LUO FAN
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For days, we traveled without seeing another soul. For safety, we avoided the main roads, choosing narrow, overgrown paths that snaked through dense woods and rugged hills. The routes were often treacherous—some so steep they required climbing, others narrow enough that a single misstep could send us tumbling down the hillside. Some paths had vanished entirely, swallowed by nature, forcing us to forge new trails.
Through it all, Lan Feng never complained. On the contrary, he seemed to thrive on the challenge, his enthusiasm undeterred by the harshness of the journey. He followed close behind me, always attentive to my needs, though I suspected he was more worried about me than the path ahead.
True to his words, he was happy and content just being with me.
"Gege, you don't look well," he said one afternoon after we had spent half a day climbing an especially steep, rocky hill. His voice was tinged with concern.
I turned to him with a tired smile, meaning to wave off his concern. "I'm alright. Just need a moment—"
But I never finished. The words blurred as my vision spun. The trees around us seemed to tilt, and my knees buckled before I could brace myself.
In a blink, his arms were around me.
I was lifted off my feet with no room for argument, cradled in his arms like some fragile maiden. "Feng'er!" I protested, heat rising to my cheeks. "I told you not to carry me like this!"
"You're exhausted," he said simply, adjusting his grip without breaking stride. "The heat's draining you. You need to rest."
I sighed, resigning myself to his stubbornness. Struggling would only waste energy, and he wouldn't listen to me anyway.
At the peak of the hill, the trees parted like a curtain unveiling a stage. Before us stretched a breathtaking vista—rolling green valleys dappled in sunlight, with slender silver streams weaving through the earth like veins of light. In the far distance, blue-gray mountains loomed, softened by mist. The air was cooler here, and a soft breeze played with the ends of Lan Feng's long hair as he set me down beneath the broad canopy of an ancient tree.
I leaned against the trunk, grateful for the shade and the peace. After taking a few slow sips from our waterskin, I felt the tension in my chest begin to loosen.
"This is a good spot," I said, glancing at Lan Feng, who had settled beside me.
He didn't respond right away. His gaze was fixed on me, eyes dark with sincerity. "Gege, you're always doing so much for me," he said softly. "You don't say it, but I can see it. You're tired because of me. When we get home… I'll repay you for everything. I promise."
I looked at him, my heart sinking.
He meant Hanyue. He still believed his family was waiting for him there, that we would return to an estate nestled in the frosted beauty of the Xue Empire. He didn't know that Hanyue no longer existed in the way he remembered. He didn't know that the people he loved had long turned to dust, and that home, for him, was now the sprawling estate in Henmei District, in the heart of the Xianru Empire.
And he didn't know that the gentle, kind boy he was now would disappear once his injury healed. The man who would return—cruel, cunning, and merciless—was someone I could never truly trust.
But I didn't have the heart to tell him any of this. Not here. Not when he looked at me with that childlike hope, so full of trust.
"You don't have to," I replied, shaking my head lightly. "I'm not doing this in exchange for anything."
"I know," Lan Feng said, his voice quiet but earnest. "But I just want to give you something for all the trouble I've caused you."
I met his steady gaze. "I'm just doing my job as a priest. Besides, didn't you say you wanted me to be part of your family? Family members don't take rewards for helping one another, remember?"
His brows furrowed, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he mulled over my words. "Then how am I going to return the favor?" he asked, clearly unwilling to let the matter go.
"You don't have to," I said.
A mischievous gleam lit up his eyes. "Then I'll place myself under your servitude," he declared with surprising solemnity. "Since you're my gege, I'll be at your disposal, completely… on your whim, whenever you like."
I froze for a moment, his words triggering an unwelcome memory. Wasn't this the same offer Ruan Yanjun had made to me once? Except, of course, Lan Feng's offer seemed sincere, while Ruan Yanjun's had been laced with mocking arrogance. The devil only said it because he was certain I wouldn't last in my path and thought it would amuse him to make such an offer.
Pushing the thought aside, I smiled and tapped Feng'er's cheek lightly. "Alright, if you insist."
He beamed at me, radiant and content, before lowering his head to my shoulder, nestling against me as though it were the most natural thing in the world. There was something so childlike in the gesture, so innocent, that I found myself relaxing without even realizing it.
My hand moved to his hair, stroking it idly.
If this had been Ruan Yanjun, I wouldn't have tolerated this closeness for a moment. I'd have shoved him off without hesitation. But this was Feng'er—sweet, innocent, flirty, and far too attached to me for his own good. There was no malice behind his actions, no ulterior motive. If he weren't so clearly grown, he would have made the perfect little brother—loyal, devoted, and deeply earnest.
"Gege," he murmured after a stretch of silence, his voice pensive. "I'm just wondering… We've been heading southwest for a while now. Isn't my home supposed to be to the north?"
I blinked, surprised by the question. So, he had noticed. Smart boy.
"Remember when I told you there's a place we need to visit before we go home?" I said smoothly, keeping my voice even. "It's called the Verdant Grove. There's something there that might help you recover."
He tilted his head slightly. "The crack on my head?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied. "And your memories."
He let out a soft moan of mock frustration, but there was affection in it, not annoyance. He pressed closer against my side and mumbled, "Gege worries too much about Feng'er."
"Of course I do," I said. For this child, I didn't have to hold back my concern. Unlike Ruan Yanjun, he wouldn't twist my worry into something malicious or use it against me. "You don't mind a couple of weeks' delay, do you?"
"Not at all, gege," he said, his tone lifting with a carefree lightness. "And honestly, I don't really care where you're taking me. As long as I'm with Gege, I'm happy."
His words warmed something deep inside me, even as they left me with a lingering unease. He was so honest, so open with his feelings. And yet, I couldn't forget who he really was—what he really was.
I glanced down at him. He had settled against me completely, one hand resting on my leg, the other curled lazily in his lap, his expression serene.
"I'll rest for a while," I said quietly, leaning my head back against the tree. The breeze whispered through the branches, rustling the leaves in a lullaby of green.
"Okay, Gege," he whispered, his breath soft as his body stilled.
I could feel his breathing even out beside me, warm and constant. The weight of his presence was grounding, comforting in a way I couldn't explain. I wished the world would hold still, that Feng'er would stay by my side—unchanging, unyielding to time.
But I knew that was only a dream."
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