The journey back to the camp was calm and peaceful, the world feeling almost as though it were waking up from the long winter slumber. Li Wuxin and Xu Moyao walked side by side, the pace unhurried, as the last traces of morning mist lifted in the sunlight. 

The air was fresh, carrying the scent of new growth, and the distant hum of the village still lingered in their minds, like a gentle memory. Every now and then, Li Wuxin would glance over at Xu Moyao, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the thought of the small moments they had shared in the village.

 There were no rushed steps now, no pressing tasks, just the comfortable silence between them, a quiet connection that felt as natural as breathing. 

As they reached the gates of the camp, the sounds of soldiers preparing for their duties reached them, but for a moment, it felt like the world was a little kinder, a little softer. The camp, too, was waiting for them, but the peace of the village had given them a gentle reassurance, and that feeling lingered with them as they stepped back into the bustle of their responsibilities.

 The days stretched slowly. Winter, which seemed to have settled for an eternity, began to retreat, like a heavy blanket being unfolded to reveal the gentleness of a new season. 

The snow melted in little streams that meandered along the paths, carving silver veins under the faint afternoon sun.

 The village still seemed asleep under winter's weight. 

Li Wuxin stepped quietly out of the room, the early morning light still soft and muted. 

He had a kettle of water in his hand, knowing that Xu Moyao would be out in the courtyard by now, practicing his swordplay. It had almost become a habit, each day since their return, the sound of the sword cutting through the air, the steady rhythm of movement, and the occasional pause when Moyao would take a sip of water that Li Wuxin had brought him.

 As he walked toward the courtyard, the familiar sight of Xu Moyao in motion was missing. Li Wuxin's steps slowed, and the unease crept up his spine. 

The courtyard was empty, the air still, save for the faint rustling of leaves. He frowned, looking around, half-expecting to catch sight of his figure in the distance, his sword flashing through the air. But there was nothing.

 The stillness of the morning seemed to press in on him. He walked over to the spot where Xu Moyao typically stood, hoping for any sign that he had just stepped away, but there was no trace of him. 

The place felt strangely hollow without him. 

Li Wuxin's the weight of his sudden unease starting to settle in his chest. He returned to the room, checking once more, the silence wrapping around him like a heavy cloak. No note, no sign of where he had gone, nothing to explain the absence. His thoughts raced, growing heavier with each passing second. 

Where had he gone? 

For a moment, the room seemed too small, the silence too thick. Li Wuxin's mind flashed back to their quiet mornings together, the easy exchanges, the feeling that, for once, everything was just right. He stepped outside again, his steps unsteady as he searched for any sign of where Xu Moyao had gone. 

No, he wouldn't leave without saying anything, he thought, as if repeating the words to himself could solidify the truth. Xu Moyao was not the type to slip away without a word, doubt crept in like an uninvited guest, settling at the edge of his thoughts. It nagged at him, whispering the quiet possibility that things could change in ways he couldn't control.

Doubt lingered, persistent and quiet, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. He tried to shake it off, but it wrapped itself around him, like a shadow he couldn’t outrun. He wanted to believe that Xu Moyao wouldn't leave without a word—that he'd stand his ground and say something, anything—but there was that gnawing feeling, a sense that perhaps, just perhaps, everything could change in an instant, without warning.

A few days had slipped by in the quiet rhythm of uncertainty, each one blending into the next, but still, there was no sign of Xu Moyao, and the weight of his absence grew heavier with each passing hour.

 Li Wuxin sometimes stood by the window of the small room, watching the world outside with a thoughtful gaze. 

He felt, without quite understanding why, that the calm they had found was fragile. The silences shared with Xu Moyao, the small conversations of no importance, and the moments when, fleetingly, their gazes would meet and linger in unspoken understanding, were forming something new, a quiet complicity

There was something in the air, a soft but persistent tension. Something he didn't yet fully understand, but that tugged at him, growing stronger each day. In the mornings, he continued to prepare two cups of tea, even though Xu Moyao no longer came to share them with him. He would set the extra cup on the table with a sigh that no one could hear, except perhaps the wind that blew gently through the windows. The small routines, even the most trivial ones, had a comforting quality. 

In this little room, between the wooden walls, Li Wuxin sometimes found himself lost in thought, his fingers wrapped around the warm porcelain. 

That morning, as the light of day seemed to stretch slowly through the curtains, Li Wuxin stopped, teapot in hand. His eyes settled on the empty chair opposite him, and he felt something, something heavy, like a stone dropping in his stomach. He shook his head, trying to push away the thought that had crept in, but it lingered.

 Why wasn't he here? Why hadn't he come back? It was absurd.

"Had he gone back north, where his duties awaited ? "

 He was a soldier. He belonged to the Northern Nation, he had a mission to fulfill. That made sense, didn't it? Xu Moyao's fate was elsewhere. He belonged to Xuêtie.

 That's what Li Wuxin told himself, but he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness, an absence so tangible it weighed on his shoulders.

 He shook his head again, trying to dismiss the voice of the question that spiraled endlessly in his mind. He didn't have time for this. Not here, not now. He had to keep going. He had no reason to dwell on his emotions. "I'll make him a cup of tea, that's all," he murmured, as if to reassure himself. And he did, preparing the second cup with the precision of a long-standing routine.

 Later in the day, when he returned to the pavilion that evening, he froze in the hallway. The door to Xu Moyao's room was open, but the inside was empty. The bed was made, the blanket neatly folded. Tthere was no trace of his presence. 

The air suddenly felt heavier, like a fog had settled in his mind. And without thinking, he began to run outside. Hoping for clues, as if he could summon his presence by sheer force of will.

"Please tell me he isn't gone."

 Li Wuxin went to the stable, but the horses were there, calm, with no signs of a hasty departure. He wandered through the camp, but night had already fallen, and everything seemed calm, too calm.

Since Xu’s disappearance, this was the sixth time he had found himself here , in the stable, hoping, praying, for a sign of return, a fleeting moment of reassurance that maybe, just maybe, his absence wasn’t permanent

No one had seen him leave, not even the sentinel. Li Wuxin felt his heart tighten. He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't find any anger. Only confusion, only incomprehension. He convinced himself that it was normal, that Xu Moyao must have left for reasons that were neither surprising nor personal. He was a man of duty, after all, a man accustomed to war. 

The Northern Nation must have needed him. He returned to the pavilion, his mind drowning in a fog of thoughts. The teapot was still on the table, and the cup of tea, like a useless offering, remained there. He pushed it aside and sat, his eyes fixed on the flickering light of the lamp.

Li Wuxin’s hands clenched into fists, the tension in his body radiating like an electric current. The silence in the room had stretched too long, thick with unspoken words. He could feel the weight of frustration building inside him, rising with each passing moment. It had been too much—too many unanswered questions, too much waiting.

Without warning, his fist slammed down onto the table. The force was so violent that the cups perched there tipped over, spilling their contents across the surface. And then, in a swift, furious motion, he swept the remaining cups off the edge. They crashed to the floor in a violent symphony of broken porcelain, shards scattering like jagged memories.

The sound of shattering porcelain echoed in the room, reverberating in his chest, but Li Wuxin didn’t care. His breath came in ragged gasps, each exhale a release of the anger he could no longer contain. His eyes burned with frustration, not just at the situation, but at himself, for allowing it to build to this point.

He stared at the mess he had made, the broken pieces of the cups scattered across the floor, and for a moment, the anger gave way to something else—an overwhelming weariness. But the moment passed, and with a final, frustrated grunt, he turned away, unwilling to look at the destruction he'd left in his wake.

 The night was long. He lay down, but sleep wouldn't come. His thoughts tormented him, circling tightly, like leaves blown by the wind. What did this departure mean? Why had he left him alone after everything they had shared? 

He closed his eyes, but his mind stayed awake. In the room next door, he could hear Lu Xiaoquian moving around in the night. For a moment, it felt like she was just as restless as he was. Then, he heard the quiet sound of footsteps, light and deliberate. She was up, he thought, probably unable to sleep herself. Moments later, a soft knock echoed on the door, followed by the gentle creak of it opening. "Master," Lu Xiaoquian's voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable note of concern in her tone.

 She stepped inside, holding a steaming cup of tea in her hands. "I thought you might need this." Li Wuxin opened his eyes slowly, meeting her gaze. The faint light from the lanterns in the hallway cast a soft glow on her face, her expression a mix of worry and quiet resolve.

 "You didn't have to," he murmured, his voice hoarse from lack of rest.

 She didn't answer at first. Instead, she walked over to the small table beside him and placed the cup gently in front of him. 

There was a moment of silence. Li Wuxin stared at the tea, its steam rising in delicate swirls. 

He didn't reach for it at once. Part of him wanted to push it away, to stay lost in his thoughts, but the warmth of the cup was tempting, like a small kindness that he hadn't known he needed.

 "I... don't know what to think anymore," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. She remained standing by the table, her eyes soft but unwavering. 

"It's okay not to know. But you're not alone in this."

 "You remember this? I'm surprised you still remember that, I barely do myself.

 "I still remember everything you told me."

 Li Wuxin finally reached for the tea, the warm liquid soothing as he took a sip. It didn't erase the uncertainty, but it grounded him in the present, in the simple act of holding something warm in his hands. 

"Thank you,"

 He said quietly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the night. Lu Xiaoquian gave a small nod, then turned to leave. Before she closed the door, she paused and spoke again, her words lingering in the air like a quiet promise. 

"They will come back, both" she said, as much for herself as for him. 

"When the time is right." 

 Li Wuxin didn't respond. Instead, he sat in the silence, letting the warmth of the tea seep through him, trying to convince himself that everything would be alright. As the door clicked shut, he finally allowed his tired body to rest, though his mind still clung to the unanswered questions and the absence that seemed to echo louder than anything else.

By morning, he got up, exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

 He moved mechanically toward the table, preparing a cup of tea. Another one, as though warm liquid could dissipate the pain that had lodged in his heart. But when he lifted the cup, the room felt emptier than ever.

 He waited for Xu Moyao to return. He expected the door to burst open, the sound of his steps to echo in the hall. But nothing.

 "You're going to come back, you promised you'd never leave, remember?" he murmured to the cup of tea, as though to reassure himself. But he was no longer sure of anything. Lu Xiaoquian entered the room, her face marked by sleepless nights. She paused for a moment when she saw Li Wuxin, and her gaze softened. 

"You haven't slept, have you?" she added, her tone full of concern.

 "You can't go on like this. He'll come back when he can." But Li Wuxin knew, somewhere deep inside, that it wasn't that simple.