Three days passed in a blur that felt both short and endless.
Xuanyan spent them buried in repetition, moving through the Martial Pavilion until the stone beneath his feet felt familiar enough to be mistaken for home. He poured nearly all his remaining system points into basic techniques—defensive stances, measured footwork, controlled breathing cycles. They were unremarkable on the surface, the kind of things that never earned praise, yet the system refined each motion with merciless precision. His body learned faster than his mind could keep up, muscles remembering paths they had never walked before, breath falling into rhythm without conscious effort.
It was efficient.
It was dull.
And it reminded him, constantly, of what he still lacked.
No matter how smooth his movements became, fundamentals could not replace real strength, nor could they substitute for the resources he did not yet possess. Until he gathered more points, this was all he could do—grind, endure, and wait.
He was still lost in that thought when a knock sounded at his door.
The sound was soft but firm, out of place in the early hours. Xuanyan frowned. No one ever sought him out this early, and certainly not without reason. He rose, crossed the room, and opened the door.
Warmth hit him before recognition did.
Someone stepped forward without hesitation, arms wrapping around him tightly, pressing close enough that his back brushed the door as it closed behind them. A familiar scent filled his senses—clean, faintly herbal, touched by morning air—and his thoughts stalled completely.
Senior Sister Mingling was holding him.
Her face was buried against his chest, her grip firm and unguarded, as if she had already decided that this was where she belonged. For a brief moment, Xuanyan could do nothing but stand there, feeling the heat of her body through the thin layers of cloth, feeling her breath rise and fall against him.
"Brother Xuanyan," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to betray her composure. "I missed you."
The words sank deeper than he expected.
Before he could answer, she spoke again, as if afraid silence might give doubt a chance to creep in. She told him about her breakthrough, about the moment the barrier finally gave way, about the clarity and relief that followed. Her voice shook with excitement, with disbelief, with joy she had clearly been holding onto until now.
"I didn't even think," she admitted softly. "I just… wanted to see you. I wanted you to know first."
She tightened her arms around him, hugging him again, and Xuanyan felt something in his chest loosen and tighten at the same time.
He reached back and shut the door, the quiet click sealing them into the room together.
System, he asked silently, her devotion level.
The response appeared instantly.
[Devotion: 75.]
His breath caught.
So that was it.
The trust. The closeness. The way she had come to him without hesitation, without fear of misunderstanding. This wasn't just gratitude anymore. It hadn't been for a while.
Xuanyan let out a slow breath and finally returned the embrace, resting his hand gently against her back. She fit against him easily, naturally, as though she had done this before in another life. The warmth of her body seeped into him, grounding him in a way cultivation never had.
"You really missed me that much?" he asked quietly, his voice softer than he intended.
She hesitated, then slowly pulled back just enough to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright but uncertain, and her fingers still clutched his sleeve as if letting go were not an option she was ready to consider.
"I didn't plan to come," she said. "I was just… happy. And when I thought about who I wanted to share it with, it was you."
Something tightened in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar.
Xuanyan lifted his hand and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. The motion was gentle, instinctive. "Then I'm glad you did."
Her breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as if she had more to say but couldn't find the words. The room fell quiet, not awkward, but heavy with things neither of them voiced aloud. Morning light filtered through the window, painting her features in soft gold, making her look almost unreal.
She took a half-step back, as if remembering herself, yet her hand remained on his sleeve, trembling faintly.
"You're shaking," he murmured.
"I know," she whispered. "Only you make me feel like this."
The admission settled between them, fragile and sincere.
Before he could second-guess himself, Xuanyan lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, softer than he had imagined. She froze instantly, eyes widening, breath stalling as if the simple touch had taken her by surprise.
"Mingling," he said quietly, "look at me."
She did, lashes fluttering, eyes shining with nervous anticipation. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, almost shyly, she leaned forward.
Her lips brushed his cheek.
The contact was fleeting, light enough that he might have imagined it if not for the way her breath trembled afterward. Realizing what she had done, she pulled back at once, flustered, color blooming across her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what came over me."
Xuanyan didn't let her retreat.
His hand steadied her face, guiding her closer again, his thumb brushing lightly along her cheekbone. "Don't apologize," he said softly. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Her eyes widened, then softened, something fragile and hopeful flickering within them.
When he kissed her, it was slow.
There was no rush, no urgency—only warmth, intention, and a careful sincerity that made the moment feel almost sacred. Her hands trembled as they rested against his chest, fingers curling into his robe as though anchoring herself. She leaned into him fully, trusting, her breath uneven as the world narrowed to the space between them.
The kiss deepened only slightly, still gentle, still restrained, carrying more emotion than heat. Xuanyan felt her relax against him, felt the tension leave her shoulders as she responded, hesitant at first, then more certain.
When they finally parted, her forehead rested against his, her eyes half-closed, her breathing soft and unsteady.
"So warm…" she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "So are you."
She laughed quietly, the sound filled with relief and something dangerously close to happiness. For a long moment, they stayed like that, close enough to feel each other's heartbeat, close enough that the rest of the world felt distant and irrelevant.
Inside his mind, the system chimed again.
[Devotion increased: 81.]
Xuanyan ignored it.
Mingling didn't pull away. Instead, she rested her head lightly against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as if committing it to memory. Her fingers relaxed, sliding from his sleeve to rest against his waist, hesitant but unafraid.
"I don't know what this makes us," she murmured. "But I want to stay like this… just a little longer."
Xuanyan lowered his chin, his hand sliding gently through her hair. She closed her eyes at the touch, leaning into him with quiet trust.
He didn't answer with words.
He answered with his action.[1]
[1] Next will be continuation of chapter 1