Past—

There were thousands of reasons to keep Lei Hua out of his life, but with a single confrontation from the cultivator, Qian Meng was left sputtering and agreeing to things he knew he should have condemned. Now, they sat on the bench along the far wall of his bathing chamber, barely a foot apart, in pure silence. The prince eyed the man, trying to gauge what would happen next. Lei Hua hadn't said a word since they agreed to speak after his bath, but neither had Qian Meng.

Because what was he to say?

This was the first time emotion had ever controlled him so easily. The prince prided himself on his ability to put feelings into small boxes to be stored away, but this felt too big to be ignored. Or rather, Lei Hua refused to allow it. The more he ran, the more relentless Lei Hua became when chasing after him. Even having the audacity of bringing his elder brother into it. He tightened his hands into fists where they sat atop his knees, fingers digging into his palms. It was time to come out and ask—laying bare all of his confusion just to be rid of the wavering uncertainty that'd taken root in his soul. He'd give anything to do away with it. But first, he stood, shooting up from the bench with a little too much flare.

"Alright," he said, blowing out the word on a long exhale. "Let's go."

Lei Hua, who'd been examining his nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, stood to follow. Trailing along behind without argument as Qian Meng led him away from the palace. The main halls were too crowded for his sake, and being seen with the cultivator just after his punishing reminder to avoid him wasn't ideal, so they took the long way around. Moving along the backside of the barracks toward the stables where only servants roamed. When the last of the guardsmen were out of sight, the prince lazied back to the center of the path, flicking the long sleeves of his brother's opulent robe away from his wrists. He'd never get used to frivolity over practicality when it came to fashion.

"What is this?" He asked, voice clipped.

Of course, the cultivator wasn't planning on playing fair. The man caught up to him in two teasing leaps, pressing his shoulder close enough they brushed with every step.

"What do you mean?"

Qian Meng clenched his jaw, shifting away. "This thing between us."

Lei Hua laughed softly, thankfully respecting the prince's wish for distance as he straightened. "Do you remember what I mentioned the other day?"

Qian Meng was exasperated by that answer. Whenever they were together, the cultivator talked his ear off. He knew the man's favorite foods, his favored subjects of study, and all about his family. It was like he'd told no one about himself before, and the moment someone was even minutely receptive to the idea, it all came pouring out. Not that Qian Meng had ever invited it, but he hadn't stopped it either, and he supposed that was his fault.

"Stop beating around the bush," he snapped.

Lei Hua only raised his brows. "Fine, then. Let's talk about how we might be cultivation partners."

The world tilted beneath his boots; He felt it. Saw it. Yet Lei Hua didn't stumble as he calmly reached out to catch Qian Meng by the elbow, steadying him. The touch burned and soothed him all at once.

"You cannot be serious," he coughed.

"This is me chopping nails and severing iron."

He snorted, shaking his head. "And what evidence do you have of such a connection?"

Qian Meng knew he was being stubborn. Lei Hua was older than him and knew a lot more about this subject than he did. Plus, the evidence had been brewing in his chest since the night they locked eyes for the first time. He didn't know what love felt like, didn't think he was capable of it, but there was no doubting what they held between them was unique.

"Nevermind, don't answer that," Qian Meng muttered, glancing away.

Lei Hua cut his eyes to the man beside him, trying to abate the rising smile on his lips. The prince's resolve was crumbling bit by bit. All he needed to do was help it along by convincing Qian Meng it was real. That one's cultivation partner could be found in the strangest of places, and more than that—that he himself deserved the connection. Such things were easier said than done, though. And every time he was with the prince his nerves stood on end in a way they never had before. As if afraid of doing or saying something that would make Qian Meng walk away once and for all, budding magical connection be damned. So he kept all of his tricky, teasing words to himself, only giving the prince exactly what he asked for.

"Alright, I won't."

Qian Meng didn't appreciate it, though. His eyes narrowed on the cultivator the longer they walked together in undiluted silence. It was charged, as usual between them these days, and it made the prince's skin itch. He wished to shake Lei Hua by the shoulders until the man told him everything he wanted to know without having to ask. And he was well aware it was a selfish thing to expect, on top of the fact that the only thing holding him back from asking was fear. Realizing it and overcoming it were two entirely different battles, though.

He rubbed his sweaty palms down his robes with a wince, chin tilting up toward the sky. The light of day was fading. Leaving behind dusty trails of rose and shimmering orange to blanket the Earth in color. Qian Meng let the sight calm him as he took deep, even breaths. Over the years, it'd become obvious he had a problem controlling his panic. It would mount inside his chest higher and higher with every rapid beat of his heart until he exploded. Tearing at his skin or running until he collapsed or slamming his fists into the floor repeatedly until they bled. He didn't want to do such a thing in front of the man who knew everything and nothing about him all at once.

"What are you thinking about?" Lei Hua asked, having stopped beside him to wait patiently.

Their fingers brushed, barely touching, yet a zap of spiritual energy climbed up his arm and down to his toes. Qian Meng did his best not to react at all. An innocent part of him wanted to lean him, craved to do so more than he yearned for water or food, while the jagged edges of his soul screamed in protest. It left him frozen to the spot, terrified of losing the touch yet too stubborn to accept it.

He gulped. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" The cultivator snorted, tilting his head. "If you're going to lie, Meng'er, you'll have to do better than that."

The nickname, one the man had uttered a little while ago while he'd been panicking in the tub, hit him in full force now. His mind reeled, both with a distinct sense of pleasure and annoyance. Qian Meng's lips pulled to the side as he eyed Lei Hua, trying to come up with something even half as witty to say. Yet he spent more of his life in silence than he ever did speaking. It left him with dismal social skills, and thus he settled on the same boring, snapped reply.

"Don't call me that."

Lei Hua laughed, nudging his shoulder. "Ah, I think I'm beginning to understand you better."

"How so?"

The cultivator walked ahead of him a few paces, flashing him a conspiratorial grin over his shoulder. "You are not used to human connection, and every time someone gets close you bite their hand like a rabid dog hoping to save yourself some pain."

Qian Meng almost flinched but didn't have the will to deny it. "Human connection is overrated."

"Is it?"

Lei Hua stopped beside the massive carp pond along the back of the property, stooping to run his fingers through the water. The fish rushed forward, looking for food and brushing against his hands. Flashes of ivory, orange, and even bright red blotched their scales, drawing the eye. Qian Meng watched from further back, envious of Lei Hua's effortless smile as he enjoyed a simple moment. The prince could scarcely recall a time in his life where he held such easy joy.

"What did your father whip you for?"

The cultivator whispered the question into the silence, trying not to spook the man standing stoically behind him. He wanted nothing more than to know every little detail and reason for the prince's anguish. It tore apart his soul, that need.

Qian Meng shifted from foot to foot, sighing and trying not to focus on the ache that'd settled into his skin. He didn't mince his words, either. "It was because of you."

Lei Hua stiffened, hand stilling against the lapping shore as his stomach dropped out. "Me? How so?"

With care, the cultivator glanced at the prince out of the corner of his eye to gauge his mood. Was he angry about it? Resigned, as usual? Either option made Lei Hua wish to break something. But Qian Meng revealed nothing, those dark eyes of his riveted to the fish chasing each other around the pond.

"Well, it wasn't really about you, I suppose. It was a reminder to tell those who wish to get close to me the same bullshit I've been spouting since I was ten years old."

Lei Hua stood, carefully brushing off his robes despite there being no dirt in sight. "Which is?"

"That I have no time for others, and my duty to the Pondlightian Empire comes first," Qian Meng said, and the words tasted so very bitter on his tongue.

He watched the elegant cultivator's shoulders closely for a reaction, but they were no more stiff than before. The man tucked his arms behind his back and resumed walking, expecting the prince to follow. Qian Meng did, almost a little too eagerly before he caught himself and slowed down.

"And why did you not tell me to keep me away?"

The prince wet his lips, fingers trembling. Honesty had always been important to him. People that lied had no way of regaining trust from others, and it was a slippery slope. Even criminals that always spoke the truth were more respected than public officials who only told lies. So he didn't know what to do. Should he tell Lei Hua he felt the same? That he agreed they might be cultivation partners with how often his mind turned to him and how little he cared for the consequences of being near him? Because that's what this meant, right?

He gulped. "It is how you say."

"Hm?" The cultivator asked, turning toward him as the bustle of a nearing crowd grew louder.

They were coming full circle and would soon arrive at the outdoor banquet space just in time for dinner to begin. Qian Meng didn't want to speak about their personal matters anywhere near this place, so he refused to elaborate even when the cultivator stopped and waited for him to catch up. But of course, in the usual fashion, Lei Hua's next words made the prince want to throw himself off a cliff.

"That we are fated? Is that what you mean?" He asked.

"You!" he shouted, aghast.

Lei Hua grinned, crimson gaze sparkling with barely concealed mirth. Servants within earshot paused, some even turned to look at them with wide eyes before scurrying away. Qian Meng felt his cheeks blushing a terrible scarlet, and he suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands. They flew through the air despite his silence, going every which way as Lei Hua watched, arching a brow. The only saving grace was that the noble house hadn't shown up yet. Only the royal musicians played softly in one corner where the Lei family stood, holding glasses of rice wine. Lei Changming spotted them first, gesturing toward them.

"Hua-di!"

The cultivator, who'd been quite enjoying the sight before him, sighed before turning his head. "Brother."

Their father was looking over curiously as well, face void of emotion as it always was. And when Lei Hua began stalking toward them, Qian Meng did his best to slip away, perhaps to grab something to drink. But the cultivator seemed to expect this, latching onto his wrist so tightly it was impossible to get away. He then dragged Qian Meng, nearly kicking and screaming, across the courtyard to his family.

"Shufu," Lei Hua greeted, bowing in respect.

The prince scrambled to follow the example, holding out his arms before him and bowling so low his hair spilled forward to conceal his face.

"Good afternoon, children. Stand up, young prince. There's no need for formality here. My eldest has been telling me of your quick wit and skill with a sword."

Qian Meng, still trying to get over what the man's youngest son just teased him with, sputtered as he straightened. "Ah, uh, thank you. It's nothing, really. Your sons are brilliant compared to me."

A smile ghosted over Grandmaster Lei's lips. "I know. I trained them myself."

It was meant as a jest, but the prince might have overreacted. A strangled laugh left his throat, high and grating. It was a terrible sound, and Lei Changming gave him a look as if to say—what the hell are you doing?

"Do not listen to his drivel, Shufu," Lei Changming said, gesturing to Qian Meng. "He is skilled enough to face either of us without breaking a sweat. Perhaps not both just yet, though."

The older man hummed in thought, appraising the prince. He felt dizzy, his sweaty palms almost dripping. As if noticing, Lei Hua stepped closer to him until their shoulders brushed, and Qian Meng hated just how much tension drained out of him the moment the man did so.

"Perhaps he should go out on a hunt with us," the Grandmaster suggested.

The awkward tint to the air was minor now, but the Lei family couldn't stop staring at the spot their shoulders were connected. Lei Changming's eyes were narrowed in a glare while his father only appeared mildly curious. Qian Meng opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to come up with something worthwhile to say, but his throat was dry enough that if he tried to swallow, he might choke. Lei Hua must have taken pity on him, for the man saved the prince from himself, salvaging the situation with his usual flair.

"We plan to go out tomorrow, correct?" Lei Hua asked. "Let's bring him along."

That tore the elder's gaze away so he could turn those steely, crimson eyes on his son. "Only if you swear to protect him. I will not do so, there is no time for it."

Before Lei Hua could say something embarrassing as the prince knew he would, Qian Meng cut in. "I understand and will protect myself, Grandmaster Lei. You have my word."

The man appraised him for a moment before nodding. "And I trust your word, prince."

Lei Hua looked put out for having been overshadowed by Qian Meng's decree and might've commented on it if not for the music coming to a gentle stop. As they were speaking, many other guests had arrived at the banquet. Drinking with merriment and darting glances at the rare family of ethereal cultivators visiting the palace. Now, at the start of the path stood his father and brother, the younger one standing a step behind but with just as much self-importance.

Qian Meng's blood went cold, and he was thankful when Lei Hua didn't stop him from covertly slipping away. Putting a few zhang between them. A servant walked by, and the prince snatched two glasses of sparkling wine from the tray. If he was forced to be here, then he might as well get drunk and contemplate how he was supposed to get out of going on a hunt with the cultivators now striding to meet the king in the center of the yard. The music started up again, rising into a soft crescendo along with murmuring voices. He felt his gaze burning into the spot between Lei Hua's shoulder blades, but he couldn't quite stop himself from doing so.

The man had bamboozled him into something yet again, but this time it involved his entire family. If he went, there would be no way to hide it from his father. But if he didn't go, he risked offending the Grandmaster and thus getting another beating either way. . . Damn, he thought, shaking his head. Would it be best to embrace it? To enjoy what would probably be the one and only hunt he'd ever have the pleasure of going on? He wanted to, but Qian Meng rarely got what he wanted.

"I can't believe father invited you."

The prince cut his eyes to where Qian Zihao now stood, having slipped away from the king's side to annoy him. He wasn't afraid of his brother like he was their father, so Qian Meng didn't bother hiding his disdain.

"I can't either," he replied.

His brother stepped closer. "Why were you speaking with the cultivators? Father might not have noticed before you slipped away, but I did."

Qian Meng couldn't resist spouting the sharp retort dancing across his tongue. "The only reason you noticed is because you're unerringly obsessed with me. Why is that, Xiongdi?"

Qian Zihao's upper lip twitched, aching to shift into a sneer. Yet he knew his brother cared more about saving face than anything else, and would never show his usual ugly expressions here. But his hand came up to curl around the prince's upper arm, fingers digging into the flesh.

"Shut your mouth," he hissed, voice low.

Qian Meng let his eyes drop slowly to Zihao's hand, face void of emotion. "I will do no such thing."

The words were not whispered, but they were sinister enough a shiver raced down Qian Zihao's spine. His hand loosened immediately, slipping back to hang at his side as he glared holes in the side of his brother's head. The prince sighed, draining the second glass of alcohol in the hope it would make him feel something other than rage.

"What did you come over here for besides bearing your fangs and brandishing your claws?" He asked, depositing the glass on a roving tray.

Qian Zihao huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I wanted to know why you spoke with the cultivators. If you would simply answer rather than run your mouth, perhaps this conversation would be over by now."

"I spoke with them about idle things. Swordsmanship, hunting, and the like. Perhaps if you took part in such things more often, they would talk to you."

Technically, it wasn't a lie, even if it was incredibly vague. And his brother took the bait he'd laid out, completely forgetting to ask for more details upon hearing the insult. Qian Zihao pursed his lips, and it scrunched up his pretty face into something ugly.

"Your silver tongue is sharp these days, isn't it, brother? Did the cultivator teach you that?" Zihao asked, gesturing toward where Lei Hua stood laughing at something a nobleman said.

The prince refused to answer such a petty jest, crossing his arms over his dark chest and shifting from foot to foot with a wince. Even with the wine kicking in, his father had been right about his discomfort during this entire ordeal. He wouldn't be able to ignore the pain in his legs whether he stood or sat. The only relief he'd gather would be later tonight when he could finally collapse on the dirt floor of his shed.

His brother tried to needle him again. "Perhaps I should tell father to interrogate that man. Perhaps his lips would be looser, hm?"

Qian Meng stiffened at the threat. "Do not overstep, Zihao."

The crown prince sniffed, mirroring Qian Meng's stance. And to someone watching the two, it was decidedly easy to identify them as twins. One side of the coin was dark as night while the other flourished in light. People skirted around them, the tension zapping between the brothers a palpable thing.

"Do not call me that, you have no right."

Qian Meng shrugged. "Is that so? Then I suppose not a soul should, if your twin isn't even allowed such a simple courtesy."

The music rose, cutting into their bubble of stark silence as the brothers turned to look at one another. Dark fire waging war against a depthless ocean. Both were a force to reckon with in their own way, and while Qian Meng resented the man glowering at him, the tiniest part of his chest still ached for what could have been should his mother have lived. Everything would have been different, and yet. . . He looked away, back toward Lei Hua, and couldn't bring himself to regret this life. If every terrible bout of misfortune had led him to this reality where he met Lei Hua, then it was worth suffering for.

"I hate you," Qian Zihao murmured.

Qian Meng nodded, not looking at him. "I know."

He'd heard those words so many times they'd lost all meaning.

"Say it back," the crown prince demanded.

Qian Meng refused, keeping silent. While a festering rage had boiled inside his chest since the young age of seven, the prince had never voiced it. Only funneled the constant stream of abuse into himself to be stored away—for strength bred from emotion was ten times more profound than empty motivations. At least that was what he told himself to survive.

Without another word, Qian Zihao left with a flick of his robes, looking very much like a Paper Tiger.

⚔

The dinner that followed was dreadfully boring. However, Qian Meng was grateful for the spread of food offered to him. Having a full stomach would promote healing, and with his newly heightened cultivation level, perhaps the bruises and stiffening pain would fade by morning. The prince kept that thought in mind as he and Lei Hua walked side by side toward his home in the barracks, the silence between them comfortable. For once, it didn't even bother him that the cultivator's shoulder brushed against his with every other step. It was warm, almost welcoming.

"May I speak freely?" Lei Hua suddenly asked.

Qian Meng gave him the side eye. "Do as you wish."

The cultivator smiled, then grimaced, cheeks heating as he looked away. "This is quite an embarrassing plea to make, but I'd like you to accompany me back to the Zephyr Temple once my family's business here has concluded."

The prince stopped before his home, careful to keep his surprise from showing across his features. This felt too fast for his liking. As if Lei Hua was soaring on his cultivation sword, going hundreds of Li per hour, while Qian Meng desperately sprinted along below him. There was no chance of keeping up, but he also loathed the idea of being left behind. While counting the grain on the door of his shed with great focus, he forced himself to respond.

"Why?"

Lei Hua stepped up beside him, turning his whole body to face the prince in the hope he'd look back at him. "Because there you can flourish as a cultivator. Isn't that what you want?"

Qian Meng didn't dare look at him, for if he did, he might give in yet again, without a second thought. Plus, such a thing wasn't what he desired. Not really. All his life, the prince's only goal was to become strong enough to save himself. To stand up against his oppressors and take back his own life, hopefully with enough vigor to leave this godforsaken palace behind. Cultivation was nothing more to him than a means to that end. But Lei Hua. . . He wasn't and had never been, a part of that equation. He was an outlier of epic proportions, one Qian Meng couldn't seem to ignore.

The prince worried his bottom lip. "I'm not the upstanding man you think I am, Lei Hua."

The name on his tongue felt strange, but he quite liked the reaction the cultivator had. Rearing back slightly with wide eyes and an even deeper blush than before.

"How is that possible? If I do not know your true self, no one does," he argued.

The words were so true they left a hollow feeling in Qian Meng's chest. "Exactly."

As if he couldn't take it anymore, Lei Hua grasped the prince by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye. And Qian Meng granted him that courtesy, mouth going dry at just how close their faces were. He could count the flecks of visceral amber in the man's irises, marveling at how thick his lashes framing them were.

"You are worthy," he murmured.

Qian Meng flushed, and he feared the words would forever elicit such a reaction from him no matter how many times they were uttered. "Stop saying that."

Lei Hua grinned. "You know I won't. So please, come home with me. I vow on my life to protect you."

His emotions raged through his chest, swelling until he couldn't think. Couldn't breathe as he floated through a sea of unease. Qian Meng reach out impulsively, grasping onto Lei Hua's forearm tightly and bringing them so close there was nowhere left to run, nothing else he could say in protest. The words that left his mouth were of the deepest truth he harbored, torn out from the roots of his soul to be laid bare before the impossibility of his Zhiyin.

"I will, because the Winds and the Waves all led me to you, and I will not ignore the will of the Heavens. Only when their guidance fails will I lose faith in the Divine."

Lei Hua inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around his arm as he smiled. "A Thousand-mile Journey begins with the First Step, and we will take it together."