Memories (12) Argument

The door closed behind him with a soft, crisp click, sealing away the gaze of his master, Xuan Mingzi, which had been faintly tinged with the amusement of a spectator. Yun Lan stood under the veranda, the afternoon sun a bit dazzling. Behind him, three "little tails" followed quietly, yet each radiated a presence that was impossible to ignore.

He rubbed his brow, his heart churning with "accusations" against his master: that old codger had been squinting his eyes in delight as if watching a play, the curve of his mouth impossible to suppress. Yet, at the critical moment when he needed the old man to step in and smooth things over, he simply flicked his sleeves and chased them away with a "Alright, alright, this isn't the place for you siblings to bicker, all of you get out." He was truly not to be relied upon in the slightest.

Sighing, Yun Lan turned around to face the three young faces before him—Ye Shunguang was a newcomer, carrying a sense of cautious observation and reliance; Yi Jiang wore an impeccable, faint smile, though her eyes were bottomless; Yi Xuan was as quiet as ever, yet that silence hid a wordless persistence. He suddenly felt a splitting headache.

He was no blockhead, nor was he a fool. How could he fail to notice the increasingly obvious attachment and possessiveness Yi Jiang and Yi Xuan held for him, which transcended the bounds of ordinary siblings or even master and servant? The heat in their gazes, the sharp barbs in their words, and the unintentional stubbornness they revealed were no longer simple gratitude or closeness. This affection had, at some point, quietly "spoiled," carrying the raw, budding greenness of a young girl's first love and an unquestionable sense of exclusivity, pressing heavily upon his shoulders.

"I really was just being kind back then, seeing them so pitiful and helpless, that's why I took them in..." Yun Lan shouted silently in his heart, almost wanting to look up and sigh at the sky, "How does it feel now... like I've brought home two ancestors?"

This metaphor might be a bit disrespectful, but it accurately expressed his current state of being unable to laugh or cry, coupled with a subtle sense of pressure. They were not burdens, yet they were harder for him to handle than any burden; their affection was not trouble, yet it left him more at a loss for how to properly place it than any trouble.

The sunlight stretched the four people's shadows, weaving them together on the stone floor. Yun Lan remained silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the three, before he finally spoke, his voice returning to its usual steadiness as he attempted to untangle this mess:

"Yi Jiang, Yi Xuan, you two come with me for a moment." He paused, looking at Ye Shunguang, who was gazing at him expectantly, his tone softening slightly, "Xiao Guang, you... go find an empty room first, move your luggage in, and get settled. As for your situation," he gave her a reassuring look, "I will definitely give you an answer tomorrow."

These words clearly isolated Ye Shunguang from the current triangular standoff. Though somewhat reluctant, Ye Shunguang nodded obediently, picked up her small bundle of luggage, and walked toward the empty rooms, looking back every few steps.

Yun Lan said no more and turned to leave. Yi Jiang and Yi Xuan exchanged a glance and followed in silence. The three crossed the corridor and arrived at the private courtyard where Yun Lan resided. As he pushed open the door to his room, a familiar, refreshing scent wafted toward him.

The room was bright and clean, without a speck of dust. The brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone on the desk were arranged neatly, the bedding on the bed was folded squarely, and not even the gaps in the window frames showed a trace of grime. The lingering, faint scent of calming incense in the burner had clearly been replaced recently. Every corner of the room revealed meticulous and long-term care.

Yun Lan's footsteps faltered slightly. As his gaze swept over the overly tidy room, he understood. This was undoubtedly the result of Yi Jiang (and perhaps Yi Xuan, though less likely) frequently coming over to tidy up personally. This silent devotion, soaked into the details of daily life, spoke of their feelings more plainly than any words, adding a weight to what he was about to say that made it even harder to voice.

I walked into the room, and Yi Jiang and Yi Xuan followed, closing the door behind them. With the outside noise cut off, the air in the room seemed to become stagnant and intimate. Sunlight filtered through the window paper, turning soft and hazy, falling upon the three of them and shrouding those surging emotions and the impending conversation in a subtle play of light and shadow.

The soft sound of the door closing had not yet fully dissipated when only Yun Lan and the white-haired sisters remained in the room. Sunlight shone through the window lattice, illuminating the tiny specks of dust in the air and highlighting the no-longer-concealed, almost interrogative light in Yi Jiang's eyes.

She took a small step forward—not a forced advance, yet carrying an invisible pressure. Her lips still held a smile, but her voice was softer and sharper than before, like an ice pick wrapped in velvet:

"Brother," she called out, the title sounding particularly meaningful at this moment, "are my sister and I... no longer enough to satisfy you?"

She tilted her head slightly, her white hair cascading over her shoulders, yet her eyes pierced straight at Yun Lan, her tone both innocent and cruel: "Is that why you went and picked up another 'little sister'?"

"Yi Jiang!" I frowned, immediately interrupting her words, which were prone to wild speculation, my voice carrying a rare sternness, "What satisfy or not satisfy? You are still young, don't learn such messy talk, and you are not allowed to say things that are easily misunderstood!"

I tried to build a dam with age and admonition to hold back the surging, boundary-crossing emotions.

At the same time, he felt another gaze landing heavily upon him. Yi Xuan remained silent throughout, standing quietly at her sister's side like a cold, clear shadow. She did not speak, merely lifting those golden eyes—similar to Yi Jiang's but more vibrant—and watching him quietly. There was no longer the usual liveliness and reliance in that gaze; in its place was a clear, silent resentment, like the unmelted frost of early spring—not piercing, yet seeping into his skin bit by bit, bringing a different dimension of pressure.

Good grief. Yun Lan mentally covered his face. One was pressing step-by-step with language, sharp and blunt; the other was applying heavy pressure with her eyes, a silent accusation. These two sisters were certainly well-coordinated. If it were anyone else, being "besieged" in such a way by two girls of such peerless beauty, they would likely have been shaken or at a complete loss.

But—sou wa donya ga orosani! (Things won't go that smoothly!)

I, Yun Lan, a transmigrator soul who has witnessed the information explosion era and knows all the tropes and counter-tropes, how could I be manipulated so easily? The more I face this seemingly "guaranteed win," calculated situation, the more the rebellious streak in my bones is ignited.

Affection? Attachment? Perhaps. But being "forced into a corner" like this? Not a chance.