But he never actually harmed anyone else or broke anything truly useful, unlike other angry people.
The glasses weren't even from this clan—they were leftovers from outside, which he told his guards or Zì Hāo to collect for him.
Then he would gather the broken pieces again them and give them to Zì Hāo, who could reverse objects back to their original form.
His head fell back, facing the ceiling blankly. But he at least felt lighter than before. He didn't even want to think about all the things that had kept him on edge today.
Downstairs, the hall was silently buzzing with high-ranked disciples of the clan, who usually sat with them for all meals. The soft clicking sounds of chopsticks and bowls made the day sound lighter—though it had been nothing less than a nightmare.
'Nothing changes here.. no matter if anyone dies physically or mentally.'
"Yèn, Xì?" He called out softly to something—someone, perhaps—tiny in his room. His tone was familiar. "Clean up.. I'm going for lunch."
Two circling bowls came out of his closet, moving around because of the spiritual powers he had placed inside them since childhood. They were like his friends, helping him with this tiny ritual.
One bowl collected the glass pieces. Another collected the torn paper and burned it away so no one would know what he had written.
After collecting, they stood in front of him like little children showing off their accomplishments. The glass pieces faintly sparkled in the bowl, and the paper pieces had turned to ashes.
"Thanks, buddies." He muttered softly, a little tiredly, giving light taps of his finger over them like petting. His nails made soft sounds over their rims.
They purred. Yèn moved to the closet to collect the glass pieces into a large wooden box, while Xì went to put the paper ashes into the fireplace, leaving no trace behind.
Once they were done and gone back to their places like they were only ordinary objects, he stood up, fisting his hurting shoulder, and walked deliberately toward the door.
**
In the corridor, his gaze fell on Lìngxiāo's chamber door. It was still closed like before—not locked from the outside, but from the inside. The lamp was off—he couldn't see anything through the curtain shadows.
'Should I call him for lunch? Or is a nap more important for him than this?'
His gaze flickered toward the stairs. The disciples bowed. His father had just arrived at the dining hall. He seemed to ask something to the disciples, who shook their heads.
Chóng Féng tilted his head faintly before his gaze moved toward the stairs. Chóng Fēi quickly looked away and stood a little to the side—out of reach, so his father couldn't see him fully. He knew he didn't need to act like a thief now, but he didn't know why he felt the need to do it anyway.
It just felt safer.
'Don't be a loser, Chóng. We are fine now. All the unnecessary emotions are thrown away.'
He took a small breath, unconsciously fixed his collar though it was already fine. Then he moved toward the stairs.
'I should just let him sleep longer.'
So Chóng Fēi didn't go to call him. He silently walked past, heading downstairs, and soundlessly sat down at his fixed chair without properly taking their greetings or looking at his father.
But Chóng Féng tilted his head in silent confusion and asked, "Where is the boy?"
Chóng Fēi paused while chewing the beans like they were bitter. As planned, hiding a few things, he just said, "He will eat later.. at his chamber."
Chóng Féng paused mid-bite, his chopsticks hovering. Chóng Fēi could feel the heat of his gaze burning on him.
He put down his chopsticks. "He has to join. I demand everyone significant sit and eat in front of me." He snapped his fingers.
One guard came with a respectful bow.
"Knock at his chamber." His father ordered.
Chóng Fēi's eyes twitched faintly at how stubborn and pushing his father could be. He was making a small matter big again.
He exhaled and stood up from his seat. "Eh, stop right there. If you're so itching for it, then I'll call him myself."
The guard awkwardly stood and blinked, looking between father and son.
"Sit down." Chóng Féng looked at him with the driest, most judgmental eyes. "I have enough people for the task. A heir does not do such a thing."
Chóng Fēi pinched the bridge of his nose before biting back lightly, "You know what's common between common people and a heir? Both need to walk around a little. So I'm doing it—as part of my holy dieting."
"Your mouth would never stop, would it?" Chóng Féng exhaled. He got back to his eating, giving a light ting sound to his cup. "No need to wait for people. Continue your meal."
Then he asked his right-hand man, "My carriage is ready, is it not?"
He sounded almost like he was ignoring the fact that Lìngxiāo existed here—or perhaps Chóng Fēi too.
"Of course, Chóng Xiānsheng." The right-hand replied with a bow.
"Good." Chóng Féng moved his finger to the other guard—not pausing from actually knocking for Lìngxiāo.
'All he is trying to do is see if I was telling the truth or not. Maybe even test both of our patience in a wrong time.'
Chóng Fēi watched with a dry expression. His appetite was already long gone, yet he still showed up—and now his father wouldn't stop here either.
"Apologies for my late arrival. You must have waited too long for me."
Before he could refuse the guard and move himself, Lìngxiāo spoke.
Right now, he looked much better than before. He came down from upstairs with his usual calm confidence and that smile. His hair was tied a little differently—perhaps because of the clipping. The lock of hair that used to always hang forward, rolling down from the space in front of his ear, was now a thin braid, balanced with another and tied behind with his usual way of binding his hair.
The people in the hall silenced and bowed politely, but even the bow carried a silent awkwardness for some reason.
Chóng Fēi's gaze met his, clearly saying without voicing: didn't expect you to recover this fast.
Lìngxiāo just lightly and politely lowered his head—unlike their earlier, less professional behavior. He looked around lightly, noticing no pillow left for him to sit today. Chóng Féng didn't bother giving him a different one—but he also glared at Chóng Fēi like: don't you dare share your seat. That is not how we act.
But Chóng Fēi, already done with his emotional overdose today, didn't bother to obey him either. That was sure—he was just messing around again, calling Lìngxiāo here while leaving no seat and not ordering any disciple to give space either.
"You may sit beside me. The pillow is large enough for two people." Chóng Fēi said almost flatly—though he didn't really mean it kindly as he moved aside for Lìngxiāo.
When Lìngxiāo was about to politely decline, Chóng Fēi said again, "It's fine. Everyone present at this table is significant." His gaze lightly went to his father. "So it doesn't matter if one type of significant figure sits beside another type of significant."
Leaving no room for argument—not at least on something like seats—Lìngxiāo carefully sat down beside him.
"As you wish, Gōngzǐ." But Lìngxiāo sat a little awkwardly because he came, yes—but his bowl wasn't personal here.
'Oh, yeah. He's picky.'
"Pass a new set of cups and bowls. Not used before." He ordered one waiter, who immediately went to bring one.
Lìngxiāo looked at the way the man went to bring the bowl. Then he looked at Chóng Fēi. His eyelids were still a little tired, but they clearly said: it wasn't necessary.
"My order." Chóng Fēi muttered to him before looking at his father.
His father was looking at them like he was trying to read their body language—perhaps because they were arguing less than before.
"You are getting late. It's two o'clock." Chóng Fēi reminded his father without looking at him, focused on the food instead.
Chóng Féng blinked like he had just remembered again. He huffed faintly. "Brat." And then got back to his meal too.
Lìngxiāo hesitated to take the set before he started to comfortably eat from the new served bowl. His eyes held silent amazement, his smile softening.
"Thank you for taking care of my privacy, Gōngzǐ." He muttered quite softly to Chóng Fēi, like a tiny secret between classmates in class. His gaze stayed on the food.
Chóng Fēi felt like this thank you was a soothing balm to his aching chest. The purity and truthfulness in it was rare to find in this town.
It was like the bowl had saved him from another panic or something.
"No big deal. Just.. repaying for my stupidity." He muttered back, not looking at him either.
But he felt his shoulders weren't as tense anymore right now.
Lìngxiāo didn't say anything, but just nodded once.