After parting with Han Liang, Yuan Yu was forced to remain at home for three days—partly to ease his mother's worries, and partly to allow his own body to recover.
Whatever his captors had forced him to inhale had drained his strength far more than he had expected. Even now, traces of weakness lingered in his body, leaving him frustrated with himself. If he wished to travel again, to explore distant towns freely, or even one day visit the place Han Liang called home, he needed to become stronger.
So he dedicated those three days entirely to recovery.
He meditated for long hours, adjusted his diet, and focused on rebuilding his inner balance. Hidden deep within him were abilities he had never fully explored, powers he had always kept restrained beneath discipline and caution. Now, for the first time in a long while, he wondered how far that inner energy could truly be pushed.
Yet despite all his efforts, every morning began the same way.
His thoughts returned to Han Liang.
His face. His steady night-blue eyes. The quiet strength in his arms. That strange feeling of safety Yuan Yu had never known with anyone else.
The memories came too easily.
To hide the faint marks left around his wrists, Yuan Yu made it a habit to wear long-sleeved robes. Summer was drawing closer, and the weather had begun to warm, yet he continued moving around in heavier fabrics.
Whenever his mother questioned him, he offered the same calm excuse.
"I must have caught a chill on the road. I still feel cold."
She accepted the explanation, though her gaze often lingered on him a little too long.
During those quiet days, between meditation and rest, Yuan Yu also spent time with his father and uncle. Their conversations were not always serious, but beneath them all, he could feel the constant undercurrent of politics, secrets, and preparation.
One afternoon, Yuan Yu's uncle, Yuan Han, summoned both Leader Zhen and Yuan Yu into a private room.
Without a word, Yuan Han placed a long wooden box on the table and slowly opened it.
Inside lay a sword.
Yuan Yu stepped closer—then stopped cold.
The hilt bore a design he recognized instantly.
Two beautifully carved dragon heads, their eyes closed, their noses gently touching.
His breath caught.
It was the exact same motif as the bracelet Han Liang had given him
For a brief moment, his hand instinctively moved toward his wrist, only to stop midway. A strange tightness settled in his chest.
Han Liang.
The thought came at once.
Relief followed just as quickly. He was grateful he had left the bracelet safely at home. Had the traffickers found it, they could have stolen it.
That bracelet was no longer simply an ornament.
It was precious to him.
Yuan Yu leaned closer, studying the weapon carefully. The sword carried real weight—serious enough to challenge the person holding it. Dark carvings twisted along the metal, and even resting in silence, it seemed to carry a presence of its own.
This cannot be coincidence, he thought.
Finally, he lifted his gaze.
"Uncle… where did you get this sword?"
Yuan Han immediately shook his head.
"That is not something I can tell you."
His voice carried no softness.
Carefully placing the blade back inside its box, he continued.
"This weapon is extremely important. It must only appear at the right time, and only in the right hands."
His gaze shifted between Yuan Yu and Leader Zhen.
"Only the three of us are to know of this."
Both father and son nodded.
Then Yuan Han reached into the box once more and placed a necklace beside the sword.
"This belongs with the blade," he said. "Whoever wears this is the one who can wield it. Do not let it fall into anyone else's hands."
Leader Zhen lowered his gaze silently.
Yuan Yu noticed the exchange between them immediately. No further explanation was offered, yet something passed between father and uncle in that silence.
Some family secrets required no words.
After leaving them, Yuan Yu stepped into the garden to clear his thoughts.
The air was fresh, touched by the scent of flowing water and blooming trees. Birds moved between the branches overhead, while fish glided beneath the narrow river, their scales catching flashes of sunlight.
His father and uncle had always cared deeply about appearances—both within the sect and beyond its walls. Everything here was elegant, controlled, peaceful.
It had always been his sanctuary.
Yet lately… it felt smaller.
When he returned to his room, his gaze fell upon the golden tea set resting on the lower shelf of his bookcase.
A gift from the Tiger Sect.
Its craftsmanship was breathtaking. Delicate, flawless, undeniably beautiful.
Yuan Yu stood still for a moment, staring at it.
"Should I put this away?" he murmured quietly to himself. "It reminds me of that man."
A faint shiver passed through him.
And yet, after a long moment, he left it exactly where it was.
Yuan Yu had always loved beautiful things.
So the days passed quietly.
Under his mother's watchful concern. Under his father's measured calm. Under his uncle's hidden secrets.
He wanted to go out.
Wanted to see Han Liang again.
But now was not the time to attract attention.
So instead, when left alone, he read.
He wrote. He meditated.
And when the longing became too difficult to ignore, he poured it silently into the pages of his journal before locking it away.
At night, when candlelight flickered against the walls of his room, shadows moved softly across the ceiling, making the silence feel heavier.
Those were the hours when his thoughts became impossible to escape.
"Where is he now?" he whispered into the darkness.
"Is he thinking of me too?"
Three days should not have felt so long.
And yet somehow…
they did.
Because with each passing moment, the longing only grew deeper.