uncle, even before a father. If fate ever granted him that chance.
Because love, to him, was a shadow—a fear that he might never be able to embrace fully.
Silence fell between them. The siblings—though not bound by blood—stood side by side, thoughtful smiles softening their lips, each carrying unspoken weight in their hearts.