They had returned to the Wei Manor.
The evening sky stretched above the mountains, painted in shades of gold and deep violet, as though the clouds themselves had wrapped around the dying sun to offer it one final adornment.
The dragon’s sinuous figure finally descended into the vast stone-paved courtyard.
The air trembled beneath his presence.
The lanterns hanging beneath the eaves quivered, swaying gently.
The leaves of the ancient trees rustled in unison, as though the manor itself recognized the one who had come home.
Bai Zhen slowly came to a halt, his long draconic body rippling one last time like a river finally settling into stillness.
His scales still shimmered with the celestial radiance of the skies he had crossed, catching the final rays of the setting sun like thousands of fragments of living light.
Then, within a silent whirl of spiritual energy, his colossal body transformed.
His enormous form dissolved into a silver mist.
His tail vanished like water evaporating into the air.
His draconic power gathered inward, condensing until it assumed a human form.
Where the dragon had stood now stood a man with long white hair cascading down his back, his face so refined and noble that it seemed almost unreal.
Yet his eyes still carried the ancient brilliance of the creature he truly was.
Eyes that had witnessed centuries pass.
With an elegant motion, he adjusted his robe.
Then his gaze fell upon Wei Ran.
And stopped.
Chen Yue was asleep in his arms.
Her head rested against Wei Ran’s shoulder, her dark hair cascading along his arm like a waterfall of black silk.
Her breathing was calm and even—the breathing of someone who had finally let go after holding on for far too long.
Wei Ran carried her as though she weighed nothing.
Yet every movement he made was measured.
His arm supported her back with almost painful precision.
His hand cradled her legs as though he were holding something infinitely precious.
Something he had almost lost forever.
Bai Zhen said nothing.
He simply watched the scene for a long while, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
He had known Wei Ran for as long as he could remember.
They had grown up together.
He was Wei Ran’s bonded dragon…
But he was also his oldest companion.
His friend.
He had watched Wei Ran walk through the world wearing that same impassive expression, those same indifferent eyes that lingered on neither people nor places.
What he was seeing now…
He had no words for it.
So he remained silent.
Madam Yang was already standing at the entrance of the manor, her hands folded neatly before her.
She had been waiting for a long time, growing more anxious with every passing hour, constantly returning to the doorway to search the road disappearing into the evening.
The moment she saw Chen Yue lying motionless in Wei Ran’s arms, the color drained from her face.
Her eyes widened.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Miss Chen…” she breathed, her voice trembling.
“Is…
is she alright?” She hurried forward, searching desperately for any sign of injury, any indication that Chen Yue was still breathing.
Wei Ran stopped before her.
“She’s only asleep.” His voice was calm.
Steady.
Yet his hand tightened almost imperceptibly around Chen Yue.
Madam Yang looked at him.
His features, usually as smooth and cold as the frozen surface of a winter lake, had softened in a way she had not seen in two hundred years.
But it wasn’t the same as before.
Back then, there had been lightness.
A joy that had been almost carefree.
Rare smiles…
But genuine ones.
This time…
It was different.
Something deeper.
Something heavier.
Something one does not lose twice.
Her eyes began to sting.
He’s back, she thought.
That look…
it’s back.
Without another word, Wei Ran crossed the entrance hall, his footsteps echoing softly across the polished stone floor in the silence of the manor.
Bai Zhen followed several steps behind him, silent as a shadow.
Wei Ran climbed the staircase and headed straight for Chen Yue’s room.
Wei Ran gently pushed the door open.
The room was bathed in soft light, filtered through silk curtains that swayed gently in the evening breeze.
The familiar scent of sandalwood and dried herbs filled the air, soothing and comforting.
Wei Ran approached the bed and lowered himself slightly, laying Chen Yue down with infinite care.
His fingers slowly slipped away from her.
He adjusted the blanket around her, pulling it carefully up to her shoulders.
Chen Yue murmured something inaudible before drifting back into deeper sleep, a faint sigh escaping her lips.
Wei Ran remained there.
Only a few inches away.
Unable to move.
He watched her sleep.
Her face was peaceful, her features softened by rest.
Her long lashes cast delicate shadows across her rosy cheeks.
Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing so gentle it was barely audible.
At that very moment…
She looked unbelievably fragile.
Like something that might disappear if no one was careful enough.
I almost lost you.
The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it.
He said nothing.
There was nothing to say.
Madam Yang entered a moment later, carrying a basin of warm water with wisps of steam rising from its surface.
Several clean towels were neatly folded over her arm.
“She should be cleaned up a little,” she said softly.
“The journey…
the trials…
her body must have…” Wei Ran raised a hand, quietly stopping her.
“I’ll do it.” Madam Yang froze.
“Y-Young Master…
I can take care of it.” “No.” A single word.
One that left no room for discussion.
He took the basin from Madam Yang’s hands, set the towels beside the bed, and dipped one into the warm water.
Slowly, he wrung it out, watching the water trickle between his fingers.
Then he took Chen Yue’s hand.
Her skin was still slightly cold.
Her slender, delicate fingers rested motionlessly in his palm.
He gently wiped each finger with the warm cloth.
Her palm.
Her wrist.
Then his hand paused.
The jade bracelet was still there.
Cool against the skin that had just been warmed by the cloth.
Its ancient carvings almost seemed to pulse beneath the dim light…
As though they were breathing.
Wei Ran stared at it for a long moment without moving.
He knew exactly what that bracelet meant.
Then he resumed.
Even more slowly than before.
Every movement was deliberate.
Almost hesitant.
As though he were learning something he had never known how to do.
As though caring for someone were a foreign language, and he was only now discovering its very first words.
He carefully cleaned her hands.
Then her face, gently wiping away the dust that clung to her cheeks.
Then her neck, taking care with every movement not to wake her.
When he reached her hair, he carefully brushed the loose strands away from her face.
His fingers lingered…
Just a second too long.
He realized it.
And quietly withdrew them.
Madam Yang didn’t move.
She watched the scene in complete silence, not daring to make the slightest sound, afraid she might shatter something fragile…
Something precious.
Her eyes glistened.
Her throat tightened.
It’s the first time, she thought.
The first time in so very long.
Wei Ran set the towel aside.
He picked up a finely crafted wooden comb and slowly began untangling Chen Yue’s hair.
He didn’t speak.
He simply breathed, attentive to the slightest movement…
The faintest breath.
As though he wanted to carve this moment into a memory that would never fade.
“I think…
I’ll leave you now,” Madam Yang whispered.
Wei Ran sensed her gaze resting on him.
He straightened slightly, suddenly aware that he had been observed during such an intimate moment.
“You may leave,” he said, more curtly than he had intended.
Madam Yang smiled even more warmly.
She understood perfectly.
“Of course.” She quietly left the room, gently closing the door behind her.
Wei Ran remained alone…
In the silence of the room.
Alone with her.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, only a few inches from Chen Yue.
His hand rested atop the blanket, just above hers, not daring to touch her directly.
He looked at her again.
For a long time.
The soft light painted gentle shadows across her face.
Color had gradually returned to her cheeks.
Her breathing had deepened, steadier now…
More regular.
She was alright.
She was here.
Wei Ran closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Something inside him slowly loosened, like a cord that had been stretched taut for far too long finally beginning to release.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered.
So quietly that she couldn’t possibly hear him.
So quietly that it was almost meant for himself.
The door opened once more.
Bai Zhen stepped inside without a sound.
He watched Wei Ran for a moment before speaking.
“Wei Ran.
A message from the palace.” He held out a rolled scroll, still tied with a strand of royal golden silk.
The Imperial Seal gleamed beneath the dim light like a silent warning.
“The Crown Prince wishes to speak with Chen Yue.
The message arrived by royal messenger pigeon.” Wei Ran’s expression hardened instantly.
In the span of a heartbeat…
The mask returned.
Cold.
Distant.
Impenetrable.
He accepted the scroll.
His fingers tightened around it, crumpling the parchment ever so slightly with a restrained force that spoke louder than words ever could.
“I see,” he replied, his voice as cold as ice.
He slowly rose to his feet.
“Watch over Chen Yue while I’m gone,” he said to Bai Zhen.
“Don’t leave her side.” “I won’t be long.” Bai Zhen nodded solemnly.
“You can count on me.” Wei Ran cast one last look at Chen Yue.
A long look.
An intense one.
Filled with something he still could not bring himself to name.
Then he turned away.
Opened the door.
And left the room with firm, unwavering steps.
The crumpled message remained clenched in his hand.
Night had fallen.
And he disappeared into the darkness.