Past—

Weeks passed in a blur of healing, meditation, and Lei Hua's annoying smile. Qian Meng was looking at it now as they sat across from each other, knees barely touching, with their hands resting atop them. They'd finished another session of silent training. The ebb and pull of spiritual qi a soft, lapping tide in his chest. It took no time at all for the prince to learn to condense his qi. Even so, the two continued to meditate together each day. He wasn't sure why the cultivator continued to show up, nor did he know why he never snapped at the man to go away.

Maybe it was because Qian Meng didn't want him to, not really, not anymore. Sure, when they'd first met, he'd thought it better for him and everyone else that they keep their distance. Maintaining the shivering balance of power in this god-forsaken palace was a priority if only to stave off future pain. And yet. . . Here he was. Sitting across from the cultivator and reveling in the way their energies had become so synced Qian Meng could feel Lei Hua from a mile away. Two miles. A lifetime, perhaps. As if they were blessed by the Celestial Beings to meet and bond over magic. It was a fool's notion, or a desperate one, or both. Qian Meng was well aware of that.

"Have you ever had honey-roasted sweet potatoes?" Lei Hua asked casually, climbing to his feet and patting the dust from his robes.

The prince eyes him as he did, doing his best to hold back the softest of smiles. After consistent refusals to all manner of meet-ups and meals, Lei Hua had changed tactics. Rather than direct proposals or invitations, it was a slow coaxing. Qian Meng caught onto such things, of course, but a small part of him wanted to play along. Liked to tease Lei Hua back, if only a little.

"I have not."

He rose in one fluid movement, his body having healed nicely. There was no longer a reason for ointment or slow movement. Thus, he'd begun sparring with the brothers in the mornings—much to Lei Changming's dismay—while training his budding spiritual core in the evenings. He could sense a newfound strength surging through him now that he'd completed the qi condensation stage. Next would be the foundation establishment stage, which Lei Hua refused to teach until Qian Meng could keep a constant bank of power. He must build up his dantian and hold it, forcing his body to carry it with him at all times rather than allowing it to flow away. Only when it became second nature could he inspect the writhing magic in his chest. Truthfully, he'd never been so excited about something in his entire life.

He began moving down the slope, feet picking up speed with every step. Lei Hua scrambled to follow him, walking at his side with his torso leaning forward into the prince's space. Despite the man's often pretty way of speaking, this was his default posture. Leaning. Slouching. Slumping. The calling card of a man who didn't care for what others thought of him, nor the rigid rules of any sect. Even his own. Qian Meng wanted it to irritate him, but it had instead grown on him like a fungus. Forming a sense of begrudging respect.

"Well, there's a stall in the lower city my family visited on the way back a few days ago that I quite enjoyed."

"Hm."

The soft response rumbled out of him as he stopped on the cobble path through the castle's back gardens to bow low in the presence of a lady. The woman in question was a concubine of his father's, dressed in a beautiful blush pink robe edged in golden thread and spun with the motif of hibiscus flowers. He'd never met her, didn't even know her name. Yet this was the third time the two had seen her on their daily trek back to the barracks, and Qian Meng saw a pattern.

"My lady," he murmured.

She barely looked at him, eyes instead gluing the cultivator at his side. Lei Hua, too, bowed low with a sweep of his arms and a cheeky grin on his lips. As if flipping a coin, the woman's expression warmed. Her gilded fan snapped out to hide her smile, and a soft giggle left her lips. Qian Meng wanted to gag at the sight, but he remained stoically silent, arms crossed over his chest.

"We keep meeting like this!" The woman exclaimed, taking a small step closer.

Lei Hua gave her a polite smile. "So it seems."

The words were honey-laced, but Qian Meng had learned how to decode the man's multitude of smiling expressions as of late. A genuine, full, toothy grin meant true happiness. A soft grin, hiking up one side of his mouth, revealed amusement, mockery, or both. But the one on his face now, full lips pressed together in a closed-mouth smile that didn't reach his eyes. . . Well, Qian Meng supposed most people would know what it implied. Go away. I dislike you. However, the concubine did not notice, or perhaps didn't care.

"Are you on your way to the hall for dinner?" She asked, batting her lashes.

The prince shifted from foot to foot, straining himself not to roll his eyes so hard they fell into the back of his skull. For once in his life, he was grateful for being a social pariah. The idea of dealing with these kinds of occurrences day in and day out was exhausting to him. Lei Hua smoothly tucked his arms behind his back when the woman boldly reached for him, aching to hold his hand. Qian Meng had to turn away to hide his surprised snort, masking it by beginning a lazy pace toward his usual shed. Now was as good a time to part ways with the cultivator as any.

"No, I am not, unfortunately. Now, if you'd please excuse me," he heard the man murmur.

Then there was the sound of rapid feet against crunching stone, and Lei Hua was back at his side, blowing out an exaggerated breath and giving Qian Meng the side-eye for leaving him there. It took a lot for the prince to stifle his laughter, something that'd come more often and more frequently in Lei Hua's presence than with anyone else in his life.

"Oh, come on, don't look at me like that," he told him, raising a brow. "You could have left with her if you wanted to."

The assumption was wrong, Qian Meng knew that, but it was so satisfying seeing the rising blush across Lei Hua's cheeks when he teased him like this. Mentioning any kind of romance, let alone that of the physical variety, made the cultivators' skin crawl. Men from cultivation temples rarely ventured out into the world until much later, their upbringing sheltered. Even as the temple head's son, Lei Hau was no exception. It seemed to be the only thing Qian Meng had more knowledge about.

"That is not why I'm glaring at you!" Lei Hua hissed, rising to the bait.

Qian Meng couldn't hold it in anymore. He chuckled. "If you say so."

The cultivator sputtered uselessly, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The prince wanted to poke the bear again, tease him more. Every time he did, it ended up being the most fun he'd had all damn day. He refrained, though, for it really wasn't his place. While they held a tremulous sort of friendship between them, Qian Meng was not on the same level as the cultivator, title aside. He stopped in front of his door, trying not to feel embarrassed about it. Lei Hua stopped as well, furious eyes darting between it and Qian Meng.

The prince lost his smile when he noticed the usual spark of curiosity in Lei Hua's gaze. Every day, the cultivator walked him to his door, and every day he tried to follow the prince inside. Yet, Qian Meng had never and would never allow him in. There was no table to sit at for tea, no snacks to eat. Hell, there wasn't even a damn bed to sleep in or a blanket to keep him warm. He had gotten used to such things, and didn't mind having significantly less than others. But Lei Hua? He was the one pampered, the one who wanted for nothing so effortlessly it stung every time it was flaunted in Qian Meng's face. To have such a man witness how little he owned, how terribly he was treated beyond the scars. . . A part of the prince died just thinking about it.

His smile was tight as he said, "Don't worry about it. I'm only poking fun. Goodnight, cultivator Lei."

He turned away, but the man caught his arm.

"Can't I come in?"

Qian Meng didn't turn, eyes shuttering closed. "Why?"

The man's fingers tightened. "Because we are partners in cultivation."

The words were uttered almost noiselessly, so why was it deafening? The prince's ears were ringing. Cultivation partners. He stiffened, tilting his face away from Lei Hua's searching gaze. Qian Meng had a vague knowledge of what that meant, and he was certain they were no such thing. They weren't; he wasn't, they couldn't. . .

"What are you talking nonsense for? You have mentored me, that is all."

Lei Hua, who had been hovering so eagerly before him, straightened to his full height, face draining of emotion. He snapped his fingers as if remembering something important, pointing them at the prince.

"You're right, that was too far. It was only a teasing joke. Sleep well, Qian Meng."

Then he turned to go, gliding down the path without making a sound.

⚔

Days passed without a single passing view of the cultivator. Not that the prince was counting. He was busy running through sword forms on his own, taught to him by Lei Changming. After the first week, the eldest Lei brother had warmed up to him. And by warming up, Qian Meng meant the man had begun to tolerate him, berate him for his terrible form, and then force him through an impromptu lesson. It was almost a blessing there was no one around to lift his elbow or kick his feet wider apart.

If that were true, why did the silence feel so lonely?

He sighed, sheathing his sword with a huff. The thought had flitted across his mind before he could stop it, breaking his focus. It turned out Qian Meng was brutally honest to everyone, even himself. He didn't want to admit it, though. That he found pleasure in having friends. To him, it matted little that he was drastically younger. With how it felt when they joked and teased one another, they might as well all have been the same age.

But was he the only one that felt that way?

Was the prince simply reaching out, latching on, because he'd never had a relationship like this?

The answers to those vicious questions felt so obvious Qian Meng almost laughed at his own stupidity. His stomach heaved, and tunneling vision forced him to stumble toward the break in the pillars surrounding the courtyard. The prince collapsed onto the marble bench just before his knees gave out, lungs seizing.

Was he truly so desperate?

Qian Meng's fingers shook as he ran them through the loosened braid falling around his face. He hated feeling like this. What did it mean to rely on someone? The prince had always thought he leaned on Miss Mao—loved her as much as he could love anyone. But what he felt when he looked at her was a gentle sort of fondness and warmth.

When Qian Meng's gaze fell upon Lei Hua. . .

He couldn't look away. The cultivator both infuriated and attracted him like a moth to a flame. Brighter than the sun, and flashing a smile around as if it wasn't lethal enough to kill. In the past, he thought it was simply because of the knowledge Lei Hua possessed and how eagerly he'd wanted to grasp it. But now, while such a thought was still true, in theory, that sense of awe had long since faded.

The feelings had not.

Qian Meng wanted to slap himself across the forehead for missing such an important distinction.

"Fuck me," he muttered, rubbing slow circles into his temples.

Perhaps it was best for him that Lei Hua kept his distance. It forced the prince to root his thoughts in reality. It'd just been so damn long since he felt such tremulous emotion. Fantasy had up and swept him away, leaving logic to be easily pushed aside by joy. Now, in the harsh light of day and honesty, Qian Meng fell back down to Earth.

He didn't need the cultivator anymore, anyhow. The man taught him proper meditation, and thoroughly explained each step it took to form and use a golden core. Anything beyond that could surely be fumbled through on his own, perhaps with greater difficulty, but that was to be expected. He nodded to himself, courage and steely resolve forming an iron fence around his heart. Being alone was a blessing for him. That has always been true. He stood, legs no longer shaking, and clapped his hands together.

Just then, Qian Meng's ears perked up, picking up on gentle footsteps coming toward him. He slipped behind a pillar bordered by a lush dove tree, bell-like ivory flowers tickling his cheeks. The prince wrinkled his nose, leaning back just enough to see past the marble as the group rounded the corner.

"It's so safe with you around. How much longer will you be here, cultivator Lei?"

The high, familiar voice grated against Qian Meng's ears, and he winced sympathetically for his mentor. Lei Hua was trapped, face tilted away and body straining to create distance the beautiful woman refused to give, clinging to his arm. Qian Meng tutted softly, shaking his head. It was such a shame Tang Suyin got ahold of him. Her outer skin may be ethereal, but the prince knew she was a poisoned spider underneath. As his father's most dedicated bedmate, she was the only consort with the same authority as a royal bride.

Although, without the title, as it was reserved for his mother alone.

The queen's memory clung to the palace, to his father's soiled soul, like a resentful spirit. It was in Qian Wei's every movement and action, his grief. You could see it wrapping around him like a cloak each time he stood as if something overwhelmingly heavy sat upon his shoulders. People often whispered about it, leaving Tang Suyin on edge despite her heightened position. She often lashed out because of it, silencing anyone who dared speak out of turn with a slap of her hand, or worse. Qian Meng had been on the receiving end of her abuse many times. The king never punished her, for obvious reasons.

"I will be here for another month, at the longest. Our father, admittedly, is having trouble tracking the beast. We've been slaying as many horrid monsters around the primary cities in Pondlightian in the meantime, but be vigilant."

Every word out of the cultivator's mouth was clipped and factual. If one had half a brain cell, they'd know he was uninterested in playful, casual conversation. It was a complete one-eighty to the man's usual carefree attitude. Tang Suyin must truly annoy him.

She pouted, lying her head against his shoulder; elaborate jade headdress clinking. "Ah, I wish my master didn't push cultivators away so fiercely. I'd love to have you in our court more often."

"Sure you would," Qian Meng snorted to himself.

Lei Hua's gaze snapped over and the prince hid behind the pillar, heart kicking into overdrive. Had he heard? There was no way! The two were several paces away, and when Qian Meng didn't want to be heard or followed, he wasn't. End of story. He kept his back pressed into the cool marble, fingers scraping against it. There was nowhere to go unless he crawled away underneath the dove tree. But that would be ridiculous. Not even he would stoop so low.

"What's wrong, Hua-di?"

Qian Meng's entire body revolted at the sound of such an intimate nickname leaving the woman's mouth. The prince wanted to speak in harsh one-liners as Lei Changming often did when referring to his brother. Brazen-faced! Improper! Outrageous! He knew many of those would pour from the man's mouth without restraint if he were walking beside them. Lei Hua knew it too if the sour look on his face was any sign. The cultivator cut his gaze to Tang Suyin, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Nothing to concern yourself with. Please, go ahead to the main hall without me. I must double back."

Rather than wait for the protest curling in the woman's mouth to be purred at him, Lei Hua pried her fingers from his bicep with ease and supreme gentleness. Then he did exactly as he said he would, turning on his heel and striding back the way they'd come. For a moment, the consort could only stare wide-eyed at the man near running to get away. Perhaps it'd been the first time in her life a man had so blatantly dismissed her interests. Only after counting to ten in his head did she wobble forward again, her grace gone.

Qian Meng pressed his back further into the soft confines of the dove tree, keeping to the shadows. Being seen by her when she was so recently rejected surely spelled trouble. She didn't even glance his way, though, and was gone around the next bend within a few more breaths. The final heaving lungful left the prince's mouth low and slow, betraying his relief.

"She's quite the handful, isn't she?"

The voice shivered across his skin. Qian Meng jumped, slapping a hand on his burning ear and whirling around. The cultivator stood there, a casual grin on his lips and leaves sticking out from his clothes. Even his elaborate hairstyle involving a silver hair piece in the shape of a flying hawk was now crooked, a twig tearing half of it aside to lie limp. The prince glanced between the mused earth at their feet and Lei Hua's soiled appearance, again and again, brows furrowing.

"Did you crawl underneath the bushes?"

The man laughed, sparkling crimson eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes! I can't believe you didn't notice, but I understand hiding from that woman was the top priority."

Qian Meng stared at him, lips pressing together and brow furrowed. The silence between them stretched taut as Lei Hua leaned in, smiled back at him, and studied his expression.

"What's that disappointed look for? It was a stealth tactic!"

He didn't let the words affect him too much, cracking his neck and taking a deep breath with his eyes closed. Laughter was bubbling up from somewhere so very deep within himself, Qian Meng had no clue what it'd sound like if he let it free.

Lei Hua pressed on, poking him in the chest. "Speak your mind! I thought we had passed the sullen silence stage. Do not revert, or I might just toss myself off the nearest cliff."

His lips shivered, and Qian Meng was forced to poke his tongue through them to stop a forming smile. He turned on his heel to stride down the hall, arms tucked behind his back. And, as he knew the man would, Lei Hua ran two bounding steps to catch up.

"Come on," the man pleaded. "You're not my brother. Don't give me the silent treatment. Tell me what I did wrong. Is it because we didn't see each other for nearly a week? If so, I couldn't help it, really! My father dragged me out of the castle at dawn every morning and dropped me in my room well after dusk. I barely had the energy to sit up and wash myself, Qian Meng. You were on my mind, though. I swear it."

The prince cut his gaze to the cultivator hovering around him like a nervous bee. Brows raised. So the man was feeling guilty, was he? Somehow, that made the shriveling part of him he'd begun stomping out earlier unfurl. Qian Meng ignored the feeling by turning his gaze forward once more. Seeing the action as a dismissal, Lei Hua pressed in even closer, their shoulders touching and one hand gripping the prince's forearm.

"Are you going to make me say it? Because I will."

Qian Meng didn't reply. He honestly had no idea what the man was alluding to. Not that even half the things Lei Hua spouted had any meaning to them. Usually, he rambled to fill the silence as if a moment of peace was so horrifying a prospect he didn't dare allow it.

The two moved further away from the main palace buildings, the prince's steps casual while Lei Hua's were anxious, quick. For a moment, the silence was deafening, and oh how Lei Hua squirmed. Fidgeting and rolling his free hand over and over. It was one of the many tics Qian Meng had discovered since forming a bond of sorts with the man. He was not the perfect cultivator everyone thought him to be. It mirrored the concept of putting someone on a pedestal, only to look closely and find all the minute flaws they possessed.

And though he'd never admit it; Qian Meng found the man more interesting, not less, with every new one he discovered. He was about to open his mouth and put the poor man out of his misery when Lei Hua tugged on his sleeve. Asking him to stop with gentle insistence. He did, eyeing him from the side. The cultivator took a deep breath, ruby lips parting.

"I missed you, yearned—"

Qian Meng cut him off, sputtering. "Y-you!"

Lei Hua smiled, delighted that he earned a single word. "Me?" He asked with far too much mock innocence.

"You need not say such things!"

"Why not? It's true, I swear it."

Qian Meng whirled toward the man, eyes wide and face positively burning, only to find the cultivator holding back laughter. Arms tucked around his middle and cheeks puffing up. Qian Meng scowled, slamming his palm into the man's shoulder. It was the last straw, and Lei Hua let his laughter fly. The sound boomed out around them, hitting the palace walls to bounce back toward them.

"The more you say that phrase, the less weight it carries," Qian Meng hissed, turning away with a flick of his robes.

He stomped toward the barracks, fists clenched at his sides and shame a bright shot streaking through his chest. Why had he thought the man sincere?

"W-wait!" Lei Hua called breathlessly. "Come back! Ah, come on!"

The prince did no such thing, leaving the cultivator in the dust in his haste to get back to the shed. It was the only place he could go where Lei Hua would not follow. He was so stupid for assuming the man meant what he said. That Lei Hua had thought about him just as much as Qian Meng's mind stuck to the image of his laughing smile. The guise struck his mind now, and his pace quickened.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

He clenched his jaw, wiping a hand down the front of his face to rid himself of whatever wretched expression he held. There was no doubt his emotion shone on his face like a beacon, shouting to anyone who glimpsed just how much he'd wanted, perhaps even yearned for. . . For what? The prince couldn't place the clawing urge inside his chest.

"Qian Meng! Hey, wait!"

This time, Lei Hua's voice held no trace of laughter. Still, he did not turn, hand reaching for the door handle of his shed. Just one more step. One more, and you're safe. He told himself. He tugged, hauling it open with a shaking arm, only for the cultivator's palm to slam into the wood overhead. Qian Meng held his breath, eyes shuttering closed to hide his distress. To keep whatever terribly wrong feelings he had close to his chest.

"I said wait," Lei Hua breathed, soft as midnight.

He didn't respond. What did the man expect? A kind moment spent laughing together at his expense? Qian Meng had never been good at socialization, and his only practice was over these precious few weeks alongside his mentor, but that felt cruel even to him. The prince's mouth dried up, and his hand trembled where it rested on the handle, so he tightened his grip. The hand just above his head clenched a bit, fingers dragging against the wood and silver rings flashing.

"I've really messed up lately, haven't I?" The words were humorous, but in a self-deprecating way, as if Lei Hua couldn't help it. "I say one thing, and you pull away. Then I say the opposite, and you're angry."

Qian Meng swallowed hard. "I am not angry."

The man stepped closer, fingers curling further into the wood. "Then what are you feeling?"

The prince didn't know. . . He truly didn't know.

He tried to explain. "You are the first person to befriend me. To care beyond obligation, beyond what anyone says about me or you or us. Perhaps I got too comfortable with the feeling. I need time to myself, I think."

Lei Hua sucked in a breath.

"Why? I will leave in less than a month. Wouldn't it be better to learn from me as much as possible? Think of your training, of your goal."

The prince winced, hating how much the cultivator seemed to know already without him revealing a single, dirty secret. Were his desires so plain to see for everyone, or laid bare for this man alone? He was almost desperate to know, but wouldn't dare ask. Not in this moment, not when he was already feeling so vulnerable. So he said words that made his mouth taste like ash and his stomach heave in revolt.

"You are a high cultivator of Zephyr Temple. A man of prestige and grace. I am nothing. We should not be seen together, lest it taint your reputation."

There was a pregnant pause before the cultivator boldly let his forehead drop to the prince's shoulder. Qian Meng wanted his body to go rigid, but it didn't. His feet braced themselves for the extra weight, and he tilted his head slightly to give Lei Hua more room. It was both a knee-jerk reaction and the perfect example of what they'd become and how much it scared him. Lei Hua's next words were said like a prayer and spoken so softly Qian Meng was forced to hold his breath to hear them.

"Your presence makes me rise from bed each morning and smile as I go to sleep. While I may tease you about it, my words are true. Meeting you was no mistake, and you are not a burden."

Qian Meng almost choked, face going beet red as he straightened, pushing the cultivator away. Lei Hua allowed it to happen, but languidly. Pulling his body up and off the prince's as if it took him immense effort to do so. The prince opened his mouth to argue, to scream, to cry for the first time in years. Again, he didn't know.

He just didn't know.

Lei Hua cleared his throat, pulling Qian Meng's eyes back to his face. The man looked sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. As if he was surprised at his own behavior.

"Think about it for now, and we will talk again."

But this time, he didn't leave or turn away. He waited.

Qian Meng had to swallow three times before he could rasp a single word. "Okay."

The cultivator smiled, but it was wavering. "Okay."