DANIEL

They stayed two more days.

They probably should of left earlier, they both had things to do.

But, somehow, it didn’t feel wrong to stay.

Vivian and Daniel—still separate beds, still sharp edges—but the awkwardness had faded. Their silence was less brittle. Their interactions less guarded. No fights. No speeches. Just a kind of… coexistence.

At night, the guest suite was quiet. One bed near the window. One against the wall. They never spoke after lights out, but sometimes, Daniel heard her breathing shift—slow, steady, safe.

That felt like something.

Vivian didn’t vanish in the mornings like she usually did. She took tea with his mother. Walked with the twins in the garden. She didn’t laugh—but she smiled more. Enough that Margaret Zhou began making plans she never said aloud.

By the second evening, Emily and Elise had braided tiny spirit charms into Vivian’s hair and called it a “Li-Zhou unity ritual.” Vivian hadn’t stopped them. She’d even let them adjust the placement. Twice.

Ryan asked for feedback on his training stances, and Vivian offered it without sarcasm. She corrected his heel pivot, realigned his grip, and nodded once when he got it right.

“Good,” she said. “Do it again.”

And he did. Three times. Without stopping.

Margaret insisted on teaching her the family dumpling fold—and Vivian didn’t say no. Her folds weren’t perfect, but she memorized the pattern. And when Margaret wasn’t looking, she redid the worst one.

By the time the departure carriage arrived, the farewell felt like a quiet festival.

The twins ambushed her first.

Emily hugged her so hard she nearly dropped her travel satchel. Elise slipped a folded talisman into her palm and whispered:

“It’s good luck for exams, or enemies. Whichever shows up first.”

Vivian blinked. Then tucked it into her sleeve without a word.

Margaret waited at the foot of the steps.

When Vivian stepped forward, she pulled her in. A real embrace. Both arms. No hesitation.

“I expect to see you at Winter Bloom,” she said.

“If I’m not in seclusion.”

Margaret smiled faintly.

“Then I’ll wait for spring.”

Ryan was next.

He stood a little straighter than usual, hands tucked behind his back like a soldier trying not to fidget. When she turned toward him, he saluted.

It was either ironic or playfully.

It was earnest.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

Vivian looked at him for a moment, then reached forward and flicked the edge of his jacket.

“Don’t thank me until I meet Lily.”

Ryan blinked.

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“You… want to?”

“I want to make sure she deserves you,” Vivian said. “And that she’s smart enough to see what she has.”

Ryan flushed a deep crimson.

“Also,” she added lightly, “I want to hear her version of the garden incident. In detail.”

Daniel, standing nearby, grinned.

“You’re enjoying this.”

Vivian didn’t answer.

She turned back toward the carriage. One last glance at the Zhou family. Then to Daniel.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just held the door open.

She paused. Not inside yet. Not gone.

Claire and Caleb were already gone by then. Left early. Before breakfast. Before anyone could ask questions. Claire hadn’t left a note. Caleb had. One line. Neatly scrawled:

Family obligations call. Thanks for the tea.

No one said much about it.

The carriage swayed gently beneath them as it cut through the veil of evening clouds. Outside, the sky faded from gold to gray—the kind of soft, hazy dusk that made the world feel half-remembered.

Inside, the silence was warm. A bit heavy, but it wasn't overbearing either.

It was quiet--peaceful.

Vivian sat across from him, legs crossed, arms resting loosely in her lap. Light filtered through the charm-glass window, catching the edge of her braid. The jade pins shimmered like starlight.

They hadn’t spoken since leaving the Zhou estate.

But it didn't feel like she was avoiding him just a silient contentment,

Daniel leaned back into the cushions and glanced sideways.

“I think my mother’s going to replace one of the twins with you,” he said.

Vivian’s lips curved.

“Is that so?”

“She kept offering you seconds. That’s basically an adoption ceremony in the Zhou household.”

“I accepted,” she said lightly.

“Bold move.”

“I was hungry.”

He chuckled under his breath.

“You do realize you’ve reset all their expectations, right? Ryan’s going to ask for sword lessons. The twins are probably designing your family crest into next year’s festival banners.”

“They wouldn’t be the first.”

Silence again—but easier now. The kind that exists between people who no longer need to pretend they don’t care.

Then she turned to the window, voice quieter.

“What will you be doing while I’m away?”

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

“Away?”

“I’m leaving in the morning,” she said. “Lotus Peak. Sword seclusion. Six months, maybe longer.”

He blinked.

“So that’s it? One perfect weekend and a silent exit?”

She didn’t smile.

“My blade rhythms are off. My technique’s too sharp. Not clean. I need clarity.”

He studied her for a long moment.

“Clarity,” he echoed. “That why you haven’t mentioned him?”

Vivian’s eyes flicked toward him, but she didn’t answer as there wasn't a need. She didn't stammer a defense or denial. She simply watched him with those voliet eyes of hers .

Daniel understood her thoughts. He wasn't sure how. he just did.

She wasn’t running from Jin Xun.

She was trying to comprehend the parts of herself that still looked for him.

“Alright,” Daniel said, exhaling. “Then I guess I won’t see you until the Imperial Martial Tournament.”

“Probably not.”

“Unless you break seclusion early.”

“I don’t break things early.”

“No,” he said. “You don’t.”

He looked down at the silk-wrapped box she’d thrown him earlier. Still unopened. Sitting in his lap like a question.

Vivian spoke before he could.

“You?”

He glanced up.

“Me?”

“What will you be doing?”

He hesitated. Then answered, softer than before.

“Working on something. A project. Something big, I think. If I’m right, it’ll change how people understand martial inheritance.”

She tilted her head.

“Change how?”

“Structure,” he said. “Foundation mapping. Technique synchronization across variable bloodlines. A framework for making cultivation empirical.”

She didn’t blink.

“You’re trying to build something repeatable.”

He nodded.

“Something reliable. Something that doesn’t rely on luck, or family legacy, or good weather and waterfall enlightenment.”

Vivian’s expression didn’t change.

But she listened.

“You think it’ll work?” she asked.

“I think it has to,” he said.

Another silence passed.

Then she added, more quietly:

“You’ll be there? At the tournament?”

Daniel met her gaze.

“I will.”

“I don’t want the Li name embarrassed.”

He smiled faintly.

“That would be a first.”

Vivian’s lips twitched—but it wasn’t quite a smile.

She turned her face back toward the window.

And that’s when he saw it.

Sadness. or the shadow of it. Something small but complex and real, slipped into her expression like a heartbeat gone wrong.

She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t frowning.

But her jaw tightened.

Her breath hitched—once.

Daniel kept his mouth shut. Didn’t reach out because he couldn't fix it. Didn’t ruin it by pretending he could .

When the carriage slowed, she stood.

He didn’t follow right away, but slowly walked after her until they returned to their suit. She headed to her private area.

At the door, she paused.

She watched him and he her. She gave him a small smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Goodnight, Ethan.”

He returned the gesture.

“Goodnight, Vivian.”

Then she stepped down into the light of the estate, and the door clicked closed behind her.

Daniel sat back.

And for once, he wasn’t sure if he wanted the quiet.