At last, the two young men reached their separate destinations.
When Han Liang stepped into the inn, he was met by the quiet warmth of an old but carefully maintained building. The wooden frames, painted deep red, had been softened by years of wind and rain, while lantern light flickered gently along the corridor.
The owners—an elderly couple—studied him with quiet awareness. Age had sharpened their instincts; they could tell at once that he was not from this town, not from this peaceful mountain market.
Still, they welcomed him with quiet kindness, offering tea and a room without asking too many questions.
Han Liang accepted, but he did not linger. Inside his room, the silence settled quickly, yet his thoughts did not.
Did their encounters carry meaning… or was he simply searching for one?
Elsewhere, Yuan Yu returned to the residence of the Jewel Sect.
The Jewel Sect was unimaginably wealthy, and Yuan Yu's residence was unlike any other. His private residence stood apart from the gathering halls, hidden among endless peach trees—as though protected by spring itself.
Behind its walls, the air smelled faintly sweet. The silence carried a sense of safety. In the garden, there was only one pomegranate tree.
His father—the leader of the great Jewel Sect—had given him this secluded four-room residence when he came of age, a place meant for peace, not politics.
Inside, elegance surrounded him. Antique vases set with pale jade reflected the lantern glow like captured moonlight, while polished tables, delicate teacups, and shelves lined with jade spoke quietly of the sect's endless wealth.
And yet, this place was his refuge.
Here, away from expectations, Yuan Yu could breathe. He could think. He could be still.
He sat down. The jade comb rested once more in his palm.
His fingers brushed its surface. The warmth returned—stronger this time, as if it had remembered something.
Yuan Yu stilled. He didn't understand it, but he couldn't ignore it either.
As night slowly edged toward dawn, both young men lay awake in their separate rooms. Sleep did not come easily.
Who was the night-blue-eyed man watching from the rooftop?
And who was the stranger beneath the peach blossoms, holding jade as though it could speak?
Neither of them had an answer.
Yet Han Liang felt something restless beneath his ribs—a quiet impatience he did not recognize.
And Yuan Yu…
could still feel the faint warmth of the jade.
In the silence, they finally closed their eyes. But even then, their thoughts did not fully part.
Somewhere between dream and darkness, something unseen stretched between them—as if anticipating the moment their paths would cross again.
Neither of them knew it yet—
but this would not be their last encounter.