The dawn still dragged itself across the mist and silence when Xiu Zhao began his ritual of pain and strength once again.
The courtyard of the mansion was a field of cold shadows, and he, a living flame burning against the wind.
A thousand push-ups.
A thousand squats.
A thousand laps around the garden, where frost still kissed the leaves.
Sweat flowed like thin rivers, his body exhausted, yet his eyes… his eyes shone with the same determination as the rising sun.
With every breath, he remembered the name that weighed on his heart: Chen Yi.
The distant whisper of the wind carried memories — old laughter, promises made beneath the stars, the gentle touch of someone who once called him "love."
But reality returned like cold steel: Chen Yi was far away, and he was trapped in a life of training and duty.
The night dissolved slowly into the gold of morning.
And with the first song of the birds, Xiu Zhao finally stopped, his body trembling, his knees against the frozen ground.
He lifted his face, inhaled deeply, and whispered to the wind:
"I'm ready."
The moon had not yet left the sky, and the mansion slept beneath a veil of silver mist.
Xiu Zhao stood on the veranda, arms crossed behind his back, his gaze sharp and impatient.
Minutes passed. Not a sign of Ling Xu.
His footsteps echoed through the corridors — steady, deliberate, like distant thunder.
He stopped before Ling Xu's door and opened it abruptly.
"What are you still doing in bed?"
His voice was cold, restrained, yet a vein pulsed at his neck.
The girl widened her eyes, startled.
"S-sorry! I… I forgot!"
Xiu Zhao exhaled softly, turning away.
"Come. I don't have all day."
Ling Xu jumped from the bed, stumbling with her robe, but before she could leave, he said quietly, without turning:
"Get dressed."
She blushed, hurriedly slipping on her tunic.
When she finally appeared on the veranda, the sky was already glowing gold.
Xiu Zhao waited, calm-faced, his eyes sharp as a blade.
"Let's begin."
The training was harsh.
The same routine he had inherited from his father — posture, endurance, breathing.
For Ling Xu, it was torture; for Xiu Zhao, it was memory.
Soon the courtyard echoed with her breathless cries.
"Ah… ah…" — she gasped, bending over, hands on her knees.
"You must build your stamina,"
he said without stopping his own exercises, his voice calm yet unyielding.
"This is… too hard!"
"You'll get used to it with time. Tomorrow, this will only be the warm-up. After that… we'll begin martial arts."
Ling Xu nodded through her exhaustion, tears mingling with sweat.
But behind her pain, a spark shone — the spark of pride.
When training ended, the sun already ruled the sky.
They both bathed; Xiu Zhao, as always, chose cold water.
As the icy touch numbed his skin, his mind wandered — and in the mist, an image appeared: Chen Yi's smile.
A small smile formed on his lips.
Then it vanished, dissolved by longing.
"When will he come back?" he wondered silently.
Days passed like drifting leaves.
Ling Xu complained, Xiu Zhao demanded, and Hua Xu watched them both with quiet serenity.
Amid discipline and persistence, something delicate began to bloom.
...
That day's training had been long.
Xiu Zhao's body ached, and Ling Xu could barely lift her cup of tea.
Hua Xu observed them from afar, a faint smile softening his expression — there was tenderness hidden within their chaos.
Later, Xiu Zhao returned to his room.
But something made him stop at the doorway.
On his bed — a bouquet.
Roses.
Bright colors, tied with golden ribbons.
The scent was soft, sweet, and familiar.
And in the center, a folded piece of paper, sealed with wax.
He opened it with trembling hands.
"I didn't know which roses you liked most, so I planted these for you.
I cared for them with love and patience, and I hope they bring you the same joy they gave me when they bloomed."
"I'm sorry for last time.
I never wanted to leave you alone.
I ran away to help you, and for that, I'm being punished now."
"Don't blame yourself, my love.
I'd do it all again if I had to."
"I'll keep my promise: I'll return to see you.
Take care of yourself, and don't forget about us."
"I love you so much, my darling."
Chen Yi
The words pulsed with warmth, as if they had just been written.
Xiu Zhao smiled — a fragile, teary smile.
"I'll never forget you, my love…" he whispered softly.
He pressed the bouquet to his chest, breathing in the scent of the roses.
A memory surfaced: the day he wove a flower crown for Chen Yi.
Their laughter under the sun, the wind playing between petals.
"He didn't forget…" he whispered again, cheeks flushed.
"Roses… have always been my favorite."
He divided the bouquet in two — half in a porcelain vase, half on his table.
The room filled with color and fragrance — a small paradise hidden in silence.
Later, he went searching for Hua Xu.
Not in the library, nor in the main hall.
But in the garden, he saw him with Ling Xu beneath the soft light of afternoon.
Xiu Zhao approached, his face bright with joy.
Hua Xu looked up from his book, noticing the rare sparkle in the boy's eyes.
"What makes you so happy, Zhao'er?"
"Hua Xu… could you buy rose seeds for me?"
"Rose seeds?" Hua Xu chuckled. "Did you see some along the way?"
"There aren't even roses in this garden!" teased Ling Xu.
"Stop teasing me!" Xiu Zhao blurted, face turning red. "I just want to have my own flowerbed again…"
The laughter faded from Hua Xu's lips.
He sighed and closed his book.
"I'll send a servant to buy them for you."
But curiosity still pressed at his chest.
"Tell me, Zhao'er… where did you see roses?"
The boy hesitated.
"I… I…"
Hua Xu's gaze softened with realization.
"It was your friend, wasn't it?"
Silence answered.
A tiny nod confirmed it.
"Hahaha! He's turning red like a tomato!" laughed Ling Xu.
Xiu Zhao lowered his head, ears burning.
"I'm leaving!" he said, rushing off as their laughter followed him.
"Zhao'er…" Hua Xu murmured, smiling. "It's normal to feel this way when you're in love. And you'll feel many other strange things too."
The word lingered in the air.
*In love.*
Xiu Zhao ran to his room and closed the door.
He looked into the mirror — his cheeks aflame, his heart racing.
"I… am I in love?" he whispered, fingers brushing his lips.
"Yes… I like him."
The confession fell like a petal, soft and trembling.
But it was enough to change everything inside him.
Outside, the wind swept through the petals of the roses — and even from afar, their scent seemed to answer.