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✦𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶✦

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The music was soft at first, a gentle melody of flutes and guzheng that rose and fell like waves. Huan leaned against the railing, the polished wood cool under his hands, as he took in the grandeur of the tower. He glanced at Akira beside him, who stood with his usual expression, seemingly unimpressed by the spectacle around them.

Out of nowhere, a rush of air brushed past him. A girl in a flowing yellow hanfu, her waist cinched with a thick ribbon the same vibrant shade holding her up, leapt through the air with grace. She carried an ornate teapot with an elongated spout, her movements were a perfect balance of precision and elegance.

Huan tilted his head to follow her, only to notice dozens of other girls doing the same.

They darted up and down the open core of the tower, pouring streams of tea into cups held aloft by guests standing at the railings. The tea arced through the air in perfect ribbons of amber, landing in the cups without spilling a single drop.

How do they prevent those ribbons from tangling while they moved?

One of the girls swept down gracefully near them, tilting her teapot to pour tea for Sanji. She caught Huan's gaze and smiled as she passed, her ribbon trailing behind her like a streak of sunlight.

"Wow," Huan murmured, genuinely awed. "They're beautiful."

"Hm," Akira muttered beside him, his tone as flat as his expression.

Huan turned to him, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Seriously? You're not impressed? Look at them! That takes so much skill."

Akira only shrugged. "Hm."

Huan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You're such an anti-romantic, you know that?" He smirked, leaning a little closer. "Remember when Ruòxīn asked which girl you liked, and instead of picking one, you just said, 'you' to me?"

Akira shot him a sharp look but remained silent. His expression was as unreadable as ever, though a faint pink tinged his ears.

Before Huan could tease him further, one of the girls landed lightly in front of him. She held out her teapot, tilting it gracefully to fill his cup. "Such a looker~" she said with a playful smile, her voice sweet as honey.

Huan laughed, "Thanks," he said, glancing at Akira to share the moment. But Akira's face was stony, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Huan blinked, confused. He never really understood Akira's reactions. Was he annoyed? Indifferent? It was impossible to tell.

A moment later, more girls descended, their ribbons trailing behind them like streaks of sunlight. They tossed small bouquets of flowers to guests, one of them landing squarely in Huan's hands.

Marcus, standing nearby, chuckled. "Look at you, Huan. You're popular with the ladies, huh?"

Sanji rolled his eyes, smirking. "Even Akira likes him."

Akira's glare could've frozen fire. "Shut up."

Huan couldn't suppress his grin, sipping the freshly poured tea as the music swelled around them. This was shaping up to be an interesting day.

The lights dimmed slightly, focusing everyone's attention upward. Long scrolls unfurled from the ceiling, cascading down like waterfalls of silk. Each scroll bore a painting of a girl playing a pipa.

Controlled by qi—the paintings began to move. The girls in the scrolls plucked the strings of their pipas, and their melodies merged seamlessly with the live music. The audience was entranced as the figures slowly turned, their painted forms seeming to step off the paper.

Huan's jaw dropped as the scrolls rolled back up into the ceiling, leaving the girls there in the flesh. Their flowing robes shimmered in the light, their faces as serene and otherworldly as when they had been mere brushstrokes.

The entire hall erupted into applause, but Huan could only stare. He'd heard of qi techniques that could animate objects, but to witness this level of mastery was beyond anything he had imagined.

"The Chen Clan would never," Huan muttered under his breath. He shook his head, trying to imagine his old clan attempting something so epic. The stiff formalities, the oppressive air of tradition—it all seemed so small compared to this.

As his thoughts lingered on the Chen Clan, his gaze shifted, almost unconsciously, to a group of people standing a little way off. The Chen cousins were there, their familiar faces bringing a sour taste to his mouth. Huan tensed, his fingers tightening around the teacup.

Before he could dwell on it, a figure approached them. He wore the robes of a head disciple, his posture as straight and composed as a blade. Though he appeared around thirty, the faint qi energy radiating from him betrayed his true age—older, wiser, and undoubtedly powerful.

Huan observed him carefully, noting the man's sharp features and confident stride. But then his gaze landed on the man's eyes—brown, deep, and piercing. They were the same as his own.

His breath caught in his throat. The world seemed to tilt for a moment, and all the sounds around him dulled. That man... there was no mistaking it. That man was his father.

Bābā

Huan froze, his teacup trembling in his hands. Memories surged up like a large wave—memories he had buried, memories he had ran away from. His heart raced and his chest tightened.

"Huan?" Akira's voice cut through the haze. Huan turned his head sharply, meeting Akira's concerned gaze.

"You okay?" Akira asked, his brow furrowing as he took in Huan's pale face.

"I—" Huan struggled to form words, his throat dry and constricted.

Akira's eyes flickered to the man, then back to Huan. His expression softened, and he stepped closer. "Let's go downstairs," he said quietly.

Huan nodded stiffly, unable to speak. He let Akira guide him away, his legs moving on autopilot as they descended the grand staircase. All the while, he could feel his father's gaze burning into his back.

He stumbled down the final steps of the grand staircase, his breaths shallow and uneven. Each gasp felt like shards of glass slicing his throat. His hands trembled, clenched into tight fists at his sides, yet he couldn't stop the shaking. Was it hatred coursing through his veins, or the sheer terror that man still inspired in him? He couldn't tell. His mind was a storm of memories and emotions he thought he'd forgotten long ago.

"Huan..." Akira's voice was gentle, but the concern etched into it struck like a hammer. "That man... was he your father?"

Huan nodded stiffly, his body frozen as though his muscles refused to cooperate. He couldn't speak; even the act of breathing felt like a task. His chest heaved, but no words came. Akira's hand rested lightly on his shoulder, anchoring him, though it felt like nothing could keep him tethered in this moment.

And then, the main gates swung open.

The sound echoed through the hall, cutting through the air like a knife. Huan looked and his entire world seemed to collapse in on itself.

Chen Xinyue, the Chen Clan leader, strode into the hall and beside him was a man Huan had prayed he would never see again.

Chen Zheng

Huan's knees nearly buckled as the sight of that face dragged him into the darkness of his past. That smirking face, those greedy eyes—it was a face etched into his nightmares, a face that had haunted him every time he dared to think he could move on.

A sickening wave of nausea surged through him. He wanted to scream, to claw at his own skin, to pull out his eyes just to unsee that man. He remembered everything. Not just what Chen Zheng had done to him, but to every man he was forced to submit to at the brothel. He remembered the pain, the humiliation, the sickening sense of powerlessness. It was like poison seeping back into his veins, eating him alive from the inside out.

Huan's vision blurred, his body trembling violently. His mind spiraled into a pit of despair so deep it felt like the only escape was death. Anything, anything, to stop feeling like this.

"Huan," Akira's voice cut through the fog. Firm hands gripped his shoulders and spun him away from the scene. "Don't look. Don't let him see you."

Huan didn't resist as Akira led him through the back entrance of the hall, his legs barely holding him up. When his knees finally gave out, Akira didn't hesitate. He scooped Huan into his arms.

Huan's head drooped against Akira's shoulder, his eyes closed but all he could see was Chen Zheng's face. Burned into his mind like a cruel brand. Every step Akira took, another memory came, the torment in Huan's chest growing heavier with each passing second.

They reached the lake, the quiet surroundings was so different compared to Huan's mind. Akira gently set him down on the soft grass, crouching beside him.

"Huan," Akira said, his voice low and steady. "Everything will be fine. You're safe now."

Huan shook his head violently, his body curling into itself. "No—it won't," he choked out, his voice cracking. "It'll never be fine..."

Akira didn't argue. He simply pulled Huan into a tight embrace, holding him lovingly.

And then, Huan broke.

The tears came fast and hot, pouring down his face as if a dam had finally shattered. He buried his face against Akira's chest and sobbed.

"I hate them," he sobbed, his words muffled but filled with venom. "I hate the Chen Clan. I hate Chen Zheng. I hate my father. I hate them all!"

Akira tightened his hold, his hand running soothingly down Huan's back. "Let it out," he murmured softly. "Let it all out."

Huan clutched at Akira's nagagi as though it were the only thing keeping him from drowning in his own sower. His body shook with the force of his sobs, every tear a release of years of suppressed pain and rage.

"I hate them," Huan whispered again, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "I hate them so much."

"I know," Akira replied, his voice steady. "But they can't hurt you now. Not while I'm here."

Huan's grip on Akira tightened. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to lean on someone else. And for now, that was enough.

His sobs dwindled to shaky breaths, leaving him sitting on the cool grass with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. His tear-streaked face felt raw, and the hollow ache in his chest made it hard to breathe. He sniffed, rubbing his sleeve across his face, but no matter what he did, the vulnerability lingered, heavy and suffocating.

He hated this—hated crying in front of Akira. For the third time.

It all felt so unfair. Akira saw every uglyness in him, while Huan didn't know anything about him. And then the words spilled out before he could stop them. "It's not fair..." he muttered, voice thick and hoarse. "You never cry. You never let anything show. And I..." He choked back a bitter sob, dragging a hand over his face like he could somehow erase the humiliation.

Akira sat quietly beside him, the moonlight casting soft highlights on his otherwise unreadable expression. Instead of responding, he reached out and patted Huan's back, his touch careful, almost hesitant. "Do you want to eat something?" Akira asked gently.

Huan stiffened, shaking his head without looking up. "No." His voice was flat, his chest hollow. "If I eat, I'll just throw it all back up anyway."

The quiet between them stretched, broken only by the sound of crickets in the distance. The world around them felt still, to still.

"You've had a hard life," Akira finally said, his tone quiet but sincere.

Huan's head snapped up, his glare sharp as a blade. "No shit." The words came out harsher than he intended, but he didn't care.

Akira blinked, recoiling slightly. His face faltered, and he looked away, his fingers curling slightly in the grass. "Sorry," he murmured. "That was a stupid thing to say."

Huan let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing as guilt began to raise along with his frustration. He buried his face against his knees again. "Forget it," he muttered.

Akira shifted beside him, his weight causing the grass to rustle softly. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice more measured. "Did you... have a friend back at the Chen Clan? Someone you miss?"

Huan's breath hitched, and for a moment, he said nothing. He stared down at the ground, the question pulling at memories he tried so hard to keep buried. "I had one friend," he finally admitted, his voice quiet and distant. "My shijie."

Akira tilted his head slightly, listening without interrupting.

"She was kind," Huan continued, his tone softening. "She looked out for me when no one else did." He paused, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. "But she died young. Not long before I was disowned."

A heavy silence fell between them again. Neither knew what to say next.

"I'm sorry," Akira said after a long pause.

Huan didn't respond. He didn't want pity.

Akira shifted again, his posture tense. "I lost someone too," he said finally. His voice was even, but there was a rawness beneath the surface. "A friend..."

Huan glanced at Akira, noticing the way his hands clenched into fists against his knees.

"I never really made another friend after that," Akira admitted, his gaze fixed on the ground. His voice wavered slightly. "Until I met you."

Huan's heart thudded in his chest, and he quickly turned away, hoping the darkness would hide the heat rushing to his face.

Akira hesitated, then continued, his tone softer now. "You're... different, though. You're not like him. You're not like anyone I've met before." He glanced at Huan, his silver-grey eyes catching the faint glow of the moonlight. "That's not a bad thing. I just..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "I just like you in a different way. It's hard to explain."

Huan's throat tightened, his heart racing. He glanced at Akira, letting his words sink in. He felt it too—that strange, unnameable feeling that seemed to settle in his chest whenever they were together.

"I kinda feel that way too..." Huan's lips twitched into a small smile, the first in what felt like ages. He turned to face Akira fully, extending his pinky. "Let's keep it that way for now," he said, his voice soft.

Akira blinked, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his own lips curved into a small, rare smile. He reached out, hooking his pinky with Huan's.

"Okay," he said simply.

They sat there in silence, their pinkies still linked, the night wrapping around them like a fragile cocoon. For now, they didn't need to name what they felt. They didn't need to rush. It was the childhood innocence that their friendship brought them. The kind they needed most.

Huan took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling exhaling out his sorrow. Without a word, he let go of Akira and he leaned back onto the cool grass, arms stretched behind his head as he gazed up at the stars.

The vast expanse above seemed endless, each star twinkling against the deep indigo sky. It was quiet—just the faint noise of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. After what felt like a long time, he could breathe.

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound surprising even himself. It wasn't bitter or forced, just...real.

Akira tilted his head, glancing at him curiously. "What's funny?"

Huan turned his face toward Akira, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I kinda want a cheeseburger."

Akira blinked, caught completely off guard. "A cheeseburger?"

"Yeah," Huan said, his tone light and teasing. "And not some fancy one, either. I'm talking about the greasy, cheap kind. The ones that are half bread and regret."

Akira stared at him for a moment, then shook his head with a faint smile. "Do you want to get out of here?" he asked.

Huan blinked, sitting up. "Get out of here? How? There's no boat." He gestured vaguely to the shimmering water surrounding the Li Sect's island, illuminated by the moonlight.

Akira's gaze didn't waver. "We won't need a boat," he said simply, standing and dusting himself off. He reached out a hand toward Huan, his silver-grey eyes glinting in the starlight.

For a moment, Huan just stared at the offered hand. "Wait. Are you serious?"

Akira's expression remained calm, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Come on, you've trusted me before?"

Huan hesitated, glancing between Akira's hand and the calm waters beyond. Every body would question were they went—But there was something about Akira's confidence that made him want to go along with it.

With a deep breath, Huan reached out, clasping Akira's hand. "Alright," he said, his voice steady. "Let's see what you've got, Akira."

A small smile curved Akira's lips, and he tightened his grip on Huan's hand. "Hold on tight."

_●°•°•°●_[Extra]

The world snapped back into focus, and Huan stumbled slightly as his feet hit solid ground. The air was alive with sound and color. They stood at the heart of a bustling night market, the cobblestone streets stretched out under strings of glowing lanterns, their soft, warm light interspersed with the flicker of signs written in Chinese characters and bright, shifting advertisements. Stalls crowded both sides of the path, their displays brimming with goods—some traditional, some unfamiliar, all vibrant and eye-catching.

Steam hissed from metal street carts, curling into the cool night air, mingling with the rich scent of roasted meats, fragrant spices, and sweet caramelized treats. Vendors called out from their stalls, their voices lively and inviting, while small mechanical carts zipped around delivering packages to shopkeepers.

Akira's gaze darted between stalls. Beside him, Huan walked with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking more focused but no less intrigued.

"This place is packed," Huan muttered, stepping aside as a pair of children chased a glowing ball past them.

"It's lively," Akira replied, glancing up at a canopy of lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. The market had a charm that seemed to blend the old and new seamlessly, with vendors tending steaming food stalls while holographic signs hovered above them, advertising their specials.

It didn't take long for Huan to spot a small stall with a glowing sign in English: Billy's American Grill. His face lit up. "Over there!" he declared, grabbing Akira's sleeve and tugging him toward it.

Akira resisted, pointing toward a stall where fresh buns steamed inside massive wooden baskets. The vendor there skillfully worked dough while vibrant sticks of tanghulu stood in a neat display, their glossy candied surfaces catching the light.

"You go get your burger," Akira said, already steering himself toward the bun stall. "I'm getting this."

Huan shrugged. "Suit yourself."

They split briefly to order their choices, reuniting moments later with hands full. Huan carried a garlic-onion cheeseburger, its buttery bun practically gleaming, while Akira balanced a shirm bum, and a stick of tanghulu that sparkled like edible jewels.

They walked side by side, weaving through the crowd as they nibbled at their food.

Akira wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of Huan's burger. "You realize your breath is going to be awful, right?"

Huan took a bite, chewing slowly before smirking at Akira. "Good thing I'm not planning to kiss anyone tonight. Especially not you." He strugged, "So no need to worry."

Hey it will keep Xian away.

Akira's cheeks flushed faintly, and looked away taking a bite out of his steambun.

Huan popped the last bite of his cheeseburger into his mouth and glanced at Akira, who was still quietly nibbling on his steamed bun as they strolled through the glowing market.

"You always eat this slow?" Huan teased, nudging Akira lightly with his elbow.

Akira's cheeks tinged pink, and he avoided Huan's gaze, focusing on the steamed bun in his hands. "I'm just enjoying it," he mumbled.

Huan grinned. "Mind if I try it? I did plan on trying a steam bun while here...But..."

Akira blinked, hesitating for a moment before reluctantly holding the bun toward Huan. "Just take a small bite," he muttered.

Huan leaned in, taking a confident bite, but the moment the spice hit, his confidence faltered. His eyes widened, and he coughed, covering his mouth with his fist. "What the—?!" He coughed again, his voice muffled. "Is this supposed to be edible?!"

Akira's brow furrowed in confusion. "It's just a steamed bun... It's not even that spicy." He took another bite himself, chewing thoughtfully. The wrapper clearly said Red Pepper Seasoning.

"Not that spicy?!" Huan shot him a betrayed look, still recovering. "That has red pepper in it! How are you eating it like it's plain rice?"

Akira gave a small shrug, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. "Maybe you're just not good with spicy food."

Huan groaned dramatically, waving his hand in defeat. "Whatever."

Akira chuckled softly, an unfamiliar warmth spreading across his face as he offered his stick of tanghulu. "Here," he said, holding it out toward Huan. "It's sweet."

Huan leaned in and took a cautious bite. The hard candy shell cracked satisfyingly under his teeth, revealing the tart, juicy fruit inside. His expression shifted instantly, softening. "Oh, this is good."

But just as he leaned in for another bite, Akira quickly snatched the stick back, cradling it protectively. "That's enough," he said giggling. "I bought this for me."

Huan puffed his cheeks, pouting dramatically as he glanced between Akira and the tanghulu. "Selfish," he muttered.

"It's mine," Akira replied, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his teasing exterior. He took a delicate bite of one of the remaining fruits, savoring the sweetness.

"Fine," Huan said, nudging him lightly with his elbow. "Buy me another one, then."

Akira glanced at him briefly before looking away again. "Ha, fine, come on," he said, gesturing for Huan to follow.

As they walked together, the vibrant lights of the night market surrounded them. The warm glow of the lanterns reflected in their eyes, and the lingering sweetness of the tanghulu stayed on Huan's tongue.

He glanced sideways at Akira, watching the soft smile that still lingered on his lips. For a moment, the bustling market faded into the background, and Huan felt a rare, quiet contentment settle over him.

I'm happy to have him.

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I actually really like the girls so much, I made an edit.

The background remover did a shitty job, kay. The girl in the middle is the art work, its a canva element(free). Other two girls are from pinterest, most likely ai