As the young man approached, Xiao Mei and her group slowed their steps, the giggles fading into silence. The fresh-faced girls around Xiao Mei, whose names were not mentioned were staring at the young man who once was considered the pride of the family, their delicate features showing an indescribable sense of pity or something more. Xiao Mei paused mid-step, entangled within herself, feeling deep-down she really desired to chat freely with the boy who once made a girl’s heart flutter. Yet current realism stated the widening gap kept them worlds afar, and keeping an emotional hold on a cripple was not only irrational. Arching her slender leaf-brows with deliberation and letting them relax slowly, she gave a slight helplessness a thought. *“I suppose I should greet him at least — blood or not, he technically is my cousin anyway…”,* thought Xiao Mei internally.
Yan Xiao however approached indifferently with hands cushioning the back of his head — completely oblivious to Xiao Mei’s thoughts. As Yan grew near, a smile was just about to appear across Mei’s cute little face, but the young man didn’t acknowledge her presence at all. As he ambled nonchalantly past their little group of women without a backward glance, that nearly visible joy on Xiao Mei’s visage froze on her face comically – much like in theatrical scenes gone wrong. Her cherry red lips slightly open mid-breath watching the fading back, Xiao Mei was astonished; who would expect she’d face neglect based solely on appearance? Irritation rising alongside wounded pride within, the name spilled involuntarily off her tongue: *“Cousin Yan…”* Hearing her loud voice break the awkward air around him, Yan simply paused just a notch within motion — not a rotation did his back provide back nor did his face acknowledge any change. *“Anything?”* The cold tone — as if two unknown paths met mid-solitary travel, caused Mei to stutter her response in pause: *“N-no…”*. Yan raised one curious eyebrow slightly upward, gave no concern, shrugged uncaringly, then simply kept on walking without regard.
Afterwards though — the small path behind saw a young female form stomp with obvious indignacy then following behind. Upon turning a sharp corner with no warning — his sight found a massive chamber ahead, with an ancient plaque inscribed with calligraphic crimson text proclaiming *”Techniques of Martial Struggle”.*
Amid murmurs and shouting of practice ringing loudly within, Xiao Yan’s eyes opened with surprise: “*Rare to have so much activity… must be something happening…*”, shrugging off the thought as if dust, Yan made a random note to investigate but instead dismissed it completely entering the great hall casually.
From the very first footstep indoors, waves of excited cheering of youths echoed the grand room. Upon entering, Yan’s gaze was met split sections: eastern section displayed family martial archives, while west formed into an arena bustling with clustered spectators enthralled in two fighters currently dueling.
*“Did anyone see how thick the aura of Dou Qi (斗气) around Cousin Xiao Ning was—looks almost like he’s at the apex of eight segments”*
*“That’s already confirmed since two moons passed”* chuckled one excitedly.
*“He’s on par but Cai Lin exceeds all boundaries with completion of Ninth Segment! Seems Xiao Ning’s chance might’ve been swept under the rug…!”*
*“.Cai Lin…! Go! Go!”*
Caught up in roaring admiration spilling between crowds around, Yan decided then that this was adequate time to cease wandering and begin observation. Scanning the battleground, his curious view halted upon a fair maiden robed elegantly in lavender garb with eyes reflecting intrigue. *Does she fancy martial play so much? Even now when none requested so much attention?*, he asked silently. Stopping beside an ancient oak on the eastern portion, he nonchalantly pulled down some dusty black scrolls from the wooden rack besides him… unfurling which exposed large words scrawled onto parchment: *“YELLOW SECTION: GRADE MEDIUM! Smash-Palm Art”.*
As though a ghost himself haunting ancient tomes, Xiao Yan immersed deeply into perusing Smash-Pulse Art while glancing once in a while towards the duellists in the arena. Here within the grand room, separated like two worlds—west side noisy, and east side tranquil and still.
Cai Lin fought a youthful figure—probably late teens, well groomed and as beautiful to behold as the day Xiao Galli was praised. Named Xiao Ning, he was grandson of the Grand Elder—an exceptionally talented martial descendant already ranked 8 of 10 of the Dou Qi scale at merely 17 years—within ancestral line, only young Lin could challenge such growth.
For Xiao Yan personally, he barely recognized this distant “relative” due to infreqeunt exchanges and coldly mannered greetings that led nowhere—perhaps their families had some silent rift or else this boy was silently resentful? And considering years prior where Xiao Yan had fallen into weakness (衰败), such indifference made even more sense—hence, for three whole cycles, this young gentleman did not dare approach Yan in open hostility out of prideful silence.
But brushing away thoughts with an ambiguous smirk, Yan continued absorbing palm-breaking techniques quietly without further ado.
At the battleground — Cai glowed as ephemeral as soft purple butterflies—elusive and agile from the ferous punches Xiao launched—graceful in every gesture yet untroubled, like a mirror still pond on calm spring. Her hands, in lazy fashion, parried yet another strike — with expression never shifting, she began drifting her vision past the entire great hall when suddenly her motion halted. Eyes landing on the figure resting against a wooden book rack buried deep in scroll—on face formed one tender smile so fragile yet radiant.
From the observers near, even the most restless could’ve sworn they forgot to blink.
*“Cai!”* came a young male’s alarmed warning *，“Watch out!”.*
At the shouted caution, Lin’s face revealed momentary curiosity yet kept the smile, now refocusing her gaze once more on the young scholar leaning in the scrolls corner. Coincidentally so Yan’s head rose up—eyes meeting in midair above the fray.
His expression immediately furrounded—shook his head wearily then gazed with worry—too subtle to be apparent but definitely felt.
Perceiving concern in Yan silently watching from behind—Lin’s long lashes winked flirtatious—her body twisting sideways with uncanny ease evading every blow precisely. Her jade-like arms released soft bursts of radiance—like petals cutting through the wind—flow between Xiao Ning’s palm storms and eventually brushed against his chest ever so lightly.
The force barely more than a feather yet sufficient—the arena felt silent a breath before Lin elegantly turned, her lithe frame pirouetting backward as Xiao was sent soaring off the training floor entirely—landing well past the line, defeated.
Stunned hush turned to erupt in applause moments after. *“Cai you’ve really grown stronger than all of my generation, as expected of family’s most promising young talent…”* spoke Xiao warmly with undiminished grin, though retreating feet had been clearly defeated. Gazing upon Lin—flowers paled against such splendor, and though titled kith… he’d long ceased holding restraint, having confirmed over generations blood no bar united the two.
She remained oblivious or uncaring as always and responded coldly polite *;“Xiao Ning’s modest, please…”.* Without further invitation she then turned towards that quiet reader who dwelled still amongst the bookshelves at the hall entrance with a cheerful grace—drawing the gaze following.
All eyes followed the movement—Cai walking with a smile towards the quiet scholar amidst the scrolls. Yet that said scholar gave not slightest notice despite the hundreds boring into his figure—engrossed still in his own serene bubble—unperturbed.
Amidst the sea of astonished gazes fixated solely upon both Lin and Yan’s reunion, Xiao Ning silently stepped from view… smiling still, eyes hidden shadow behind him.
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