Gui Lin’ai rose before the sun because it afforded him the freedom to leave without questions.

Despite the quiet shuffle of the Feng clan’s late night servants and watchmen reaching the end of their graveyard shift, Lin’ai found the complex almost reassuringly empty. The pre-dawn landscape was reminiscent of the abandoned manor houses on the outer edges of the Zhao district where that wildling boy made most of his fondest memories: scaling walls and loitering on rooftops one misstep away from caving.

He left his brother asleep in the guest house and went straight to the stable to tack Turnip, dismissing the sleepy stable master. “Go back to bed,” the young Gui boy said. It was too early to be clever, too early for anyone but him to be awake. “You should go back to sleep. It’s too early.”

Successfully fitted for a journey up to Yunji, the troubled mercenary wore his worry on his brow in the dark, determined to make the journey to Luanshi to face Tian Yuhui himself:

Lin’ai, despite his cool air and his devil-may-care demeanor, had to see where he and Yuhui stood after his long absence.

The young Gui silently led Turnip away from the House of Infinite Dawn and through Fanxing’s sleepy streets, shadows cast long all around him.

“Lin’ai!” A familial voice called from behind. “Lin—wait!”

Gui Ao was rushing down the road behind his brother. His gait was a multi-stepped mixture of hopping and running, hobbled from having one and a half shoes on, laces wild and flopping in all directions behind that disheveled youth as he tried to make that half a whole. He wore his sleeping pants still, tattered shirt uneven and hanging half off one of his sun-kissed shoulders. Staying in an actual home, despite it belonging to the disliked branch of his family, gave that poison-blood boy the luxury of wearing something other than his traveling outfit. In the safety of privacy, Ao allowed himself the vulnerability of comfort. That comfort, however, was thrown to the wind when his younger sibling decided to sneak away from him.

“Lin, where are you going?” Ao pushed past a merchant and his mule, soliciting a curse muttered under night-traveler breath. He paid the snub no mind, however, not even glancing back to see if he unseated any of the stranger’s pack in his rudeness. “Lin, don’t leave me like this! Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!! Lin, I love youuuu!”

A string of curses fell from a high window in response to Ao’s noise, followed by a hard green potato and a broken vase, aimed straight at the elder Gui’s head.

“Ao-aaaaaoooooooooo, nooooooooooooo,” Lin’ai groaned, overextending himself to fully express the dire length of his frustration. He’d done everything in his power to leave alone and yet here he was: being chased by his improperly dressed elder with the main road of Fanxing waking up to what sounded like a lover’s quarrel. “Don’t do this—don’t try to stop me!”

“I’m already here, Lin! There’s no going back!” Ao ran a hand through his wavy hair, pushing a shard of porcelain out and leaving it behind in the open street. “Turn around and look at me! At least tell me that you love me before you go, Lin! Please, my heart cannot take this!”

More shouting soon followed, accompanied by the glow of lamps lit in the early dawn windows of street-facing houses.

“Stop being dramatic—you can always turn back!” Lin’ai’s path grew angrier with every step the brothers took and, though he wasn’t particularly embarrassed, his ears grew red under the cover of dark. “You can’t follow where I go. I won’t look! Just go!”

“Give me a reason why!” Ao was diligent in his pursuit, stumbling over himself, boot tongues hanging out, flapping listlessly upon his scuffed toes. “Lin, just give me one good reason to let you go!”

“GO BACK TO QUAN,” the younger boy snapped as he finally turned, accompanied by a soft chorus of oooooohs from eavesdropping grandmothers. He was tired and his perpetual good cheer had been worn thin by the circle of questions he held in his heart for Yuhui. “I’ve got business on the mountain. I’ll be back tonight.”

“You always let your business take you away from me.” Ao turned mopey, dragging the soles of his shoes across the pavement like this experience was physically hurting him. “How can you tell me to go back to Quan? After you’ve seen the way he treats me?! All I care about is you, Lin! You’re my everything!!”

Buying into the sob-story playing out before them, a crowd of older women gathering on their balconies gently cooed at the clear amount of affection the boy in pursuit held for the boy on the horse.

“Everyone knows our business now—is that what you want? Is that what you wanted?” Lin’s pace was halted as he watched his brother drag himself down the road. “Quan will buy you whatever you want while I’m away. Go home!”

Ao furiously shook off the suggestion, extending his arm long for his sibling, the other clutched atop his heart, grasping the poor excuse of a shirt he wore. “I don’t want whatever Quan will buy me. I want YOU, LIN’AI!! Can Quan buy you, Lin?! Are you for sale? How much of Quan’s money will it take to get you to stay?!”

“This is stupid,” Lin’ai intoned flatly, unimpressed by his brother’s theatrics. “I’ve gotta go now if I’m gonna get there and back by dark.”

“My feelings are stupid now?” Ao fell to his knees, sly eyes only able to unsharpen themselves when they were taking part in an elaborate falsehood. The older Gui pouted, a mockery of sadness on full display, a lighthearted coating over the underlying issue of his concern for his kin’s well-being. “Is that how you truly feel, Lin’ai?”

“I’m pregnant and I’m getting rid of the baby.” Tired of the antics, Lin’ai delivered his coffin closer and turned to the confused whispers of their audience, leading Turnip on down the road toward the mountain looming in the distance.

“Wait!!” Ao jumped up from his position, jogging to catch up with his fleeing brother, leaving their audience to dwell upon the spectacular—and slightly confusing—conclusion of their show. He settled into an even pace alongside Lin’ai, affectionately patting the neck of their mare.

“Seriously, Lin. Are you going to be okay? I’m just worried about you is all.” Ao glanced up, dark eyes affixed to the rider.

“Look, I know you don’t want me to see him ’cause you think I’m gonna open those wounds up again but I can’t stop thinking about him. I really need to see him before arena.” Lin’ai was more open now that their business wasn’t being shouted down the road like an early morning soap opera. “I’m sorry I left without telling you. I thought you’d stop me. And I don’t really want Quan and them to know.”

“I get it. I know I haven’t been the best in supporting you,” Ao’s words took a more serious turn, meeting his brother’s honesty with his own. His hand fell back to his side. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to sneak out. I’m here for you no matter what you decide to do, okay? You gotta do what’s best for you and I’m with you for whatever that is.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I have to get rid of the baby but I really appreciate you respecting my choice,” Lin’ai replied with a grin, dragging their serious blip back into their playful cover. “Just keep Quan off my back. Just tell him I got drunk at a brothel or something.”

“Sure thing.” Ao nodded. “I’d walk with you up the mountain, but I’m not really dressed for the occasion. Guess I’ll go master that walk of shame for whoever is still on their stoops back there. If our story has significantly grown by the time you get back, don’t get mad at me, k?”

“Don’t name the baby,” Lin warned.

“No promises,” Ao countered with a tilt of his chin.

“Never any promises,” Lin grumbled as he ambled out of Fanxing.