Feiyin sat in quiet contemplation, his fingers absently gliding across the smooth surface of his guqin, the gentle hum of its strings filling the air. He had purchased it over a year ago, a rare find in the menial disciple market—a finely crafted instrument, though worn from time and use. Yet, to him, it was perfect. Every time his fingers plucked its strings, he could almost hear his mother’s voice, singing softly as she used to, the melodies weaving through the cracks of his memories, soothing the ache of longing.

  He let out a slow breath, his mind drifting to moments that had shaped the past few years.

  It had been the night before Yue’s eleventh birthday when she announced she would be moving out of their shared cabin. She had grown noticeably more self-conscious over time, becoming aware of the differences between herself and her three male companions. Though she never directly said it, Feiyin could sense the unease that had been forming in her.

  “I’m moving into the next cabin over with Hui,” she declared, crossing her arms as she looked at them with a determined expression.

  Ren, never one to let a moment go, immediately grinned. “What, feeling shy all of a sudden? You're afraid one of us is going to steal your secret beauty routines?”

  Yue’s ears twitched, and in an instant, her fist met the top of Ren’s head. A perfectly measured hit—not too hard, but just enough for a satisfying thump.

  Ren winced, rubbing the sore spot. “Tch. See if I care. I bet you’ll wake her up with your snores anyway.”

  Shen Mu, ever the observer, let out a quiet smirk as he watched the exchange.

  Feiyin, for his part, simply laughed. It was a small moment, but one that warmed him even now.

  Hui Ying had been their neighbor for nearly a year before Yue moved out of their shared cabin. At first, she had been nothing more than a quiet presence—a shadow slipping in and out of her own space, always keeping to herself. She spoke to no one, acknowledged no one, and if not for Feiyin’s oscillation sense, he might have thought she truly felt nothing at all.

  But beneath that frosty exterior, she was simply… shy. Guarded.

  They started noticing small things about her—the way she always finished her meals alone in her cabin instead of the communal canteen, the way her gaze lingered on them whenever they returned from a mission, the way she carefully observed the world around her while pretending not to. She was reserved, but not indifferent. She wanted to reach out, yet something held her back.

  It had been Yue who finally broke the ice.

  One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, Yue had caught the scent of something delicious wafting from next door. Tired, hungry, and utterly shameless when it came to food, she had wandered over, sniffing the air like a starving wolf.

  Hui had been startled when Yue knocked on her door, plate in hand, eyes bright with mischief.

  “I smell food. Good food. You wouldn’t happen to have some to spare, would you?”

  Hui had blinked, clearly taken aback, but before she could refuse, Yue had flashed a playful grin and added, “Come on, consider it a neighborly gesture. Or, if you’d prefer, a trade! I’ll owe you one.”

  Silence had stretched between them for an awkward beat, but to their surprise, Hui had hesitated, then wordlessly stepped aside to let Yue in.

  That had been the start.

  Slowly, bit by bit, Hui had begun warming up to them. At first, it was only Yue who visited, but then Ren showed up, curious about this elusive neighbor. Shen Mu followed, intrigued by her quiet yet sharp mind. Feiyin had already known, through oscillation, that she was far more expressive than she let on, but seeing her gradually lower her walls had been a cute sight.

  She never became loud or overly social, but she started showing up more. She joined them for occasional meals, then missions, and eventually, it became natural to have her around.

  By the time Yue moved in with her, it wasn’t even a surprise.

  As the guqin’s notes faded into the stillness of his cabin, Feiyin leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting toward the saber resting beside him.

  His own craftsmanship. The first blade he had ever forged that he was proud of.

  He traced his fingers along its hilt, feeling the weight of his own work. The process of refining it had been painstaking, full of failures and adjustments, but that was exactly why he treasured it. Every imperfection, every hard-earned success in shaping the metal—it reminded him of his father.

  Cai Feng’s voice echoed in his mind. A blade is not just a weapon, Feiyin. It is an extension of your will. A poorly made one will falter in battle. A well-made one will never betray you.

  He practiced with it often, honing both his technique and the weapon itself. Each swing, each movement, brought him closer to the discipline his father had instilled in him. He had yet to find a blade style that truly appealed to him, but that didn’t matter. Right now, he was focusing on understanding the blade, the intent behind it. Not just as a tool—but as an art.

  Much like the guqin.

  Much like everything else in his life.

  Feiyin sat in his usual spot near the window, letting the late afternoon light filter through the wooden slats of their cabin. The faint scent of herbs clung to his hands, remnants of the refinement session he'd finished just before Ren came stomping in, his grey skin lightly dusted with dirt, dark hair messy from battle.

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  "Do you still have some of those healing pills?" Ren asked casually, though the stiffness in his movements betrayed his nonchalance.

  Feiyin arched his brow. "You got injured again?"

  Ren grunted, dropping onto a stool with a sigh. "Fought a peak-ranked first-class beast today. Slippery thing. Caught me off guard with a tail whip."

  Yue, who had just stepped in with Hui, snorted at his words. Her golden eyes gleamed with amusement as she crossed her arms, her white lynx-like ears twitching. "Oh? The great Ren got caught off guard? Should I be worried?" she teased.

  Hui, standing just beside her, glanced at Ren with quiet curiosity. Her dark hair framed her pale face, her blue eyes taking in his state. She didn't comment, but Feiyin saw the concern in her gaze.

  Ren rolled his eyes. "It was a momentary lapse. I still won."

  Feiyin chuckled, reaching into his storage pouch. "Lucky for you, I just finished refining a fresh batch."

  He withdrew a small porcelain bottle, twisting the cap off. A mild herbal fragrance filled the room, sharp but pleasant. Before he could hand it over, Yue’s nose twitched, and she sniffed the air instinctively.

  Her golden eyes widened slightly. "Your pills have gotten so much better over the years," she mused, leaning in closer. "I remember when they used to look like complete disasters. Now they glisten like candy and smell... good."

  Feiyin smirked. "So you do remember how terrible they were."

  Yue gave an exaggerated shudder. "Oh, trust me, I do."

  Feiyin's mind drifted to the years of progress he had made in alchemy.

  When he first began, he had little more than theory to rely on. The first time he had attempted refining a simple healing pill, the result had been... abysmal. Two had been completely scorched, reduced to brittle black husks that crumbled at the slightest touch. The one that survived had been rough, pockmarked with imperfections. A failure in every way.

  Still, he had felt something stir within him that day. A spark of excitement—like when he had first discovered music. Alchemy was an art of its own, a harmony of ingredients and energy. Each herb had a resonance, an essence that could be drawn out, much like the strings of a guqin. The challenge of refining them into something greater intrigued him.

  So he experimented. Learned. Failed. Failed again. Until, over the years, he had built a foundation strong enough to produce pills that could rival seasoned apprentices.

  Unlike most alchemists who followed rigid recipes, Feiyin had developed a habit of adjusting and modifying ingredients to maximize their resonance. Through countless trials, he had found combinations that improved even basic pill formulas, making them more effective.

  And he had kept most of his best work for himself and those closest to him.

  Yue suddenly grinned mischievously. "Oh yeah, Hui ran out of the cramp relief pills you made. Do you have more?"

  Feiyin’s lips twitched at the sudden shift in conversation.

  Hui’s blue eyes widened slightly before she shot Yue a sharp look. "Aren’t you the one who finished them all?" she asked, her voice quiet but pointed.

  Yue blinked, her grin faltering for a moment before she scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "Same thing," she muttered.

  Feiyin chuckled and shook his head. "I have more," he said, reaching into his pouch again.

  Women cultivators, especially before reaching the Qi Condensation Realm, still had to deal with natural cycles, including menstrual cramps. It was only once their energy control was refined that they could regulate such things. When Yue had first started experiencing them, Feiyin had looked into alchemical remedies and improved a basic formula, creating something that worked far better.

  He handed a small bottle to Hui, who accepted it with a small nod, her fingers lingering over the cool porcelain.

  Feiyin had made a name for himself in the menial disciple section as a promising apprentice alchemist. While he sold standard pills through the exchange hall to build up contribution points, his finest work always remained within his circle.

  Ren leaned back, watching the exchange with mild amusement before shifting topics. "I haven’t seen Shen Mu since yesterday."

  Feiyin capped his pouch. "He’s still recovering from ingesting his new poison."

  Yue grinned. "As expected of our poison master!"

  Hui, still holding the pill bottle, murmured, "You know he doesn’t like that nickname."

  A voice cut through from behind them. "Are you still spreading that title you made up?"

  Shen Mu stepped into the cabin, his dark green hair slightly damp, his sharp brown eyes narrowing at Yue. Despite his words, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

  Yue laughed, entirely unbothered. "Isn’t it true, though?"

  Shen Mu shook his head but didn’t deny it. "Not yet. But in a few more years, that will be different."

  Feiyin smiled at the banter, feeling warmth settle in his chest. It had been a while since all of them had gathered like this, without the burden of training, missions, or sect politics weighing them down.

  He exhaled, leaning forward. "It’s been a while since we were all able to meet up and relax. Why don’t we make a small feast to celebrate?"

  Ren’s grin widened. "I just brought back some first-class beast meat, so that works!"

  Yue perked up, her golden eyes shining with excitement. "Good idea!" She turned to Hui, eyes gleaming. "Hui, your cooking is the best. Can you take care of it?"

  Everyone turned expectantly to Hui, whose face turned a soft shade of pink under their combined stares.

  She hesitated for a moment before quietly nodding. "Okay."

  Shen Mu clapped his hands together. "I’ll bring some seasonings."

  Yue’s expression immediately shifted. "No! Don’t make it too spicy!"

  Ren smirked. "So fierce, yet you fear a few spices."

  Feiyin chuckled, standing up. "Alright, let’s get started then."

  The kitchen they had arranged was a simple yet efficient space, a small corner of one of the side buildings they had repurposed for meal preparation. It wasn’t much—just a sturdy wooden counter, a fire pit, and a collection of pots and utensils they had gathered over time. But under Hui’s guidance, it transformed into something else entirely.

  Hui moved with quiet confidence, her once reserved demeanor melting away as she took control of the preparations. Her hands were steady as she chopped vegetables, her movements precise and practiced.

  Feiyin recalled how she had once told him, in a rare moment of openness, that her mother had been a chef. Cooking was more than just a necessity for her—it was a connection to something she had lost.

  Yue, eager but entirely unskilled, attempted to help but was quickly relegated to fetching ingredients instead of handling the actual cooking. Ren, after a few attempts at butchering the beast meat, was shooed away by Hui after nearly ruining the cut.

  Shen Mu, to everyone’s mild surprise, turned out to be quite skilled at seasoning, though Yue kept a close eye on him to ensure he didn’t go overboard with the spice.

  Feiyin, for his part, watched them all with a quiet sense of contentment.

  They had survived together. Grown together.

  And in a world that sought to control them, shape them into something they were not, moments like these—where they could simply be—were rare.

  So he treasured them.