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❃𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶❃

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°•°•°•《○●○❃○●○》•°•°•°

Akira stood beneath the canopy of his family's cherry blossom grove, the soft petals falling like snow around him. The air was calm, fragrant with the sweet scent of blooming flowers. He placed a hand against the bark of a familiar tree, feeling the rough texture under his fingers.

Everything was peaceful here, as it always was in his dreams.

"Akira!"

He turned at the sound of his name, startled to see Huan sprinting toward him. His dark hair shimmered in the dappled sunlight, and his eyes were wide with  urgency and relief. Akira blinked, caught off guard.

"Huan? What are you doing—"

Before he could finish, Huan grabbed his hands, leaning in close, and then it happened—a kiss.

Akira froze as Huan's lips met his, soft yet insistent. His heart pounded, confusion warring with something deeper, something raw and unspoken. This had to be a dream. There was no way this was real.

But then, something strange happened.

Akira felt something warm against his hands and looked down. The vibrant crimson of red spider lilies bloomed in Huan's palms, their petals curling and spreading like wildfire. The flowers crept up Huan's wrists, winding around his arms and spiraling toward his face.

"Huan?" Akira whispered, his voice trembling. The flowers didn't stop. They wrapped around Huan's neck, twining into his hair, their color striking against his pale skin.

Red spider lilies.

The symbol of death.

Akira reached out, trying to stop them, but Huan stepped back, his expression unreadable. The grove dissolved in a flurry of petals, the world spinned around Akira until he was somewhere else entirely.

He was in a forest now, dense and shadowed. The air was heavy, damp with the smell of moss and decay. Akira turned in confusion and froze when he saw himself—or rather, a younger version of himself—sitting under a tree.

The boy, no older than seven or eight, was carefully wrapping a strip of cloth around the arm of another child. The other boy wore the unmistakable blue uniform of the Chen Clan, his features hidden by shadows.

Akira's stomach churned. 

Before he could step closer, the younger version of himself faded, dissolving into petals that scattered on a sudden gust of wind.

"Wait!" Akira called, chasing after them.

The wind howled, carrying him forward as the forest melted away.

When he stopped, he was standing in the courtyard of the Chen Estate.

It was burning.

The grand halls and pristine courtyards he had once visited were now in ruins. Flames roared around him, their heat licking at his skin. The bodies of Chen Clan members littered the ground, their lifeless forms painted in shades of red and black.

Akira's heart raced as he stumbled through the destruction. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

And then he saw him.

A lone figure stood amidst the distruction, illuminated by the flickering glow of the flames.

He stood tall and unflinching, his dark hair wild and disheveled. In his hands, red spider lilies bloomed once more, twisting and curling up his arms. Woliu was planted in the ground beside him, its blade gleaming as the flowers crept up its length.

"Huan?" Akira whispered, his voice breaking.

The figure didn't respond.

Akira took a step forward, but the ground beneath him cracked, splitting open into a dark abyss. He stumbled, his footing slipping as the earth gave way.

"Huan!" he shouted, his voice desperate.

Huan turned slowly, his face still shrouded in shadow, and Akira's breath caught as the abyss swallowed him whole.

The last thing he saw was the vivid red of the spider lilies, their haunting beauty etched into his mind as he fell into darkness.

°•°•°•《○●○❃○●○》•°•°•°

Akira woke with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest. The vivid reds of spider lilies and the flicker of flames from his dream still clung to the edges of his vision. He blinked rapidly, struggling to orient himself.

And that's when he realized.

His head was resting on something warm. Something firm yet oddly comfortable. He tilted his gaze upward, his blurry vision sharpening to reveal... Huan!

Akira froze. His head was on Huan's thighs.

Before the full gravity of the situation could hit him, Akira's body tensed, and he shifted slightly. That was when he noticed the cool air against his skin. His bare skin.

"What the—" Akira's voice came out a hoarse rasp, his throat dry and raw. He glanced down, horrified to find himself half-naked, the top layers of his clothing missing entirely. His face burned hotter than a furnace.

"Don't move too much," Huan said softly, leaning over him. "You're still injured."

Akira's first instinct was to push himself up and demand answers, but the sharp pain in his side and the throbbing ache in his head stopped him. He winced, clutching at his ribs as he tried to steady his breathing.

"What... happened?" Akira managed to croak, his voice trembling as much from pain as from sheer mortification. "How... how did I get here? And... how are we getting out?"

Huan's brow furrowed, and he sighed. "You were hurt pretty badly. I found you bleeding here. I patched you up as best as I could." He glanced at Akira's side, where fresh bandages were tightly wrapped. "As for getting out, we'll figure that out once you're strong enough to move."

Akira wanted to argue, but even lifting his arm felt like a difficult task. He sank back against Huan's thighs, unable to suppress the frustrated groan that escaped his lips.

And then the realization hit him again.

His head was still on Huan's thighs!

Akira's entire body tensed, his face reddening further. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to ignore the warmth beneath him, the faint scent of sandalwood that clung to Huan, and the fact that they were so close.

This couldn't be happening. I am still dreaming...

He tried not to think about how Huan had kissed him in his dream—or how now, in reality, Huan's hand rested on his shoulder.

Don't think about it... Don't think about it...Don't think about it...

But the harder he tried, the worse it got. His mind spiraled into dangerous territory, imagining things he definitely shouldn't be imagining in a situation like this.

"Are you feeling okay?" Huan's voice broke through his erratic(erotic) thoughts, and Akira's eyes shot open.

"I-I'm fine," he stammered, though the heat in his face and his inability to meet Huan's gaze said otherwise. "Just... just tired."

"You look like you're burning up," Huan noted, tilting his head slightly. "Are you sure you're not feverish?"

"No!" Akira almost yelped, the sudden movement making his side throb painfully. "I mean, no. I'm fine. Totally fine. Just... tired."

Huan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his fingers brushing against Akira's hair absently.

Akira bit his lip, desperately willing himself to calm down. He couldn't lose himself to these ridiculous thoughts—not now, not when he was injured and helpless, and definitely not when Huan's thighs felt way too comfortable. Though he stated explaining what happened.

"Zixin," Huan said, his voice low and edged with frustration. "That bastard. He's the one who pushed you."

Akira blinked, startled. "What?"

"I saw him. He shoved you into the crevice." Huan's hands tightened into fists, his jaw set in anger.

Akira remained silent, emotions bubbling beneath the surface. He glanced away, his eyes landing on Woliu again. "Where's my katana?" he asked quietly.

Huan's expression softened as he looked at Akira. "I couldn't find it. Katsu searched, but..."

Akira's heart sank. His katana wasn't just a weapon—it was a part of him, a tie to his family and his past. "Oh," he murmured, visibly disheartened.

Huan hesitated, then reached behind him, pulling out another blade. It gleamed faintly in the dim light, the intricate engravings on its hilt unmistakable. "Here," Huan said, holding it out. "It's your uncle Akimitsu's katana. I brought it along... just in case."

Akira took the blade with trembling hands, his fingers brushing against the hilt. He managed a small, grateful smile, though the sadness lingered in his eyes. "Thanks."

Huan watched him carefully. "It's not the same, I know, but at least it's something."

Akira nodded, his grip tightening on the katana. At least this is the closest I'll ever get to him, he thought wryly, glancing at Huan. Might as well savor it while it lasts.

Before he could dwell on the thought, the ground beneath them trembled violently, sending a cascade of dirt and debris from above. The cave walls groaned ominously.

Akira immediately sat up despite the pain, grabbing Huan by the arm and pulling him into a protective hug.

"Akira—what the hell are you doing?" Huan exclaimed, visibly annoyed. "You're the injured one!"

Before Akira could respond, a thick, bark-like root shot up from the ground and coiled around Huan's mouth, silencing him. His eyes widened in shock as the root tightened and dragged him into unconsciousness.

Akira's nose wrinkled in recognition. "Uncle Takashi," he whined. "You didn't have to knock him out..."

The roots slowly retracted, twisting and contorting until they formed a humanoid figure. The transformation was grotesque—muscle and sinew knitting together as tree bark dissolved into rough, scarred skin. As the figure took its final shape, a mess of unkempt hair fell over its shoulders, and Takashi's unsettling face became visible.

His milky-grey eyes glinted under the dim light, with four additional black eyes, each resting above and below the normal ones. The scars—or rather, birthmarks—that covered his body were vivid, stark against his pale skin. No wonder Takashi always kept himself hidden under a veil and loose clothing. 

Even though Akira had seen his uncle's true form a handful of times before, it still managed to unsettle him. It was a family mutation trait, most only got grey eyes and others just turn out more terrifing. Akira was fortunate enough to only have grey eyes, however his cousin Anaki wasn't that fortunate. "You couldn't have warned me first?" Akira muttered.

Takashi tilted his head, his voice low and gravelly. "What is he doing here?"

Akira bit his lip, glancing at the unconscious Huan. He struggled to come up with an excuse that wouldn't get Huan in trouble. Before he could speak, the crevice lit up with a radiant golden glow.

Massive, golden hands descended from above, their golden fingers delicately reaching into the chasm to scoop them up. Akira held onto Huan tightly as they were lifted, the sudden ascent making his head spin.

When they emerged, Akira blinked against the bright light. Towering above them was a magnificent Buddha statue, its serene face gazing down at them. Inside the glowing construct, Akira spotted a familiar figure.

"Uncle Akimitsu," Akira murmured in relief as the statue gently set them on solid ground.

Akimitsu, standing within the heart of the statue, leapt down gracefully, his robes billowing around him. His grey eyes were sharp with worry as he hurried to Akira's side. "Are you alright?"

Akira nodded weakly, his hand still clutching Huan's unconscious form. "I'm okay, Uncle. Just... tired."

Akimitsu frowned, his gaze shifting to Huan. "And him?"

Akira glanced down at Huan, his chest tightening. "He'll be fine. I think."

Takashi stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over them. "We'll see about that."

_●°•°•°●_

The soft glow of the infirmary lights was the only source of light as Akira shifted uncomfortably in his bed. Huan was still unconscious in the cot beside him, his face peaceful, though Akira couldn't shake the memory of how pale he had looked earlier.

Akira casted a nervous glance at the bed's underside. Huan's sword, Woliu, was precariously hidden under there—a ridiculous hiding spot, but it was the best he could do on short notice. If anyone found it, there would be questions Huan wasn't ready to answer.

Takashi, now back to his usual black robes and veil, loomed nearby, his relentless interrogation finally coming to an end. "So," Takashi said, his voice gruff and measured. "You're sure there's nothing else you want to tell me about what happened?"

Akira kept his gaze fixed on the blanket, avoiding Takashi's piercing eyes. "I already told you everything," he said quietly, deliberately omitting Zixin's involvement. He didn't want to stir up trouble—not for Huan, not for anyone.

Takashi studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Fine. But I'm watching you." With that, he retreated to a corner of the room, his figure blending into the shadows.

Taking a breath, Akira turned to Akimitsu, who was seated at his bedside, he was far less intimidating than Takashi. "What about my parents?" Akira asked hesitantly. "Why aren't they here?"

Akimitsu's expression softened, though there was a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. "They had to return to the estate. Because of grandfather's illness... They're tending to him."

Akira's shoulders slumped, disappointment washing over him. "So, even though I almost died, they couldn't stay?"

"It's not that they don't care," Akimitsu said gently. "You know how things are."

Akira didn't respond. He knew, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

Akimitsu smiled softly, clearly searching for a way to lighten the mood. "Well, since we're still in China, I could buy you some more danmei novels. I hear the latest releases are quite good."

Akira's face turned scarlet, his head snapping up to glare at his uncle. "What?! No! I don't need anything like that!" he stammered.

Akimitsu's lips twitched into a barely suppressed smile. "I'm just saying—"

"No!" Akira cut him off, burying his face in his hands. "Just... leave me alone. I need some time to myself."

Akimitsu chuckled but relented, rising from his seat. "Alright, alright. I'll take Takashi with me. Rest well, Akira."

As the two men left, the room fell silent once more. Akira exhaled deeply, his face still burning with embarrassment.

He turned his head, only to freeze in shock. Huan was awake. And judging him.

Huan's brown eyes were locked onto him, one brow raised in amused disbelief.

"You..." Akira croaked, his voice cracking. "How long have you been awake?"

Huan tilted his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Long enough to hear something about danmei novels," he drawled.

Akira's face somehow turned an even deeper shade of red. "My uncle was joking!" he blurted out, waving his hands frantically. "It's not true! He just likes to tease me!" Even though it was true but Huan didn't need to know that.

Huan's smirk widened as he leaned back against the pillow. "Oh, sure. Totally joking."

Akira groaned, throwing himself back against the bed and covering his face with a pillow. Why couldn't the ground just swallow him whole right now?

The silence between them stretched out for a few moments, broken only by the faint noise of the infirmary's equipment. Akira kept the pillow pressed against his face, hoping his embarrassment would fade if he just stayed still long enough. But, of course, Huan had other plans.

"You know," Huan said softly, his tone thoughtful, "it's strange how there's been such a sharp increase in Yin creatures lately."

Akira tilted his head, his brows furrowed. "What're you getting at now?"

Huan sat up straighter. "It's the Trials. Think back. Didn't the energy feel... wrong? It wasn't just Yin increasing. It felt like it was trying to stabilize itself."

"Stabilize itself?" Akira repeated, his throat dry. "What does that even mean?"

Huan's gaze locked on Akira, his expression unyielding. "Yin and Yang exist in balance. Always. But during the Trials, it wasn't just the Yin energy multiplying for no reason. It felt like something else was driving it—like it had to grow to match something."

"Match what?" Akira pressed, though he already regretted asking.

"Yang energy," Huan said bluntly. "Something or someone is creating it. And in turn, Yin is being produced to balance it out. It's not natural. Someone's meddling, and the consequences are spilling over into everything. Its the only explanation I can think of."

Akira blinked, taking in Huan's words. "You're saying someone's out there... making Yang energy? On purpose?"

"Yes," Huan said, his voice sharp with frustration. "And it's throwing everything off balance, which leads to chaos. The equilibrium between Yin and Yang is delicate—if one outweighs the other, we get disasters like this. It's reckless."

"But—" Akira stammered, his thoughts racing. "Why would someone do that?"

Huan rolled his eyes. "Power, of course. Everyone wants that—control, dominance. It's always the same."

Akira fell silent, Huan's words echoing in his mind. Power. The very concept of it felt strange to him. What was so alluring about it? What made people crave it so much that they would risk the destruction of balance itself? To Akira, power wasn't just unnecessary—it was an obstacle.

He shifted uneasily, his gaze dropping to his hands. Power, he thought bitterly, has done nothing but complicate my life. Born into a family where strength and control were respect and expected, he had been thrust into a world where power dictated everything. Training from dawn till dusk, mastering countless weapons, memorizing ancient texts—all of it had been a constant, suffocating reminder that he was expected to wield power. But did he ever want it?

No. All he ever wanted was peace. A quiet life, free from expectations, where he could simply exist. A life where he wasn't defined by his skills or his heritage. A life where he could enjoy the little things—like soaking in a bath, playing with his cats, or styling his hair however he wanted without worrying about what others would think.

Power seemed meaningless in comparison to those simple desires. It wasn't peace; it wasn't freedom. It was a burden—a curse disguised as ambition. And yet, here he was, caught in a web spun by those who sought it, dragged into battles that weren't his to fight.

He glanced at Huan. 

Huan understood power—he had wielded it, suffered under it, and still chose to carry it. His golden core pulsing faintly inside. It wasn't just strength to him—it was a part of his past, a burden, a responsibility. Akira admired him for that strength, for the way he carried himself despite everything. But he couldn't help wondering—how much had it cost him? Did Huan ever dream of a life where power wasn't the answer?

Akira sighed heavily, his hand coming up to rub his temple as frustration swelled in his chest. "You know what? I don't care."

Huan frowned, his sharp gaze narrowing. "What?"

"I don't care," Akira repeated, louder this time. "I'm not interested in figuring out who's playing with cosmic forces or why the Trials were a disaster. I just want to graduate...and go home..."

Huan stared at him. "Home? You think that's even an option if this keeps happening? Akira, this isn't just going to go away on its own. The balance is breaking, and the fallout—"

"Isn't my problem!" Akira snapped, cutting him off. His voice rose with the force of his words, his frustration spilling over. "I've had enough. There is no reason for me to deal with everyone else's messes. Let someone else play hero. I'm not—" He faltered, the words catching in his throat. "I am not eligible."

Huan opened his mouth to argue but stopped short. His jaw tightened, the frustration evident in his expression. But then, his gaze softened. "You think you can ignore this forever? That it won't find its way to your doorstep?"

Akira turned his head away, staring at the wall. "Maybe. Maybe not. But it's not today, and it's not right now." His voice was quieter now, but no less firm.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and tense. Huan let out a slow breath, leaning back against the edge of the bed, his hands folded. "Fine," he said finally, though the word came reluctantly, edged with dissatisfaction. "I guess I have my own problems to deal with anyway." He ran a hand through his hair, his tone clipped. "But you can't run from this forever, Akira. One way or another, it'll catch up to you. Catch up to all of us."

Akira closed his eyes, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. "Watch me," he muttered under his breath.

Huan shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, he looked as if he might say something else—something cutting, something challenging. But instead, he spoke softly. "Suit yourself," he said quietly,

"By the way," Huan started talking again, "I had to kiss you for the Qi transfer. Otherwise, you would've died from Yin poisoning..."

Akira froze, his breath hitching as the words sank in. Kiss me? His heart stuttered, and a rush of heat climbed up his neck to his face. He felt his cheeks burn, the flush spreading like wildfire. Huan had kissed him. That dream—where Huan's face had been so close, where their lips had brushed—it was half real.

His mind raced, fragments of the dream crashing over him like waves. He could still feel the phantom sensation of warmth. His fingers curled into fists against the sheets, and he swallowed hard, trying to push the embarrassment down.

"It—" Akira stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "It wasn't just... a dream?"

"Nope." Huan shrugged, leaning against the doorframe as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell. "I didn't exactly have a choice. You were on the verge of collapsing into a coma, and a direct Qi transfer was the fastest way to stabilize you."

Akira's eyes widened, darting between Huan and his own lap as he struggled to process the information. A direct Qi transfer... through a kiss? His head felt like it was spinning, and the rush of heat in his face only intensified.

"But—" Akira started, then clamped his mouth shut, unsure what to even say. He couldn't exactly accuse Huan of ulterior motives when he'd saved his life. And yet, his mind betrayed him, replaying the memory of that dream with startling clarity. The way Huan had looked at him, the gentle press of lips against his—

"Are you seriously turning red over this?" Huan interrupted, his tone laced with mild amusement. "It wasn't romantic, Akira. You're reading too much into it."

"I'm not—" Akira's voice cracked again, and he groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "I'm not reading into anything!"

"Sure," Huan drawled, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were holding back a smirk.

But then, like a jolt of cold water, another memory struck Akira, dousing the heat in his face. The red spider lilies. He lowered his hands slowly, his eyes narrowing as the vivid image of those haunting flowers came back to him.

They had appeared in his dream... on Huan. They weren't just flowers; they were a warning, an omen.

Akira's gaze flicked back to Huan, his embarrassment replaced by a creeping sense of dread. "I saw red spider lilies...in my dream..." he murmured.

Huan's smirk faded, replaced by a faint frown. "What about them?"

"I saw them," Akira said, his throat tightening. "In my dream... or whatever it was. They were growing...on your hands and face. Do you think—" His voice faltered, his chest tightening with apprehension. "Do you think it meant something?" He paushed, swollowing the dread, "Like you would die..."

Huan's expression darkened, his casual demeanor shifting into something more serious. "Spider lilies..." he repeated, as if weighing the significance. "They're tied to death. To the afterlife."

Akira's heart sank, and his grip on the sheets tightened. 

What if it wasn't just a dream?

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Welp, the mystery is finally kicking which brings us to the end another arc!

Thank for reading!
Next chapter there is something special ;>

What do you think the next arcs will bring...
More screen time for Akira's family?
The mystery of Yin creatures? The mystery behind Huan's lineage? Would that have something to do with Akira?

Stay toned~~~