Dying? He was dying?!

"How… how is that possible?" Li Meirong murmured, more to herself than to him. She had been completely blindsided by the confession.

Zhu Qingyue didn't answer. The rain caused his long hair, darker now it was wet, to cling to his skin like grey ink, obscuring the look of weakness that had come to his face.

He was, Li Meirong thought, one of those people who couldn't be read easily. Every time she had encountered him in the past, his expression had barely changed. He would say the most confusing things to her, turning her world inside out with a mere sentence. However, his baritone voice had always sounded completely calm and untroubled. He had always seemed entirely unfazed by anything that he had encountered or said.

Now, however, she could sense the sorrow that radiated from him, could hear the heartbreak and even fear in his voice.

Li Meirong's heart twinged, as though pierced through by a thorn. He was in pain, ill and dying, and she had just pushed the poor man to the floor not five minutes ago!

After his weak attempt at forcing her away from him, Li Meirong resolutely took control of the situation. She placed one of his arms around her shoulders, letting him rest his body weight against her. His wide sleeve, heavy with water, covered her side and clung like a wet blanket. She managed, after several attempts, to help him to his feet, struggling under his weight. He was certainly no waif of a man.

Nevertheless, despite the difficulty of her chosen task, Li Meirong did not utter a single word of complaint. She used all her strength and focus to maintain his balance.

The rain was no longer gentle, no longer softly pitter-pattering down on the stone of the courtyard. The drizzle had become a fierce storm, the temperature dropping significantly as the wind howled with a vengeance. Both Li Meirong and Zhu Qingyue were completely drenched.

"Assist me to my residence and I shall tell you of my condition, if you are so interested." Zhu Qingyue's words were laced with a bitterness that had the guilt burrowing deeper into Li Meirong's being.

"What about the mentorship?" Li Meirong asked. "Am I not supposed to return to Grandmaster Zhu Zhang's hall?" She wanted to avoid violating any more laws than she already had within this ridiculous, stuffy sect.

"I have already settled the issue with my father. Consider yourself his direct disciple from now on, as well as my personal student." Zhu Qingyue spoke as though there was nothing for Li Meirong to be concerned about, as though the matter was a mere trifle.

Li Meirong had expected a traditional ceremony between master and student to formalize the start of her apprenticeship. Somehow the abruptness of the mentorship seemed a little half-assed, but she didn't intend to probe into the subject any further. She assumed that her bad reputation was to blame for the lack of a conventional ceremony.

"I understand," she said softly. She was half dragging Zhu Qingyue as they left the courtyard, passing the garden which surrounded it and heading to the neighboring residence at a steady but slow pace. She had the peculiar feeling that she was being watched, though she couldn't place where the feeling was coming from.

Following Zhu Qingyue's directions, she pulled him into his house, straight into the main parlor. Luckily it wasn't all that far from where they had been, and the odd feeling of being watched didn't last for long.

Zhu Qingyue's residence was shockingly pristine, especially in contrast to hers. The polished wooden floor gleamed, and the parlour sparkled with cleanliness. There was not even a single speck of dust to be seen. Beautiful statues of mythological figures hung from the walls, and a showcase of exquisitely made weapons - swords, axes, and similar such creations - was on display. The place most definitely fit the image of a wealthy upper class man, except for one tiny detail.

The living room was barely furnished. No chairs, no sofas… not even a single pillow. She wondered if Zhu Qingyue even had a bed to sleep in. And, as she discovered with a glance about the room, they were completely alone. There was not a single attendant to be seen or heard. How odd.

This place didn't look like it was inhabited by anyone at all. It seemed more a display home than one that had ever been lived in.

With little other choice available to her, Li Meirong gently settled Zhu Qingyue down on the wooden floor and then knelt in front of him. She must have looked visibly puzzled, as Zhu Qingyue stated, "I do not enjoy servants pestering me throughout the day."

"I see." Li Meirong's reply was curt, almost too short to be polite. She bit her lower lip, feeling awkward now that she knew they were alone together in a closed space. She didn't wish to stay there long, not without someone else to be a buffer.

Zhu Qingyue adjusted himself to a cross-legged position, and then made a few swift signs of invocation with his elegant hands. Within seconds, he had conjured a small fire sprite, which sprouted a set of tiny, nearly transparent wings. The little sprite was surrounded by a soft orange light and made a buzzing sound much like a bee or fly as it flapped its wings rapidly. It encircled both Zhu Qingyue and Li Meirong in a trail of hazy orange light, and then disappeared an instant later.

Li Meirong was suffused by a gentle warmth, and was awed by the spectacular occurrence. She wondered if, by learning from Zhu Qingyue, she would be able to summon sprites such as that one for herself.

The raindrops that trailed down from her hairline had evaporated, and her clothes had magically dried. The orange haze dissipated shortly after.

Zhu Qingyue sat before her in a meditative pose, as immaculately dry as she was. It was difficult to believe that less than an hour ago he had collapsed to the ground with blood dripping from his lips, or that he had been soaked to the core only a moment ago.