I lay on something soft.
Not the cold ground I was used to… not rough, not hard, but something that held me, gently, like it didn't want to let me fall.
My eyes opened slightly.
Not fully.
Just enough to see shapes.
Blurred figures moved around me, their voices low, heavy with concern, their words drifting in and out like distant echoes.
"His wounds are really deep…"
"The cut reopened…"
"There's a small fracture in his ankle… it can heal, but…"
Their voices overlapped, serious, careful as if even speaking too loudly might break whatever fragile state I was in.
I couldn't see their faces clearly.
But I could feel it.
Worry.
A figure stood a little apart from them.
Still.
Silent.
Watching.
Qian.
He didn't interrupt.
Didn't question.
He simply stood there, listening to every word as if each one weighed something inside him down further.
And when they finally finished, when their voices faded and they prepared to leave-
he bowed.
Quietly.
Respectfully.
Silence followed.
"…His wounds are that deep?" he murmured to himself, his voice low, almost lost.
A pause.
"I should have listened to sister Piao…"
His fingers tightened slightly at his side.
"…What have I done…"
The words came slower now, heavier.
"…How was he still able to move in that state… and fight like that…?"
Another pause.
Longer.
"…Is he even-"
His voice stopped.
Because he saw me.
Our eyes met.
Or… almost.
Mine barely open, his sharp enough to catch it instantly.
He stepped closer.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
Just… drawn.
"You're awake…?"
Something in his voice had changed.
Not the usual calm control.
Something quieter.
He looked down.
Not at me--
but at himself.
For the first time…
he looked unsure.
Then-
his shoulders tensed.
His hand trembled.
Just slightly.
"…Sorry."
The word came out in a whisper.
Soft.
Almost fragile.
He didn't look at me when he said it.
Didn't meet my eyes like he always did.
I stared at him.
That word…
I had seen it before.
In books.
Written between lines, spoken by characters that felt distant and unreal.
Words that existed…
but never reached me.
I had never heard it.
Not like this.
Not from someone real.
I didn't even fully understand it.
Not its weight.
Not its meaning.
But I could read something else.
Something easier.
Something written clearly across his face.
Emotion.
I leaned back slightly, my head sinking into the softness beneath me as my gaze drifted to the ceiling.
"…Why would you say that," I murmured slowly, my voice still weak, "to someone who doesn't even understand what it means?"
He didn't react immediately.
Didn't argue.
Didn't correct me.
Instead, he sat down beside me.
Close.
"…Yeah?" he said quietly.
I turned my head slightly, my gaze finding him again.
"…Yeah."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then-
without warning-
he moved.
His arms came around me carefully, gently, as if even the smallest mistake would shatter me completely.
He pulled me closer.
Not forcefully.
Not possessively.
Just… carefully.
Like I was something fragile.
I felt the warmth of him then.
Through the thin layers between us.
Steady.
Real.
He looked down at me, his gaze meeting mine properly this time.
Clear.
Unwavering.
"Sleep now."
There was no command in it.
No force.
Just something quiet.
Something that didn't need to be obeyed-
yet was.
I didn't question it.
Didn't ask why I was in his arms again.
Didn't pull away.
Because for the first time-
I felt something unfamiliar.
Safe.
My fingers tightened slightly against him as he adjusted his hold, making it easier for me to rest, more comfortable than anything I had ever known.
And before I could think any further-
sleep took me again.
When I woke up, the world was different.
Quiet....Still.
Midnight.
Qian lay beside me, his breathing slow and even, his presence no longer sharp or overwhelming but… calm.
A blanket covered me.
Soft.
Warm.
Carefully, I pushed it aside and sat up, making sure not to wake him.
For a moment, I looked at him.
At the man who had stood like a blade just hours ago-
now resting like nothing in the world could disturb him.
Then I stood.
Silently, I stepped out.
The halls stretched endlessly.
Large.
Too large.
The kind of place that didn't feel like a home but something else.
Something with history.
With secrets.
My footsteps were light, almost soundless as I walked, my eyes taking in everything.
The walls.
The shadows.
The silence.
Then--...a light.
Faint.
Flickering in the distance.
I moved toward it.
Slowly....Carefully....Voices.
I stopped just before the doorway, pressing myself slightly against the wall as their words reached me.
"…his wounds are too deep…"
"Where did he even get them from…?"
"…he's not that child-"
"We shouldn't talk about that."
"If he is… Master will know."
"…and if he is…"
A pause.
"…the King should decide."
My breath stilled.
"King Lan?" another voice whispered. "You know he's nothing more than a puppet of the General--"
A hand touched my shoulder.
Cold....Sudden....I froze...
"…What are you doing here?", Qian.
His voice was low.
Right behind me.