The night wind felt kind, cool as silk on skin, smoothing a knotted heart and pouring in rare quiet; at least, Yun Shi felt that in the moonwash.

Counting days felt like laying tiles on an old roof; since taking in Shen Ling Zou, she’d been in this creaking house seven or eight days, while Sham might be combing the streets like a lantern in fog.

Calm first, then thought; she wasn’t anxious, because there was no home to return to, no porchlight waiting—only Sham might wait, and beyond that, nothing but empty roads.

She and Shen Ling Zou were the same kind of driftwood, washed from similar shores and floating in the same small eddy, so sympathy stitched them into rare companions.

There was no romance in her chest, only the clear water of friendship; anything else would have turned her stomach like sour wine.

“Night Phantom, what’s wrong?” Shen Ling Zou stepped out as doorway dimness spilled, and found Yun Shi sitting on the earth, looking up where the moon hung like a silver coin.

“Nothing,” she said, voice light as a leaf on water. “Just thinking how the monster mess isn’t solved—when can we leave this pond?”

“Not now,” he said, steady as a stone in the stream. “There are too many monsters. Once I’m healed, I’ll go hunt them down and finish the job.”

“Fine,” she nodded, the motion small as a ripple under moonlight.

From afar, monsters rampaged like wildfire across dry grass, and Shen Ling Zou’s gaze stayed calm, because these days had been a quiet shore he’d never reached before.

Wounds mended, meals appeared like warm smoke from a kitchen, and for once his days drifted easy; his first hard feelings for Yun Shi had thinned like mist and vanished.

A strange feeling budded like a hidden sprout; looking at the face behind her Goggles, he grew curious, wanting to know the features the moon could not see.

But caution cooled him like night dew; he didn’t dare, fearing the sudden frost of being disliked.

For now, they were simply friends; she’d pulled him from the river, and that rescue linked their days like two boats moored together.

He believed the feeling wasn’t a bad tide, and he let it carry him a while.

“You want to go back?” Yun Shi asked abruptly, the words dropping like a pebble into a still pool.

“No,” he said after a beat that felt like a held breath. “I don’t want to go back. My father, the others in the Divine Ling Family—none of that sits right.”

“If people knew the Divine Ling Family raised a son like this,” she said, dry as winter grass, “they’d be speechless.”

“That’s none of your business,” he answered, quick as a whip of wind.

“It’s all the same to me,” she murmured, voice flat as a calm lake. “I’ve got nowhere to return.”

“What’s that mean?” he asked, puzzled as a moth circling a lantern. “Even if you don’t have a fixed place, the Magic Institution has nets and bonds—you’ve got acquaintances, right?”

“...Maybe,” she breathed, letting the word drift like a falling leaf.

After a small silence that felt like frost on glass, Yun Shi stood and walked, step by step, into the milk-blue spill of moonlight.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” Shen Ling Zou scratched his head, confusion buzzing like a fly, then followed.

“The moon’s beautiful,” Yun Shi said softly, the words tinged with a sadness thin as smoke.

“It is,” he answered, simple as a clear sky.

“I remembered things,” she went on, voice like a path fading into dusk. “Back in that past I can’t return to, there was a friend your age, and every night we’d grind levels at an internet café.”

“All night we’d push on, then chug a bottle at dawn, and the happiness felt bright as neon on wet pavement.”

“Huh? What...” Shen Ling Zou frowned, the question hanging like a paper kite with no wind.

“You wouldn’t get it,” she said, cutting the thread clean. “Turn in early. We’ll start the hunt at daybreak.”

She waved a hand like brushing dew from grass, turned, and crossed the threshold into shadow; they lived under one roof without crossing lines, like family that knew how to give space.

“What a strange person,” he sighed, hands on hips, his breath trailing like steam in cold air.

Night went on like any other, no thunderbolt and no omen, just the usual stars pricked in the dark.

The wind felt gentle, the nightscape kind; it seemed fit for a sweet dream, light as a feather on a quiet pond.

…

Across the wide earth, monster roars cracked like thunderheads, a pressure heavy as storm air, hard to breathe beneath; the girl’s face stayed blank, Light Blade in hand, and she leaped like a streak of light.

Puff!

Slaying monsters wasn’t like killing people; these things were summons, not true lives, and her blade turned them to dregs like ash on the wind, without a scarlet drop.

Shen Ling Zou gathered deep-red crystal in both hands like coals cupped in a forge, and with a flick, he drilled them through monster flesh like hail through clay.

Strength restored, he stood like a peak no one could scale; the crystals were his proudest weapon, a red storm that killed whatever it touched.

“Night Phantom!” he shouted, voice sharp as a bell in frost, and a fan of crystals blasted the sneaking monster behind her into grit.

“...Thanks,” Yun Shi muttered, awkward as a thorn under silk, fingers brushing her cheek beneath the Goggles.

She sprang, hands tightening as if wringing the air; space shivered like a pond struck by a stone, and a smooth cut split the air, cleaving several monsters clean.

She strode forward, Mystic Power surging like a tide, and with a boom the nearest creature lost half its body, as if its limbs had been lifted away by an invisible hand.

“So strong,” he thought, awe spreading like dawn light; he’d taken her for an ordinary Witch, but she fought like one with a codename, her power near his own.

He shook off the thought like rain off a cloak and plunged back into the clash, blood riding high like fire.

He vaulted, and crystals fell like a red sleet, rooting into earth as a forest of spikes; monsters stumbled into them and howled like wounded dogs.

Grinning, Shen Ling Zou drew Mystic Power tight as a drum; crystals crawled over his fists like frost, and each blow landed with a quake that shattered bodies to dust.

Together they flowed into the hunt and stayed there for hours, the fight hammering out fatigue like a smith; for Shen Ling Zou, the weight felt full, not empty.

He wasn’t alone, and strength rose in him like spring water; the boredom that once gnawed him had gone quiet like a tamed beast.

“I’ll cover you, Night Phantom—go!” he called, crystals swarming around him like a red flock, Mystic Power thick as summer heat.

Yun Shi didn’t hesitate; she ran like a streak under stormclouds, gathered every spark of power, and with a crack twisted the joints of space.

She crossed, and space crumbled like thin ice; monsters turned to fragments in a blink, and she glanced at the timing like a captain watching the tide.

She tore space open, and a slash split the sky, a blade bright enough to shear cloud and send countless monsters to their graves.

Right on cue, a rain of crystals swept in like spring showers—beautiful and deadly—and stabbed through the horde before any groan could rise, returning them to dust.

The crystal deluge washed the field; even the fading shockwave left the spears standing, a grim garden glittering in the light.

Shen Ling Zou lay back on the ground, spent as a burnt wick, staring up at the pale sky—and suddenly, he laughed.

“Ah hahahaha…” The sound poured out like a river after ice break, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so free.

His body unlocked like a door in sunlight, his heart stopped thrashing like a netted fish; the world, for once, looked interesting.

He laughed warm, he laughed happy, he laughed loose, and he laughed wild, all the while thinking of one person like a star held in the palm.

“Ahh~” Yun Shi watched him sprawl and cackle at the heavens, a headache rising like a small cloud; she fought the urge to facepalm, and a smile still tugged like a shy moon.

Let him relax, she thought, as gentle as rain; he must be tired.

At last the leaving day came, and facing the boy across open air, she spoke her plan like a steady drum.

“You’re leaving?” His words fell slow, heavy as stones in a river.

“Mm. The mission’s done,” she said, calm as a windless bay. “Thanks to you, I can report cleanly.”

Silence pool’d between them like shadow.

“You and I are enemies,” she added, voice level as a blade’s back. “Best not to keep in touch, Shen Ling Zou. These days were good. I’d like to fight beside you again.”

“Night Phantom, I—” He reached, but the words fluttered like birds and fled.

“We’ll likely meet again,” she said, turning like a page. “Goodbye, Shen Ling Zou.”

Parting came as surely as dusk; watching Yun Shi’s back fade like a lantern down a long street, Shen Ling Zou felt both greed and fear twist together.

In those days, he’d grown used to her, like a hearth in winter; around her, no disgust rose, only a quiet happiness like sun after rain.

He didn’t know why, but after so short a time, he already couldn’t do without her; if he could, he’d have kept walking alongside, a wish light as smoke.

His heart turned messy, knotted like reeds; without her familiar shadow, his mind kept circling her, a moth to a lone flame.

Coming to, he realized he couldn’t let go; his skull held only that brief span of days, replaying like waves on a shore.

Truth was, they’d only shared almost ten days, but those days tasted like a new harvest; life, once dull, now carried a thin edge of drive.

Without her, the first days turned bland as cold rice; irritation rose like summer gnats, and he discovered longing could ache like a slow bruise.

He also discovered something else, clear as a bell at dawn.

Shen Ling Zou had fallen for Night Phantom.

It was first love, quick as lightning and just as blinding; by the time he noticed, it had already rooted deep like bamboo.

For her, he went digging like a fox in snow, and learned much.

A Witch born of the Clan Head line. First Vessel Soul. Codename: Night Phantom.

He finally knew her shape and her strength, and even so, he wouldn’t let go; so what if her origins were stained, when his hands were stained too?

Loving someone wasn’t a sin carved in stone.

“Night Phantom.” The devoted man breathed her name today like a prayer in wind, unaware of what storms it might call; he only wanted the one he loved, not knowing fate loves to twist the road.