The morning wind was warm, carrying the scent of blossoms and fresh earth. Birds roused in the treetops, their chirping weaving into the steady rhythm of the waking forest. Lizards darted into the rifts of stone, vanishing beneath mottled rocks, while a spider hung patient in its silver web, waiting for a careless butterfly to wander too close.
The carriage wheels slowed, crunching against the stone-paved road as the gates of the imperial capital loomed high. Golden tiles caught the sun, banners snapped against the wind, and the bustle of the city roared beyond the walls.
The streets roared with color and sound, The Imperial Capital swallowed them whole.
The carriage rolled to a slow stop. The air inside was heavy, too thick for the brightness of morning.
One by one, they stepped down from the carriage.
Chen Huo clasped Zhao Wuming's forearm, neither of them saying more than a few words. Li Qiong stood at the side, Min He dusted off her robes with a light smile. the others checking the laguagge for any missing content.
The road stretched ahead, and at last the long journey neared its end.
The others shifted restlessly, as though even the chirping of birds outside pressed against the silence.
It was Li Qiong who finally closed his scroll and said, voice even,
"Our roads end here."
The words broke the spell. Min He blinked, a candied plum halfway to her mouth. "End? Already? We only just—"
"Not for all," Li Qiong interrupted. His gaze drifted toward the girl. "You return to your sect. I will escort you."
A hush fell.
Before parting, each of them drew out a small token—slips of jade and iron-etched plates carrying a faint spiritual mark. They exchanged them in turn for the help they received.
"Escort, is it?" Jiang Rui arched a brow, smirking faintly. "Didn't think you had it in you." brother lin.
"Don't make it sound strange! He's just… being responsible!"
Li Qiong did not reply. He only gathered his things, movements as calm as the morning cloud.
"Then it's settled," Sun Yan said softly, shutting her medical book. "We'll part here. Meet again at the Conference."
Zhao Wuming's hand tightened on his knee. His eyes flickered once to Chen Huo, then away. He said nothing.
Min He tugged at her escort's sleeve, mischief in her eyes. "Senior Li Qiong, since you're stuck with me… shouldn't we celebrate? Let me be your tour guide."
Stone streets thrummed beneath a tide of footsteps, merchants shouting from behind their stalls, the fragrance of roasted meat and candied fruits drifting with the wind. Banners snapped above alleys, children ran laughing with paper kites, and painted courtesans leaned from balconies, scattering petals like rain.
Min He was everywhere at once.
"Look, Senior Li Qiong! Skewers!" She tugged his sleeve before he could answer, dragging him through a crowd of farmers and guards. A copper clinked, and in the next instant she was chewing on a smoking strip of lamb, grease shining on her lips. "Mm—spicy! Try it!"
Before he could respond, she had already darted ahead..
"Street performers!" she cried, pulling him again. The crowd had gathered in a circle where acrobats leapt through rings of fire, their shadows dancing tall against the walls. Drums pounded, a flute cut sharp through the air. Min He's eyes sparkled like twin stars as she clapped with the children, every laugh bursting free of her chest.
Li Qiong stood slightly behind her, arms folded, but his gaze softened—not at the fire, not at the drums, but at the girl who seemed determined to scatter her joy in every direction.
By the time the performance ended, she was already pointing at another stall.
Li Qiong endured her hand tugging at his sleeve, her voice fluttering like a sparrow.
"Senior Li Qiong, look at those paper lanterns! And there—peony sweets, they melt on your tongue. Senior Li Qiong, this painter says he can capture a likeness in a single brushstroke, why don't we try?"
"Paintings! Senior Li Qiong, come—come!"
She knelt before a painter's stall, studying the scrolls of mountain peaks, rivers, and courtyards inked in swift strokes. After a long hesitation, she chose one of a lone pine tree standing on a cliff, battered by wind yet unyielding.
When she paid, the old painter bowed with a knowing smile. Min He hugged the scroll to her chest and skipped back to Li Qiong's side.
"Doesn't it look like you?"
Li Qiong glanced at the painting, then at her flushed face. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes—a ripple beneath still water.
He went on, eyes fixed on her: "Before we joined the group, you never called me that. Why the sudden respect?"
She laughed quickly, too quickly, the sound thin. "I—well, isn't that how it should be? You're older and… people are watching."
Her lips curved into a pout, but she didn't argue. Instead,
She turned away, voice softer as if to hide behind the noise of the street. "Senior Li Qiong suits you better. Don't you think so?"
She reached for his hand—hesitated—then grabbed his sleeve instead, tugging him toward the next street.
His gaze lingered on her
She looked away, covering her pause with another laugh, tugging him toward a stall of trinkets. "Senior Li Qiong suits you better. Don't you think so?"
The pretense cracked when her breath caught. She bent forward suddenly, coughing into her sleeve, voice breaking apart like brittle glass.
The Capital was alive with hundred thousand voices, but to Min He, the world was no bigger than the moment walking silently beside him.
She knew they were only delaying. She knew, once they left the gates for her sect, the noise and color would fall away into silence again.
So she dragged the time out one laugh at a time.