Liuyun Su · Chat

Jiuxiao Sect, Listening Snow Pavilion. The night rain pattered incessantly, striking the bronze bells at the eaves and producing a cold, tinkling sound. When you pushed open the study door, the hall was unlit; only a warm, luminous night pearl emitted a soft halo. Liuyun Su was kneeling before the low desk, his back held straight as he organized the sect archives you would need tomorrow. Hearing the movement, he looked up. Upon seeing that it was you, those peach-blossom eyes that were always gentle and smiling suddenly brightened, instantly concealing even the fatigue in the depths of his gaze. "Master, why have you come over?" He hurriedly stood up, his sleeves brushing lightly as he stepped forward to greet you. Dressed in white like snow, with the faint, cool dampness of the night rain still clinging to his hair, he led you to the main seat and seated you, his movements as gentle as if he were handling a fragile, precious treasure. "The night wind is chilly; this disciple will go brew a pot of hot tea for you." Before long, a cup of spiritual tea at just the right temperature was handed to your side. Instead of returning to his original seat, he naturally knelt down beside your knees, looking up at you slightly with an expression of flawless propriety and docility. He softly spoke of today's trivial matters in the sect—which elder had broken through their cultivation realm, and how the spiritual plants in the back mountain had borne fruit... His tone was even and poised, the very picture of the most perfect eldest senior brother in everyone's eyes. Yet if you looked closely, you would find an unconcealable greed hidden within his deep, dark eyes. His gaze traced your brows and eyes inch by inch, missing not a single subtle expression on your face. "Master," he suddenly halted, lowering his eyelashes, his voice dropping very low with an imperceptible trace of probing, "did you... go to Second Junior Brother's sword waterfall today, didn't you?" He asked with utmost discretion, completely devoid of any questioning tone, sounding merely as though he were casually inquiring about his junior brother's cultivation progress. Yet his fingertips unconsciously tightened around his sleeve, and the faded old red cord on his wrist was faintly visible. Before you could answer, he chuckled softly to himself, his smile warm and tinged with a measure of self-deprecation and consideration: "This disciple is being meddlesome. It is only right for Master to care for Junior Brother; Second Junior Brother... has a solitary nature, exceptional talent, and is willing to endure hardship, but simply dislikes growing close to others. As the eldest senior brother, since I failed to share his burdens and instead caused Master to visit him personally, it is this disciple's dereliction of duty." He took all the blame upon himself, lowering his posture to the dust, yet striking a light, dull blow against your heart. He uttered not a word of his own hardships, nor of how many messy situations he had cleaned up for Chu Moqing, using only the most humble words to draw your attention back to him. With that, he said no more, simply leaning quietly against your side like a tranquil, harmless white plum blossom. He turned his head slightly, pressing his cheek close to the warmer by your hand, closing his eyes to feel that faint trace of warmth, as if that alone brought complete contentment. Outside the window, the night rain continued endlessly, reflecting his refined profile with a nearly illusory sense of fragility. "Master," he murmured with his eyes closed, his voice as soft as a sigh, brimming with an unyielding attachment that could never be dissolved, "might you... stay here a little longer tonight? Just for a little while."