The small room smelled of crushed herbs and drying bandages. Evening light filtered through the paper screen window, casting soft golden streaks across the wooden floor. Outside, the sect moved on—chatter, footsteps, the distant clash of metal. But here, time had slowed.
Yue sat by Kai's bedside, sleeves rolled and hair tied back, her hands deft as they applied a salve to the bruising along his ribs. Her touch was careful, but firm.
Kai winced. "You're good at this."
"I've had practice," she replied, dipping the cloth into a bowl of warm water. "Most of it on myself."
He opened his eyes to study her. The usual calm on her face hadn't wavered, but there was something gentler in her posture tonight. Less guarded.
"Why did you stay?"
She paused. "Because they went too far."
Kai shifted, trying to sit more upright despite the dull ache pulsing through his side. Yue adjusted the pillow behind him without being asked.
"You didn't have to," he said.
"I know."
A silence stretched between them, not awkward, but charged.
Kai exhaled slowly. "You're different from the others."
Yue raised an eyebrow. "You say that like you understand people."
He managed a faint smirk. "I understand what they're not."
She looked away for a moment, eyes tracing the outline of the window frame. Then, softly: "You hide so much of yourself, Kai. Why?"
He didn't answer at first. The weight of it all pressed heavy in his chest. His past life, his secrets, the voice within him that never quite slept.
"Because if they knew what I was... what I could become..."
She met his gaze again. "Then what? They'd fear you?"
"Or worse. Use me."
Another pause.
Then, she spoke, quieter now. "I won't."
Kai blinked. "What?"
"Use you. I won't. Whatever you are, whatever you're hiding—it doesn't scare me."
The words hung between them like the dusk itself. His breath caught in his throat.
He had no answer.
Her hand lingered against his arm a moment longer before she rose and moved to gather the bandages.
"You should rest. The medicine will keep the pain down."
Kai nodded, though sleep was the last thing on his mind.
As she moved to the door, he found himself speaking without thought.
"Yue."
She turned.
"Thank you."
The corners of her lips lifted, faintly.
"Don't thank me yet," she said. "You still owe me a spar. When you can stand."
Then she was gone, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft click.
Kai lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
And for the first time in this life, warmth settled in his chest that wasn't from cultivation or pain.
It was something else entirely.
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