The night was on the verge of surrendering to dawn, yet the moments refused to move—suspended, weightless, as if time itself feared to wake.
It wasn't a feeling of being trapped, but of living inside a vivid dream too fragile to touch.
And some dreams, Kirihito thought, weren't illusions at all. They were glimmers of life—tiny, yes, but bright enough to strike against the darkest hours.
That strange, intoxicating calm wrapped around both Xio and Kirihito.
For Xio, it was something achingly familiar yet painfully new—like a breath stolen from his brief, sheltered days with Yuzai, but colored by something deeper.
Something that felt… real.
A new chapter in the weary saga of the second Dàozǔ.
Even the name he had bestowed upon Kirihito—Wèi Yīlíng—felt softly making a home in the broken, fragmented landscapes of his own memories. It was a word of promise, a shield.
He watched Kirihito, who was purring and chirping in that same irresistibly cute way as xio gently ran his fingers through his hair. Xio had to bite back a wide, genuine smile. Kirihito would occasionally nibble at xio's hand—a baby snake or kitten testing the world—and xio secretly adored this side of him. In these unguarded moments, Kirihito allowed himself to be comfortable, safe, and truly himself.
Xio found this innocence far more approachable than Kirihito's unpredictable, darker side. It wasn't that he hated the darkness; he simply cherished Kirihito as he was. But Kirihito's harsher persona was a chilling echo of the cruelty of his uncle, Kage ou, and the agonizing, never-to-be-forgotten days of his own youth. He refused to let Kirihito ever become cruel like that man, nor fall victim to demonic cultivators.
As a 1st-class Special Grade Yōkai, xio knew precisely how perilous and coveted such beings were among both the Demonic and Angelic cultivation sects. He had vowed his past would not repeat itself. He could not—would not—bear to see another innocent life fade before his eyes. This promise was a cold, hard stone in his gut as he carefully massaged Kirihito's head, the silkiness of the white hair a stark contrast to the rough texture of his conviction.
The night was indeed fading—a pale, bruised purple now tinting the horizon—and neither had slept. Kirihito was visibly succumbing to the gentle affection, his resistance dissolving into sleepiness. His mouth parted with sleepy, dove-like purrs, his cheeks flushed with warmth, his face buried deep into the crook of xio's neck, as if he had known this haven for years.
There was no hesitation, no awkwardness in Kirihito's embrace, unless xio happened to accidentally touch a sensitive area.
A soft, sharp hiss escaped xio's lips as Kirihito, in a daze of near-sleep, lightly nibbled at his already wounded neck. The sharp, delicate fangs gently poked at the sensitive, throbbing skin. Xio swallowed hard, his throat constricting.
Suddenly, hyper-aware of the proximity, xio's mind raced. So much had transpired in this single, intense night between two virtual strangers, as if fate itself had dictated the encounter. While xio struggled with both past and present memories, the old wounds were etched deep inside his heart. They were the one thing he could never forget.
A chill ran down his spine. The warmth of Kirihito's breath was instantly replaced by the icy weight of Kage ou's words:
"Come back within morning with the updates. If late… I'll take it as your betrayal again. Don't try to be smart with me… I've only kept you alive because you're my long-gone step-brother's son… and also because of my best friend. You're nothing more than a sniffer dog… wearing the title of 2nd Dōzui."
The bright, genuine smile xio had been suppressing instantly faded, replaced by a familiar mask of fear and sorrow.
How long? He wondered, the fear a cold knot in his stomach. How long can he keep Kirihito away from the world's hungry eyes? His uncle would eventually find out that xio was doing exactly what he had been warned against: trying to save rare special grades from demonic cultivators.
He remembered, with a profound, aching clarity, that he did not possess the worth people mistakenly attributed to his title. He did not have the peace, love, or family he yearned for. The gold he wore was a chain, not a jewel.
That was why, in a desperate attempt to carve out a sliver of peace, he had created this hidden house—just as he had desperately desired: peaceful, white, soft, where every wall would one day carry the weight of love and gentle memories. But having crossed the familiar, dangerous threshold once more, he knew he couldn't stop until he saw the end of the road.
He looked down at Kirihito.
The stubbornly sweet snake was still fighting off sleep. He simply didn't want to be left alone. The very thought of boredom seemed a greater threat than exhaustion. He maintained a strong, desperate grip on xio's robe, his long snake-like hair providing an additional, soft tether to hold xio in place.
Xio sighed, then glanced in front of him, where xì was still bound by the potent Demon Face spell. The poor crow had collapsed into a bizarre, contorted sleep, standing upright.
Xio considered xì thoughtfully. Should he release the shameless crow? Or keep him bound, a comedic reminder of the chaos of the night? He didn't want the crow to cause any more embarrassment, but he was also starting to feel a dull pang of guilt.
He shifted to sit properly, the movement bringing a sudden rush of thought. He glanced at Kirihito, silently adjusting his position. With excruciating gentleness, he removed Kirihito from his neck.
Kirihito let out a cute, confused, yet annoyed purr, a sound of utter contentment ruined. He was still half-asleep, his head dipping and bobbing, a fragile flower on a tired stem.
Xio had a sudden, mischievous idea. He sat up fully, his eyes now alert.
"Wèi…" he called softly. Kirihito didn't stir, seemingly having already forgotten the new name in his sleep-haze. Xio tried again, too tired to raise his voice: "Wei Yīlíng…"
He called once more, giving him a careful, gentle shake.
Kirihito instantly jolted awake, his body tensing in a primal defense before he let out a loud hiss and quickly lowered himself back down. Xio's own body almost jumped at the sudden, sharp awareness. He let out a relieved sigh, then raised his hand abruptly, as if catching something that had been flung toward him.
He didn't look in xì's direction. Instead, Kirihito slowly tilted his head toward where xio's gaze was fixed.
Xio had silently recalled his demon faces from xì. The demonic manifestation abruptly let go of the slipping, sleeping crow and dissolved into a faint wisp of shadow on xio's palm.
xì plummeted to the ground with a pathetic, surprised yelp. His eyes snapped over to xio, wide and filled with intense annoyance.
"You… human… xì hates you," the crow groaned, sitting up on the floor, his black-gold wings fluttering in a display of dramatic distress.
But Kirihito, still half-asleep, let out a sleepy, silvery giggle, a sound like a dove's soft laughter. Xì's perpetually annoyed lips actually twitched into a small, begrudging smile at the sound, even as his heart remained heavy with his own troubles.
"You're free now… but not fully," xio warned xì softly, his voice a low rumble. "Because I will catch you again if you try to mess anything up."
Xì huffed, rearranging his feathers. "Like xì will?" he murmured dramatically under his breath.
"Hehe~ Kirihito—" Kirihito was about to say, giggling again, before he corrected himself, tasting the sweetness of his new name. "Wèi Yīlíng! Like birdie and black-gold butterflies comedy!"
Xio blinked, the new name tasting like honey on his lips. Wèi Yīlíng. He didn't just like it—he had already adopted it into the deepest part of his lonely heart. The pure happiness it brought made xio silently glow. He quickly composed himself, clearing his throat.
"Anyways…" he started, pulling himself back to the reality of his predicament. Kirihito looked up at him, and xio's eyes drifted toward the mesmerizing white and gold of his hair. "I have to go back to my—"
"NOOOUUU!! WÈI WILL PLAY MORE!!" Kirihito screamed, cutting him off before he could finish. The childish yell, thick with raw desperation, filled the small room. His snake-like hair tightened around xio, a possessive, living vine. He then bit xio again.
"Ah…" xio hissed, his free hand instinctively coming up to hold Kirihito's head to stop the action. This bite was noticeably sharper, driven by genuine fear of abandonment. "It won't take too long, p… promise…" He tried to offer comfort, though he knew the promise might be brittle.
"Kiri—no, Wèi Yīlíng will get bored!"
"It's already nigh… no, almost morning… you should sleep… you're also sleepy," xio countered gently, but firmly. He carefully, forcefully, laid Kirihito down and tucked the blanket properly around his resistant form.
Kirihito huffed, a plume of frustration, his long hair spreading out across the white bedding. His little white snake looked at xio with a solemn, thoughtful expression, but Kirihito himself refused to look back, his mood entirely ruined.
Xio sighed, sitting up again and carefully freeing himself from the majority of Kirihito's hair, though the small hand still kept a firm, desperate grip on his robe.
Kirihito turned, settling his aggrieved stare on xio. Xì watched the whole exchange from the floor, a lazy, calculating smirk on his face. He was clearly waiting for the right opportunity to cause trouble. Xio's eyes drifted toward xì, catching the smug expression, and a spark of memory ignited. He immediately turned back to Kirihito, his demeanor shifting to one of awkward, parental instruction.
"Those things… your birdie was saying… are bad, okay?" Xio whispered, voice dipping into a shy murmur as his cheeks flushed red. "Don't let him come close again, or else…"
The words tangled at the edge of his tongue, too human to fully confess.
Xì's grin widened, clearly delighted by Xio's discomfort.
Xio sighed, brushing a hand over Kirihito's soft hair once more — a silent promise pressed between his fingers. Leaving was dangerous for him. Staying was dangerous for Kirihito.
But someone had to face the storm.
So Xio chose to walk toward it — quietly, deliberately — before his peace could shatter on its own.