'Is his ordering not getting more annoying lately? I am thankful that I have..patience..'
Lìngxiāo was left staring, his smile pressed into a thin line and frozen. He said nothing. But the way his palm grew heated in a cold, clammy way only made him helplessly search for a moment to step outside this room—away from this topic. These questions did nothing but remind him how out of place he truly was. He had no name. No face. No origin.
What did he have, then, beyond these dangerous abilities that could only bring controversy?
Inside, he was chaos—a fox trapped in a cage he could not break. His heart, which he barely felt most days, now pounded not in his chest but in the veins of his head and neck, throbbing with every breath. His skin felt too tight, his bones too heavy.
Yet his face remained still. Only his eyes betrayed a faint flicker of the tension pressing down on him. His hand slowly clenched at his side, careful not to grip too hard—lest any of his uncontrollable power slip through.
Chóng Fēi looked at his eyes. His own gray gaze held an extra layer of tension, hiding the real glassy pools beneath—but Lìngxiāo did not know what that smoke was called. He only knew it burned.
'Wait. Have he actually minded his professional distance? I did not mean anything like that.'
"Explain yourself. Give me a solid reason to 'allow' you. And again—no lying." Chóng Fēi said, lower in tone than before, slightly unreasonable.
His eyes were awake, wide but not wide at all, as he stared at him, mindlessly tangling his thumb with a golden strand of his sleeve.
Lìngxiāo's gaze lowered to their boots, his head never bowing.
'What reason of mine would he ever call 'solid' without me feeling like choking? He really does not give space to anyone. Even now. What changed on him is his.. features..'
'He is doing nothing but pulling the issue for no reason.'
Chóng Fēi tilted his head lower, following Lìngxiāo's gaze. The golden strand gently slipped from his fingers as his hand returned to his hip—as if his posture had different shades, just as Lìngxiāo's did. "Speak to me while your eyes are here." He raised two fingers to his own eyes. "You are acting strange lately, while earlier you were far more different than this."
Lìngxiāo looked up—almost a roll of his eyes.
He could not explain how he felt about his own roots, things a grown tree could never see beneath the soil. But he said nothing. He had already shared more than he had ever shared with any grandmother who had cherished him.
A silence followed.
Only the soft rustle of their robes and the gentle ripple of Chóng Fēi's jade charm carved over the small snake symbol—marked 'official' as the heir—filled the space between them.
But his indifferent tone and sudden shift from friendly to guarded was like bitter medicine too harsh to swallow for a prince raised in isolation. His jaw tightened. Perhaps he was growing angry, second by second.
"I ordered you to speak, and you warn me with your damn eyes?!" He snapped.
His voice was loud enough to ring in Lìngxiāo's ears, but thankfully quiet enough not to leave the room. His hand raised—almost about to grip Lìngxiāo by the chin.
Lìngxiāo's breath caught, his throat tightening. His heart stopped—then spiked, pumping energy through every nerve, especially his arms. His fingers pressed lightly against his own palm. A flicker of something golden appeared and faded as fast as it came.
'No...'
His eyes widened slightly, his chin tilting up just a little—enough to avoid the hand aimed at his face.
But then—
Chóng Fēi's hand stopped right in front of Lìngxiāo's chin. It trembled faintly—but never touched.
"Damn fuck you, Lìngxiāo. You are getting me out of my nerves.." He muttered, lowering his hand sharply with an exhale through his nose. His chest rose and fell once—too visibly. "First with impressing, and now disappointment."
Lìngxiāo's eyes fluttered closed for a second as the hand never gripped his chin or neck—though his eyes had been slow to catch the detail. After all, cultivators were human too. His lips parted with the tiniest sigh, his heart still hammering against his ribcage.
'I was about to ruin things again.. by the memory of almost ruining a child's chamber.. what a karmic joke happening to me.'
His eyes stayed shut for a few seconds longer than he intended. His eyeballs moved restlessly behind his lids. His breathing was tight and controlled. He felt his nerves slowly, just barely, begin to calm. His palm was sweating softly and colder than before. But the warning was still alive.
'Concentrate. Do not remind yourself that you cannot see through the boundaries. Think of yourself.. as the boundary...nobody can break...'
Even his voice sounded cracked in his mind. Then he finally opened his eyes—but still, no words came. He just swallowed and took a small step back. His mind cleared just a little.
And then he realized what Chóng Fēi had said to him.
'D-did he just wish to... WHAT?!'
His cheeks and eyes burned again. He stared at Chóng Fēi in disbelief. Those words—his mind could not simply process them like any curse. They felt too real. Too intimate. Too much.
It was embarrassing to him in a way that went deeper than with others. No matter their gender or age. But especially Chóng Fēi—younger, same gender. Poor Chóng Fēi, who had no idea what he had just done.
Meanwhile, unaware of Lìngxiāo's spiraling thoughts, barely understanding what was going on inside him—Chóng Fēi's simple curse, always living beneath his tongue—had cut into Lìngxiāo and fallen hard on him like lightning.
His gaze flashed with silent tension. Perhaps he had overreacted. But he never apologized. He was about to say, "You just couldn't speak without—"
A sharp slap landed on his right cheek—by the back of his handiest, just as hard as Chóng Fēi's own curse, as if his words had returned as an action.
"DO NOT. call me that, CHONG. FĒI. GŌNG. ZǏ!"
Lìngxiāo's words landed too dark and too deep, almost hissing, golden-brown eyes looked darker then it have ever been.