The setting sun bled across the horizon, dyeing the clouds in molten gold and violet. A faint sweetness floated in the wind — light, nostalgic, almost unreal. It felt like the flowers had bloomed just for that moment.
Wen Yu'an froze in place.
That scent...
For months, he had wandered the sect's outer halls, asking every constable, every merchant, "Have you seen her?"
He had been beaten, mocked, thrown to the ground. Still, he had not stopped searching.
And now, that faint fragrance told him what no one else could — Young Miss Min He had returned.
His chest tightened. His throat felt dry. Then he saw her.
She stepped through the courtyard archway, the fading light catching on her robes like ripples on water. But there was another shadow beside her — tall, calm, unfamiliar.
Li Qiong.
Wen Yu'an's smile vanished for a fraction of a heartbeat. His jaw locked; he bit down so hard his gums ached, and the taste of iron filled his mouth.
Who is that man beside her?
The sweetness in the air turned bitter. Rage coiled in his chest like a serpent ready to strike. But by the time Min He noticed him, his expression had already softened — his mask back in place.
He stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Young Miss... you have returned. The Patriarch and all the disciples have been deeply worried."
Min He smiled faintly. "Yu'an, it's good to see you.
His gaze flicked again to Li Qiong, unable to restrain himself. "Forgive me, Young Miss, but… this gentleman beside you—?"
Before he could finish, Min He turned toward Li Qiong, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.
This Senior Brother is Li Qiong — he saved me on the road and accompanied me back."
"Ah... so that's how it is." Wen Yu'an's tone was warm, even admiring. "Then this humble one must thank Sir Li in the name of the Soaring Crane Sect. To have our Young Miss safely return is a blessing beyond words."
Li Qiong nodded slightly, his gaze neither friendly nor hostile.
"Please," Wen Yu'an continued with perfect grace, "allow me to escort Young Miss and Sir Li to the Patriarch. He will wish to hear every detail of her return."
He gestured forward, leading the way.
As they walked through the sect's stone path, the disciples who passed stopped to stare. Murmurs rippled through the air like insects in summer.
"Is that Young Miss Min He?"
"She's finally back."
"Who's the man beside her? Doesn't he look... too close?"
"And that errand boy, walking ahead like he owns the place—tsk."
The whispers grew sharper, the glances longer.
Min He lowered her gaze. The stares pricked her skin like needles. She could hear the hushed laughter from behind the walls.
But Wen Yu'an walked proudly before them — chin lifted, stride graceful, like a man displaying his prize. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, each step measured and deliberate.
He looked every bit the composed attendant... yet his heart boiled beneath his robes.
They dares scorn her... dares make her uncomfortable like that... only i can do that
The scent of jasmine clung to the air, the very fragrance that had once belonged to her courtyard. He wanted to crush it, drown it — yet he breathed it in greedily, as though he could trap her presence inside his lungs forever.
At last, the great hall came into view. The stone pillars shimmered under torchlight. From within, the faint sound of the Patriarch's attendants echoed softly.
Wen Yu'an slowed his pace, turned with a polished smile.
"Young Miss, please — after you. The Patriarch awaits."
Min He gave a small nod and stepped forward, her sleeve brushing past him. He felt the faint warmth of her presence and clenched his fist behind his back until his knuckles went white.
His mind whispered:
Sooner or later, Young Miss, you'll see. That man is no good — but only I can give you everything you desire.