When they returned to the old house, Shen Ling Zou felt the world tilt, like a dream still wet with fog. Just moments ago, a demon had clung to him like burrs. In a few breathless minutes, the girl in the black cloak had dragged him back, like a shadow hauling driftwood.

She was an enemy; why did she accept him so easily, like a brook taking fallen leaves? She had saved him twice, like a hand catching a falling hawk. The boy couldn’t understand, the question throbbed like a bruise.

“Why did you save me?”

He asked anyway, voice low like rain on tile. The girl ignored him, like a stone statue. She sorted the medical kit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages, back to him like a closed door.

“I’m arrogant and beyond saving—why can you treat me so casually, like we share a table in spring?”

She had saved him twice, so his tone cooled, like embers dimming, no longer striking sparks.

“I didn’t go out of my way to save you. You got lucky both times, like a coin landing on its edge. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I’m not mistaken. Makes sense—someone like me gets saved only by luck, like a stray dodging carts.”

“...”

“Anyway, you’re the same—bored to the bone, like dust on a shrine. Nothing changes. World or people, it’s all the same old winter. So go ahead and shoot.”

“Hah? You out of your mind?”

“Your enemy’s right in front of you, best chance like prey in snare. If you don’t strike, there won’t be another. If you won’t, then I will—”

Smack!

His self-pity unraveled with the sting on his cheek, heat blooming like fire across his face. He froze, staring at the girl who’d slapped him like cracking ice.

“You wallow and act like the whole world owes you, like a king without a crown.”

“...”

“Don’t think I saved you for anything noble. I never planned to save you at all, like I’d never plan a storm. Your look just pissed me off. Playing tragic hero is fun, huh? Flirting with death is fun, huh? You’re just running from life, like a turtle in its shell.”

“...”

“Don’t think you’re special. The world turns fine without you, like a mill under wind. You’re throwing a child’s tantrum.”

“What do you know about me!”

His temper flared like dry grass catching. He stood and roared at Yun Shi, venting every caged grievance like smoke from a kiln.

“You know nothing about my world. I came from the Clan Head, you hear me? I’m of the Divine Ling Family, like iron stamped at birth.”

That family was the cruelest place in the Underworld, like a pit with no sky. My childhood wasn’t on the same level as others; it was a house steeped in sorrow, like rain-soaked walls.

“Since I was small, I took their damned training, learning every twisted thing like swallowing nails. Freedom, friends, childhood—those were luxuries, like stars behind bars.”

Who wouldn’t want a normal life then, like warm rice and a sleepy dog? Who would choose a life stripped of everything, like a tree peeled of bark?

“Training, training, killing, missions—the grind didn’t stop after I grew up; it just thickened like tar. I wish I wasn’t born in that damned place. Same Clan Head, yet the gulf is an abyss. Why do other Clan Head bloodlines live easy as spring, while I can’t even choose my future? You tell me—”

“Right. No power. In a family, the head’s word is law, like thunder that forbids reply. You train. You study. You don’t resist. More than that, you don’t even qualify to resist.”

“Eh?”

Yun Shi didn’t flare at his fury. She caught his words like a falling blade and set them down. Strangely, she seemed to know his world like a map.

“As a child you crave parents’ approval, and the warmth of friends, like sun on a winter wall. But growing up turns them into disappointments, like fruit that never ripens. You want a life of your own, yet it never bends to you. The more you reach, the farther it drifts, like a lantern on a river.”

“...”

“Why do you know the Clan Head so well... my Clan Head?”

Shen Ling Zou’s voice trembled like a plucked string. His eyes carried the look of someone meeting a fellow sufferer, like rain meeting rain.

“Don’t ask how I know. It’s not just the Divine Ling Family. I get the Flamebu Family and the Four Pupils Clan too, like roads I’ve walked. I grew up along the same track.”

She scratched her head and looked away, words tossed out like pebbles.

He stared, stunned, at her. Her face was hidden, yet her beauty came through like moonlight behind clouds. Not the surface, but the core. She acted aloof, yet had saved him twice; now she tried to steer him, like a hand on a rudder. He could feel her gentleness, soft as a shawl.

“You’re really strange. People don’t save their enemies, not usually.”

“If I’d known you were an enemy, I wouldn’t have.”

“Uh... then why save me at all? Leaving me would’ve been easier.”

“Are you stupid? If you died here, your corpse would stink and draw monsters like flies. I don’t want to become food.”

“...”

Shen Ling Zou’s eye twitched, like a thread snagging. This woman’s mouth was a blade.

He sighed, breath trailing like smoke. For dignity’s sake, he let it go. Who knew what she’d do next? Besides, he was wounded and no match for her, like paper against rain.

“Right, I still don’t know your name. What should I call you?”

He chose small talk like a bridge. She was his savior; pettiness would only sour the tea.

“Night Phantom.”

Yun Shi dropped the name like a pebble in a pond. She went back to sorting the kit, lining up bottles like soldiers. She didn’t plan to entertain the boy behind her.

“I’m Shen Ling Zou. Call me whatever you want.”

“...”

At his name, Yun Shi’s hands stopped like a clock missing a gear. She turned, stunned, and stayed that way a long beat, like frost holding a leaf.

“What is it?” Shen Ling Zou asked, puzzled, like a cat pricking its ears.

“You said you’re Shen Ling Zou?”

“Yeah. Problem?”

“No... just surprised. First time meeting the Shen Ling Zou from the rumors, like a legend stepping off paper.”

Yun Shi let the topic drift like smoke. She didn’t dwell. He had some fame in the Underworld, so he didn’t think much of it either, like hearing his name on the wind.

“Come here. Turn around.”

“Huh? Hey, what are you—”

“Quit fussing. Turn around and take off your shirt.”

“Hey... tss—what are you pouring on me!”

“Shut up. It’s just antiseptic. Don’t tell me you can’t handle that, like a cat afraid of water.”

Yun Shi rolled her eyes, a white flick like a gull’s wing, though he couldn’t see.

Bandaging came easy to Yun Shi, like tying a knot. But Shen Ling Zou couldn’t stay calm. Facing away, he felt the cool smear of medicine on his back, like dew on stone. Her small, slender hand drifted across his lean muscles, a swallow tracing eaves. He’d hardly been this close to a girl. His face flushed, heat rising like steam.

“Night Phantom, I—”

“Quiet, will you. Here, time to wrap it.”

Yun Shi’s mind stayed clear, treating him like a patient, like a monk pouring tea. But he couldn’t calm down. He was a pure-hearted boy; how could he be cool, like snow under sun?

Still, it was the first time someone fussed over him like this. Even a bandage warmed him, like a small stove in winter. He’d always been alone. When wounded, someone would patch him, but never this gently, like wind through silk. Something soft in him was touched. His heart hammered, unstoppable, like a drum in the dark. Soon his face was aflame with blush.

“Done. Stay put.”

She didn’t notice his color. She left the room after that, like a breeze slipping out. He didn’t get it, but he put on his shirt and sat on the bed to rest, like a soldier obeying orders.

Yun Shi dealt with him with a boy’s bluntness. Still, girl, you’re far too unaware; you are, after all, a girl, like peach blossom pretending to be stone.

He sat quietly, resting, when a fragrance drifted in like dawn steam. He opened his eyes to a pot of fresh congee. Yun Shi slid a bowl toward him and set it before him, like placing a moon on the table.

Shen Ling Zou blinked, stunned, a little lost, like a traveler in fog.

“Quit staring at nothing—eat.”

Yun Shi snapped, glare sharp as a needle.

“Oh. Oh...” He picked up the spoon and sipped the porridge, slow as falling snow.

“You made this yourself...?”

“Got a problem?” Another glare came over, a silent lash he couldn’t see.

“N-no. Huh? This taste—”

One sip and his tongue woke like spring grass. A full, solid comfort spread, and his pace quickened, like rain on dry earth.

“I’ve got more here.”

She watched him turn from polite to wolfish, amused like a cat at play. She pushed the pot closer so he wouldn’t run out. Good thing there was a kitchen; scrounging here and there, she’d still managed a pot.

He tasted the congee. It wasn’t a delicacy, yet it beat any feast, like clear water beating wine. He’d eaten plenty before. But this was the first time it felt safe and warm, like a quilt around the stomach.

It was his first taste of being cared for, like sunlight after a long tunnel. Her mouth was hard, but she was kind. She saved an enemy, took him in, treated his wounds, and fed him, like a lantern in a storm.

He was bone-tired these past days. Only today brought rest. Only today brought steadiness, like a boat finally in harbor.

He thought of his family. Meals under his father were strict and harsh, always the same, like iron chopsticks. Sometimes it was a table for one, tasteless food for one, like ash on the tongue. Affection in life—none. Warm concern—none. Even rare friends came less and less, like birds that stop returning. All told, he was a lonely person, like a lamp with thin oil.

His vision blurred a little, warmth rising in his chest like a tide. Only now did he feel the world wasn’t boring at all. If he could, he’d freeze this hour in amber.