Memories (12): The Argument

The door closed behind them with a soft click, shutting away the look of barely concealed amusement in Master Xuan Mingzi's eyes. Yun Lan stood beneath the corridor, squinting in the harsh afternoon sun. Behind him, his three "little shadows" followed in silence, each giving off a presence impossible to ignore.

He rubbed his brow, inwardly railing against his master: That old geezer had been watching the show so intently his eyes had nearly narrowed to slits, and he couldn't hide the curve of his mouth. But when the crucial moment came for the old man to step in and smooth things over, all he'd done was wave them away with, "All right, all right. This isn't the place for you siblings to argue. Out, all of you." He really was no help at all.

With a sigh, Yun Lan turned around and looked at the three young faces before him. Ye Shunguang had only just arrived, and was eyeing everything with cautious curiosity and dependence. Yi Jiang wore a flawless, faint smile, but her eyes were fathomless. Yi Xuan was as quiet as ever, yet her silence concealed an unspoken resolve. He suddenly felt as if he had two heads and neither knew where to turn.

He wasn't made of wood, much less an idiot. How could he not have noticed that Yi Jiang and Yi Xuan's attachment to him—along with their possessiveness—had grown increasingly obvious, surpassing the usual bonds between siblings or master and servant? The heat in their gazes, the barbs in their words, the stubbornness they let slip without meaning to—it was no longer mere gratitude or affection. At some point, their feelings had quietly "changed," taking on the awkwardness of young girls falling in love, along with an unmistakable desire to have him all to themselves. The weight of it pressed heavily on his shoulders.

I really only took them in out of kindness. They were pitiful, with nowhere to go... Yun Lan silently cried out, almost ready to throw his head back and sigh. How did it start to feel like I'd brought home two little tyrants?

The comparison might have been a little disrespectful, but it accurately captured his helpless amusement and the pressure weighing on him. They weren't a burden, yet they were even harder to deal with than one. Their feelings weren't a nuisance, yet he had even less idea how to handle them.

The afternoon sun stretched the four of their shadows across the stone paving, weaving them together. Yun Lan fell silent for a moment, his gaze passing over the three young girls' faces. At last, he spoke, his voice settling back into its usual calm as he tried to untangle the mess.

"Yi Jiang, Yi Xuan, come with me for a moment." He paused and looked at Ye Shunguang, who was watching him expectantly. His tone softened. "Xiao Guang, go find an empty room first. Take your things in and get settled. About your situation"—he gave her a reassuring look—"I'll give you an answer tomorrow."

His words clearly set Ye Shunguang apart from the tense situation for the time being. Though reluctant, she obediently nodded, picked up her small bundle of luggage, and headed toward the empty rooms, glancing back every few steps.

Yun Lan said no more and turned to leave. Yi Jiang and Yi Xuan exchanged a look, then silently followed him. The three crossed the corridor and arrived at the courtyard where Yun Lan lived. When he opened the door to his room, a familiar, fresh scent greeted him.

The room was bright and spotless. The writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone on the desk were neatly arranged, and the bedding on the bed was folded squarely. There wasn't even a speck of dust in the cracks of the window lattice. A faint, calming fragrance lingered in the incense burner; it had clearly been replenished recently. Every corner of the room spoke of meticulous care and long-standing attention.

Yun Lan paused, his gaze sweeping over the excessively tidy room. He understood. This was surely the result of Yi Jiang—or perhaps Yi Xuan as well, though that seemed unlikely—coming by regularly to take care of it herself. This unspoken effort, woven into the details of everyday life, expressed their feelings more plainly than any words could. It also made what he was about to say that much harder to bring himself to say.

I walked into the room, and Yi Jiang and Yi Xuan followed, closing the door behind them. The outside sounds faded away, and the air in the room seemed to turn still and private in an instant. Sunlight filtered through the paper windows, soft and hazy, falling across the three of us and enveloping the stirring emotions and the conversation to come in a delicate interplay of light and shadow.

The soft click of the closing door had barely faded before only Yun Lan and the white-haired sisters remained in the room. Sunlight filtered through the window lattice, illuminating every mote of dust in the air. It also lit the now-unconcealed, almost interrogative gleam in Yi Jiang's eyes.

She took a small step forward. She wasn't closing in, but her presence carried an invisible pressure. Her lips still curved in a smile, yet her voice was even softer than before—and sharper, like an ice pick wrapped in velvet.

"Brother," she said. The word sounded especially loaded now. "Are my sister and I... no longer enough for you?"

She tilted her head slightly, white hair spilling over her shoulder. Her eyes, however, pierced straight through Yun Lan, and her tone was both innocent and cruel. "Is that why you picked up another rare little 'sister'?"

"Yi Jiang!" My brows drew together as I immediately cut off her suggestive remark. My voice took on a rare sternness. "What do you mean, 'enough' or 'not enough'? You're still young. Don't learn such nonsense, and don't say things that could easily be misunderstood!"

I tried to build a dike out of her age and a stern lecture, hoping to hold back the surging feelings that had crossed a line.

At the same time, he felt another gaze settle heavily on him. Yi Xuan remained silent, standing quietly beside her sister like a cool shadow. She said nothing, only raising her golden eyes—similar to Yi Jiang's, but more lively—and looking at him. Her gaze held none of its usual liveliness or dependence. Instead, it carried a clear, silent reproach, like ice that had yet to melt in early spring. It wasn't sharp enough to hurt, but it seeped into him bit by bit, bringing a different kind of pressure.

Good grief. Yun Lan inwardly facepalmed. One was pressing him relentlessly with sharp, direct words; the other was laying on the pressure with her eyes, silently accusing him. The sisters certainly made a good team. If an ordinary man were "besieged" this way by two breathtakingly beautiful young girls, he'd probably have been captivated or left floundering.

But—not so fast! (Things wouldn't go that smoothly!)

I, Yun Lan, was a transmigrator who had witnessed the information explosion of a whole new era and understood both tropes and how to turn them on their heads. How could I let myself be cornered so easily? The more this situation looked like a sure thing, with every move carefully planned, the more it brought out the rebellious streak in me.

Affection? Attachment? Perhaps. But they couldn't just corner me like this.