We stepped through the simple wooden doorway into the small dining hall. The aroma of steamed rice, sizzling meat, and sweet plum wine wrapped around us like a familiar embrace.
"It's not quite your taste, I know," I said, trying to keep my voice light and casual, though my chest still felt painfully tight. "But it's warm, and it's quiet."
I pulled out a chair for him with polite formality, and after a pause, he sat down without a word. His every movement was graceful, measured, but his eyes remained unreadable.
I sat opposite him, folding my hands on the table, not knowing where to place them, what to say, or even how to breathe.
The waiter hurried over, bowing nervously under Ruan Yanjun's gaze. "Sirs… your orders?"
I quickly placed mine, hoping to fill the awkward silence. The waiter's eyes flicked anxiously to Ruan Yanjun, waiting for his reply.
Ruan Yanjun didn't speak. Instead, his cold gaze fixed briefly on the man, who immediately lowered his head, visibly trembling.
I let out a quiet sigh and stepped in, offering the waiter a small smile. "He'll have the braised beef with winter bamboo shoots, lotus buns, and hot plum soup," I said, choosing the dishes I remembered he favored during our past travels.
As the waiter bowed and retreated, I remained still—until a flicker of alarm suddenly registered in my mind.
Wait. Braised beef? Winter bamboo shoots? Plum soup?
My breath caught as I did a quick mental tally. Those weren't just any dishes—they were some of the most expensive ones on the menu. I, Luo Fan, the foolish sect leader of Storm Surge—a sect with barely enough funds to patch our leaking roof—had just ordered them without hesitation.
A pang of guilt bloomed in my chest.
That's three days of sect rations… maybe four.
I swallowed and resisted the urge to call the waiter back. No, it was too late. The dishes were likely already being prepared. Besides, this was for a good cause… wasn't it?
Even so, a small part of me winced at dipping into our dwindling coffers just to treat the wealthiest sect leader on the continent to a decent meal.
Before I could dwell on it further, Ruan Yanjun's gaze fixed on me—sharp, piercing, and impossible to escape.
"Did those fools send you after me to convince me to join their pathetic cause?" he asked, his voice low, calm, but laced with cold amusement.
I froze for a moment, though his question hardly surprised me. Ruan Yanjun had always possessed an unsettling ability to see through people. At his age, perhaps human schemes were nothing more than predictable patterns, easy to unravel.
"That's not the only reason," I replied, trying to steady my voice and sound sincere.
He leaned back slightly, folding his arms, studying me with narrowed eyes. "Then what is it? Why are you pestering me?"
His bluntness struck harder than I expected. I swallowed, my throat tightening. "I just… wanted to thank you," I managed finally.
His lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "You don't owe me anything. You saved me once. This merely repays the debt."
The casual dismissal stung more than I cared to admit. I lowered my gaze, fumbling for words I hadn't yet gathered the courage to speak aloud.
A quiet turmoil churned inside me. Hadn't I once wished to distance myself from him? To sever the tangled emotions he stirred within me? And yet here I was, chasing after him, desperate to reclaim something I could no longer clearly define.
I shook the thought away, forcing myself to breathe. When I saw him again after so many months, I realized I missed him more than I was willing to confess. Perhaps I only wished for civility between us again, as I kept telling myself. But even that felt like a lie.
"If there's nothing else," Ruan Yanjun said, voice cool, preparing to rise from his seat, "then I'll take my leave."
Panic seized me. Without thinking, I blurted, "Wait! There's one more thing." My voice came out louder than intended.
He stilled, exhaling slowly before settling back into his chair. "Fine. Speak."
I hesitated, my mind racing to find the right words, aware that his patience would not last long.
"…Lord Ruan," I began, hesitant but earnest, "about what I said last time… I didn't mean it."
His eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sharp smirk. "Oh, you meant it," he said smoothly. "You asked for it. And I've merely done what you requested."
I exhaled heavily, my shoulders sinking beneath the weight of my own regret. "At the time, I thought that's what I wanted." My voice softened. "But I was wrong. Can I take those words back?"
His smirk deepened, but something flickered behind his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or something far more vulnerable, far more dangerous.
"And once you convince me to join their little coalition, we'll return to pretending we don't know each other." His voice was quieter now, edged with bitterness. "Is that how this will go?"
I lowered my gaze. That had not been my intention, yet I could not blame him for assuming it.
"You said you wanted nothing to do with me," he continued, voice steady but cool. "So what are you doing here? Why are you following me around now?"
My heart twisted painfully. The answer had always been there, buried beneath everything I tried so hard to suppress.
"I was frightened," I whispered at last.
He fell silent, the sharp edge in his gaze softening, as if my answer both surprised him and unsettled him.
I cleared my throat and kept my gaze lowered, afraid to meet his eyes—afraid that if I did, I would see mockery there, see him laughing at my weakness.
"I… felt things that I wasn't ready to confront," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers curled tightly against the edge of the table as I forced myself to continue. "It frightened me, and I wanted to run away from it all. That's why I said those things. I was wrong… I'm sorry."
The words hung between us like fragile threads, and the heat rose to my cheeks as I waited—waited for a response that didn't come.
The silence stretched painfully, thick and suffocating, until the waiter returned with our food, breaking the unbearable stillness.
I mustered a small, nervous smile and reached for the serving spoon. I filled his bowl with soup and another bowl with rice. Gently, I pushed the bowls toward him.
"Enjoy the meal, my lord," I said softly, my voice trembling slightly despite my attempt at composure.
He sighed, the sound somewhere between resignation and quiet exasperation. But then, without a word, he picked up his chopsticks and, to my surprise, placed a portion of vegetables and meat into my bowl in return.
The gesture was subtle. Simple. But coming from him, it spoke louder than any words.
A tentative smile crept across my face. I understood him well enough to know—this was his way of accepting my apology.
We ate in silence, the distance between us both familiar and foreign. We had once traveled together, eaten countless meals side by side, even shared dangers and nights beneath the same sky. Still, after everything that had passed between us, we sat like two strangers fumbling to find their footing.
I found myself longing for the easy, unguarded camaraderie I once shared with his other selves—Feng'er's childlike devotion, Lan Feng's quiet tenderness. With them, I had felt seen. Understood. Cherished. But here, with the man before me now, there was a wall—a heavy, invisible wall I could not scale.
When the meal ended, I rose to pay the bill. He stood as well—seizing the moment to slip away.
By the time I stepped outside, he was already a short distance ahead, his long strides carrying him steadily forward.
I hurried to catch up. Fortunately, he hadn't gone far, and I managed to fall into step beside him.
"Lord Ruan," I said softly, grasping for any thread of conversation that might draw us closer again. "Earlier… you mentioned coming to see a particular person."
He gave a low, noncommittal hum.
"Did you see him?" I asked gently, hoping—perhaps foolishly—that he had been referring to me.
"I did."
"And?"
"And what?" he returned, his tone cool, carefully guarded.
I hesitated, knowing I shouldn't ask—but unable to stop myself. "Does his lordship mind sharing the name of that person?"
At last, he turned to look at me, his expression unreadable.
"I do," he said flatly.
The curt reply landed like a quiet slap. I forced a thin smile, pretending it didn't matter. "Understood."
Silence fell again as we walked side by side.
For the next half hour, I said nothing. But that one unanswered question gnawed at me, scratching beneath the surface with every step we took.
Was that particular person really me…
Or someone else entirely?
When we finally reached the gates of his residence, I hesitated. Why had I followed him this far without voicing my true purpose? The towering estate loomed before me, its grandeur stark against the fading light. It was a world that belonged to him—a world I never felt I belonged to.
As Ruan Yanjun approached, the gates opened in perfect synchronicity. A row of servants stood waiting, heads bowed low.
"Welcome back, Lord Ruan," they intoned in unison.
I lingered just outside the threshold, unsure whether to follow or quietly slip away. But before vanishing into the depths of his estate, Ruan Yanjun glanced over his shoulder. His eyes met mine for the briefest moment, and he gave a faint nod—barely perceptible, but unmistakably meant for me.
At that small gesture, several servants approached.
"Priest Luo," one of them said politely, bowing. "This way, please."
I followed, still uncertain. The lavishness of the surroundings was overwhelming—intricate carvings adorned every pillar, precious silks draped from the ceilings, and crystal lanterns cast a warm, steady glow along the corridors.
I instinctively searched for Ruan Yanjun as I walked, but he was already being led in the opposite direction, vanishing behind another corridor.
"Can I go with Lord Ruan?" I asked, halting. My voice was steady, but my chest tightened with the need to see him, to speak before my resolve faltered again. "There's something important I need to say to him."
One of the servants shook his head with polite firmness. "I'm afraid Master cannot accommodate you at the moment. Someone important has been waiting to see him since this morning."
My stomach sank. "Will it take long?"
"Perhaps a couple of hours," the servant replied with a faint, professional smile.
I exhaled, glancing up at the sky. It was already mid-afternoon. By the time I returned to the inn, nightfall would have set in—and Li Yao and Xiao Delun would surely begin to worry. And yet… if I left now, would I be throwing away the only chance I might have to speak with him again?
Finally, they guided me into a room. I blinked, momentarily disoriented. The space was far grander than I expected. Silken drapes framed the tall windows, intricate jade screens divided the chamber, and at its center stood a massive bed draped in embroidered bedding.
"Is this where I'm supposed to wait for Lord Ruan?" I asked cautiously, unease rising in my chest.
The lady servant smiled serenely. "This is your room, Priest Luo. Master has instructed that you are his honored guest and will be staying the night."
My eyes widened. "There must be some mistake," I said quickly. "I never agreed to stay. I only came to speak with him."
I turned toward the door, intent on leaving. But just as I reached for the handle, three disciples stepped into my path. They were all women, each bearing a level-five cultivation badge. Their expressions were calm, respectful—but unyielding. A silent warning: I would not be permitted to leave so easily.
I could have forced my way past them, if I truly wished to. But the idea of harming women—even in self-defense—was something I could never stomach.
And Ruan Yanjun knew that.
He knew it all too well.
The lady servant stepped forward again, her tone still gentle, but firmer this time. "Master has also instructed us not to allow you to leave this room until he grants permission."
A long, frustrated breath escaped me. I pressed a hand to my forehead. "Lured into the devil's trap again," I muttered under my breath. "When will I ever learn my lesson?"
Turning back to the servant, I made one last attempt at reason. "My belongings are still at the inn. And my companions will worry if I don't return."
"You need not worry, Priest Luo," she replied smoothly. "Disciple Huang has already gone to the inn to retrieve your belongings. He will also bring your companions here."
Her words struck me like ice to the chest. "Why would he bring them here?" I asked sharply, suspicion flaring.
"To accompany you, of course," she said with that same placid, polite smile.
But the unease coiling in my chest only deepened. A creeping sense of foreboding stirred through me. What exactly did Ruan Yanjun intend for Li Yao and Xiao Delun? On the surface, the explanation seemed innocent enough. But I knew him far too well. Nothing he did was ever that simple.