The road to the small town had been traveled for many years; he was so familiar with it that he could find his way even with his eyes closed.
But this time was different.
When Fu Hua took the initiative to suggest coming along, Arthur was squatting by the Vegetable Garden, checking the growth of the last crop of eggplants.
Upon hearing this, the scissors in his hand paused, and a few grains of soil shook loose from the eggplant stems.
“Master is going too?” He stood up, patted the dirt off his hands, and a trace of surprise flashed through his green eyes.
“Yes.” Fu Hua stood in the shadow under the eaves, the morning light only illuminating half of her profile.
“It has been a long time since I last went down the mountain.”
This reason was very Fu Hua—concise, plain, and devoid of emotion.
Arthur, however, sensed something unusual.
Fu Hua was not someone who enjoyed crowds.
In the past, when going down the mountain for supplies, it was usually he and Lin Chaoyu who went together; she only occasionally joined when her presence was truly necessary.
But he said “Okay,” then turned to call Lin Chaoyu, who was practicing her sword in the backyard.
Now, the three of them were walking along the mountain path.
The morning mist had not yet dispersed, and dew hung from the leaves of the grass by the roadside.
Lin Chaoyu walked at the front, her steps light and brisk.
As a seventeen-year-old girl, she was at an age where she loved to talk and laugh.
Moreover, with Master taking the initiative to accompany them today, her mood was exceptionally cheerful, and she chattered away incessantly.
“Senior Brother, Senior Brother, you mentioned the new osmanthus flower cakes from Wangs Shop last time.
We must buy more this time!”
“And the new Jiangnan soft silk at the cloth shop; it’s said to have water ripples under the sunlight.
I want to tailor a new outfit for Master.”
“Oh, and Old Man Liu at the blacksmith shop said he’s forged a new batch of farm tools.
Do you want to go take a look?”
Arthur followed half a step behind her, smiling in response, but his gaze involuntarily drifted back.
Fu Hua walked at the very back.
She didn’t walk fast, her green robes brushing against the dew-covered tips of the grass, her steps steady and silent.
The morning light grew brighter, piercing through the thin mist in the forest and coating her shoulders in a layer of pale gold.
Her eyes were slightly downcast, as if she were looking at the road, yet also as if she were lost in thought.
Arthur withdrew his gaze, and that slight sense of oddity surfaced again.
Ever since Su Mei arrived, Fu Hua seemed to have become even more silent.
It wasn’t the usual cold stillness, but…
a sort of pensive quietude.
Occasionally, he would catch a fleeting, complex look in her eyes whenever she looked at Su Mei.
What was in that look?
Inquiry?
Expectation?
Or…
something else?
“Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m listening,” Arthur regained his focus and said with a smile.
“osmanthus flower cakes, soft silk, farm tools.
I’ve got it, I won’t forget.”
Lin Chaoyu turned back around, satisfied, and continued to chatter about what other new things were happening in town.
Arthur responded while glancing back again out of the corner of his eye.
Fu Hua continued to walk quietly, as if the surrounding noise was separated from her by a transparent barrier.
“Speaking of which,” Lin Chaoyu’s voice suddenly dropped a bit, carrying a hint of envy, “Third Junior Sister is learning so fast.”
Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s only been three months,” Lin Chaoyu turned around and walked backward, facing Arthur, her pale gold eyes sparkling in the morning light.
“Her Blade Heart already vaguely shows the Still Water realm.
Master, I’m right, aren’t I?”
Her last sentence was directed at Fu Hua.
The mountain path fell silent for a moment.
Arthur saw Fu Hua look up, her gaze falling on Lin Chaoyu, yet also appearing to look through her toward the distant mountains.
“Yes.” Fu Hua spoke, her voice steady.
“I told you, she is special.”
These words were very soft, falling into the morning mist, yet they were like a stone thrown into the center of a lake.
The smile on Lin Chaoyu’s face faltered.
She turned back around and continued walking forward, but her pace slowed.
After a long while, she spoke in a tone that was part envy, part joke, yet couldn’t hide a trace of bitterness.
“Hehe…
thinking back to my time, it took me nearly a year just to touch the edge of Still Water.
I’m so stupid…”
She said it lightheartedly, but the end of her sentence trembled slightly.
Arthur’s heart tightened.
He knew Lin Chaoyu too well.
This girl had a straightforward mind; her joys and sorrows were all on her face.
Right now, she was smiling with her mouth, but it was likely raining in her heart.
He was about to speak to smooth things over when he heard Fu Hua’s voice rise again, deeper and slower than before:
“You started learning too late.”
Arthur turned his head sharply.
When Fu Hua said this, she wasn’t looking at Lin Chaoyu but at the winding mountain path ahead.
The morning light outlined her cold profile, and in her eyes was an emotion Arthur rarely saw…
something akin to ‘regret’.
His voice was a bit urgent, even cracking slightly.
Both Lin Chaoyu and Fu Hua looked at him.
Arthur took a deep breath, his face quickly piling on his usual, slightly teasing smile as he walked to Lin Chaoyu’s side and reached out to pat her shoulder.
“Chaoyu, people have to talk about talent.” His tone was relaxed, as if he were saying the weather was nice today.
“Look at you now, your Blade Heart is already close to reaching Taixu, right?
You’ve even touched the threshold of Soul Omen—how many years did it take you?
Eleven years.”
Lin Chaoyu stared at him blankly, her eyes already starting to redden.
“Now look at me,” Arthur pointed at himself, his smile widening, though there was no mirth in his eyes.
“How many years have I studied?
Nineteen years.
My Blade Heart is still stuck at Clear Mirror, and my Five Omens are still spinning around Idea Omen.”
He spread his hands, making a helpless “this is just how I am” expression.
“People should be content and happy.
You have your speed, she has hers, and I have my slowness—but aren’t we all still moving forward?”
The mountain wind passed through the gaps in the forest, bringing the sound of a distant stream.
Lin Chaoyu stared at Arthur, the water in her pale gold eyes building up more and more, growing brighter.
Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
Then, the tears fell—large droplets rolling down her cheeks and hitting her collar, soaking in and leaving dark marks.
She suddenly took a step forward and buried herself in Arthur’s embrace, her arms tightly circling his waist and her face buried in his chest as her shoulders began to tremble violently.
Arthur froze.
His hands hung in mid-air, unsure whether to place them or not.
Lin Chaoyu cried without any regard for her appearance, her warm tears quickly soaking through the fabric of his front.
He could feel the trembling of the girl’s body in his arms and hear her suppressed, muffled sobs.
He subconsciously looked up at Fu Hua.
Fu Hua stood where she was, quietly watching them.
The morning light shone from behind her, giving her silhouette a fuzzy, glowing edge.
There was no expression on her face, but deep within those azure eyes, something was slowly flowing.
Arthur suddenly remembered the sentence Fu Hua hadn’t finished earlier—
“You started learning too late…”
If that sentence had been finished, what would it have been?
Was it self-reproach?
Was it regret?
Or was it some deeper lament about “time” and “missing out”?
He didn’t know.
He only knew that at this moment, Lin Chaoyu crying her heart out in his arms and Fu Hua standing quietly in the morning light both made a place in his heart swell with a bitter ache.