“Shh!” Zuko placed his index finger to his lips, making a sharp gesturing for silence.
Fortunately, this was a small late-night eatery, and there were not many customers to begin with.
Zuko leaned closer and lowered his voice.
“You’re lucky you said that to me.
If anyone else heard such absurd words and reported you, you could look forward to a stay in the Boiling Rock.” “It…
it wouldn’t be that serious, would it?” Ren said, feeling a little guilty.
But after thinking it over carefully, Zuko’s words were not unreasonable, considering how seriously the people of the Fire Nation regarded honor.
The fact that the Agni Kai—a duel that essentially served as a legally binding contract of life and death—had still not been abolished was proof enough of that mindset.
“In any case, don’t say things like that again.” Zuko picked up his rice and began eating with his head lowered.
Ren nodded silently.
“Speaking of which, you’re the prince and a bender.
Why are you still working so hard to learn dual dao sword techniques?” Ren asked.
He wasn’t one to tolerate silence for long, resuming the conversation after only a brief pause.
Zuko looked up at him.
There was a trace of hesitation in his eyes, as if he was considering whether he should say it.
“My birth was a kind of fortune in itself.” Zuko said softly after a long pause.
“Azula once mentioned that when I was born, because my eyes lacked the ‘spark’ a firebender should have, my father believed I was a disgrace and intended to abandon me.” Ren had not expected Zuko to have such a past.
To encounter such malice at this age, yet only become somewhat extreme in temperament, was already quite good.
Before Ren could say anything to comfort him, Zuko said calmly, “Fortunately, at my mother’s and the Fire Sages’ request, Father gave me a chance to prove myself.
I truly am a firebender.
“For that, I’m grateful.” Alright, mystery solved, Ren thought.
The sole culprit behind Zuko and Azula’s warped personalities was entirely their biological father.
Ren said nothing, opting instead to gently pat Zuko on the shoulder.
At a moment like this, any attempt at reassurance would only serve to rub salt in an open wound.
Zuko clung to that gratitude toward his father simply because it allowed him to block out the harsh reality that Ozai had wanted to abandon him from the very beginning.
“Sorry.
I said something boring.” Zuko scratched his head.
“What about you, Ren?
Why did you learn swordsmanship?” “Because I have absolutely no talent for bending.” Ren propped up his chin, sounding rather helpless.
“What?
You’re not a bender?” “Hey, hey.
Why do I feel like you’re a little happy about that?” Ren tapped his chopsticks together with a clack in protest.
“No, no.
It’s just that someone as talented as you still has things he can’t do, and that suddenly makes me feel more relaxed,” Zuko hurriedly explained.
Ren actually did not mind much.
Maybe he had traded his bending talent for the cheat ability of recollection.
Besides, in this world, the vast majority of people were not benders.
Plenty of people could not bend, and they still lived their lives just fine.
Ren smiled and continued picking up food with his chopsticks.
“I’ve realized you’re the kind of person who, once someone else surpasses you, will grit your teeth and risk everything to catch up.
As an ordinary person, my talent isn’t worth mentioning.
If I end up on the battlefield one day, I might have to rely on you to protect me.” Zuko was embarrassed by the praise and scratched his head.
“It’s not like that.
I’m just the clumsy bird that flies first.
Even now, whether it’s bending or swordsmanship, I’m nothing impressive.” Ren took a large bite of a rich, fatty piece of meat, then raised the tea cup beside him, which had already gone warm.
With sincere blessing, he said, “I believe that the heavens reward diligence.
Stories of geniuses who achieve everything overnight don’t belong to people like us.
“Being tempered a hundred times into steel—that’s the path people like us should walk.
But before that, you have to first believe that you can do it.
Keep going.” Zuko froze, a sudden sting pressing behind his eyes.
This was the first time anyone had acknowledged him.
Because his younger sister Azula was too outstanding, Zuko had always been denied.
No matter how hard he worked, he never received his father’s or his firebending teacher’s recognition.
He immediately fumbled a little as he picked up the tea cup beside him and clinked it against Ren’s.
“Thank you.
Truly…” Zuko lowered his head, his voice cracking slightly as a faint sob broke through his words.
Ren pretended not to notice the dampness at the corners of his eyes.
He picked up some food and put it into Zuko’s bowl.
“The charcoal-grilled sea cow at this place really tastes good.
Hurry up and try it.” Sniffing quietly, Zuko wiped his nose with a napkin.
His eyes were still a bit red, but he gladly accepted the change of topic.
“This dish is the shop’s specialty.
Every time I come here, I order it.” “It really isn’t bad.
The fried rice isn’t too greasy either.
How about we come again tomorrow?” “If Master finds out we didn’t rest properly at night and snuck out for late-night food, he’ll be angry.” “Then we’ll come in the afternoon?” “Wouldn’t that make Master even angrier?” Beneath the starry night, the two of them were like the customers at the other tables, freely enjoying the rare ease of the evening.
The gently swaying surface of the tea reflected the pure friendship of young men.
… Early morning.
The dew clinging to the leaves in the garden was swiftly evaporated by a wave of fiery heat.
Azula clenched her fists and raised her legs.
Every move drew forth bursts of scorching flame, but each eruption was controlled within an extremely small range.
She evaporated the droplets of dew without harming the flowers or leaves in the slightest.
Phew…
Completing her forms, Azula brought her hands down in front of her torso, exhaling a long breath.
A cool morning breeze swept past, carrying the residual dampness of the dawn.
It gently stirred the two strands of hair framing her face, accentuating her sharp, regal features.
She snuck a sideways glance toward her mother, who was currently busy feeding the turtle-ducks by the pond.
Seeing that her mother wasn’t even looking her way, a spark of irritation flared in Azula’s chest.
Stupid ducks.
One of these days I’m going to roast every single one of you, Azula thought viciously.
Right then, a handmaiden stepped quickly into the garden, bowing deeply to the elegant woman by the water.
“Your Majesty, Princess Azula’s friends request an audience.” Ursa, Zuko and Azula’s mother, was a graceful lady with a slender figure and dignified beauty, giving off a gentle, scholarly air.
She was a very typical noble young lady.
Her whole person was quiet and elegant, her smile faint yet memorable.
Looking closely at her features, one could easily see a strong resemblance between her and Azula.
Azula had clearly inherited her mother’s striking beauty; it was a pity she hadn’t inherited a single shred of her gentle demeanor.
Hearing that Ty Lee and Mai had arrived, Azula immediately trotted over and said, “After you let them in, have them wait in my room.
I’m going to take a bath!
Also, prepare a carriage for me.” Ursa gently caught Azula by the arm, her brows knitting together in disapproval.
“Rushing around in such a frantic state…
where are your manners?
You must show respect to your guests.
How can you leave them waiting alone in the garden?” Azula dismissed the lecture internally, though she maintained a perfectly compliant facade.
“I understand, Mother.” Ursa sighed inwardly, knowing full well that Azula hadn’t taken a single word to heart.
“Why do you need a carriage prepared?” she asked.