The next morning, the sky had only just begun to lighten.
Ning Rongrong got up earlier than usual. She'd barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as the scene beneath the ancient tree in the back hills replayed over and over in her mind: two figures standing side by side, and the dress Xiao Wu wore, shimmering with a dreamy glow in the moonlight.
She didn't want to admit she was jealous, but she couldn't lie to herself. She was jealous.
She wasn't jealous because Xiao Wu had gotten such a beautiful dress.
She was jealous because Xiao Wu had dared to say those words before her, jealous because Xiao Wu had reached that place before she had.
She liked Yi Chen. She'd known it for a long time; she just hadn't dared to face it.
She always dressed up her feelings as "a disciple's admiration for her master," telling herself it was only because Yi Chen was strong and reliable, and treated her so well.
But last night, when she saw Xiao Wu standing beside Yi Chen in that dress, their fingers interlaced, the dull ache and sourness in her heart could no longer be covered up with any excuse.
She liked him. Not the way a disciple liked her master, but the way a girl liked a man.
She had gotten up late.
By the time she'd washed up, changed, and hurried to the back hills, Xiao Wu was already there.
She was wearing the dress from the day before. The pale-gold patterns on its hem shimmered softly in the morning light, and she looked as though she'd stepped out of a painting. Ning Rongrong's steps faltered.
Xiao Wu saw Rongrong arrive, and her expression turned a little complicated. She knew Rongrong must have seen them last night, and she knew how Rongrong felt about Yi Chen.
But she didn't show off or avoid her. She simply greeted her as usual. "Morning."
Ning Rongrong answered, went to her usual spot, set down the board, and began warming up. She tried to keep her expression normal, but as she held the pieces, her knuckles turned faintly white.
When Yi Chen arrived, he was carrying a cup of tea. He glanced at Xiao Wu, then at Rongrong, who was looking down as she fiddled with the board. His gaze lingered for a moment on the tips of her ears, faintly red, before he set down the tea and said, "Let's skip the match today. There's something I want to talk to you both about."
Xiao Wu looked up, and so did Ning Rongrong.
Yi Chen didn't beat around the bush. He walked up to Ning Rongrong and stopped in front of her, looking at her with calm warmth. "Rongrong, you saw what happened last night, didn't you?"
Ning Rongrong's fingers tightened slightly. Then she nodded, making no attempt to deny it.
"Then let me ask you something." Yi Chen's voice wasn't loud, but it rang clearly in her ears. "Are your feelings for me a disciple's dependence on her master, or something else?"
Ning Rongrong looked up and met his gaze. Her eyes were a little red, but her expression was resolute. Her voice trembled faintly, yet she didn't back down. "Something else."
Yi Chen looked at her without speaking, waiting for her to continue.
"I like you." When Ning Rongrong said those four words, her voice was steadier than she'd expected.
"Not the way a disciple likes her master. The way a girl likes a man. I want to stand by your side, too. I want you to put your heart into things for me, too. When I saw you make that dress for Xiao Wu, it hurt. I realized I wanted that, too—not the dress, but for you to care for me with that same thoughtfulness."
After saying all that, she took a deep breath, as if she'd finally set down a heavy stone she'd been carrying in her heart for a long time. She didn't look away. She just stared straight at Yi Chen, waiting for his answer.
The morning light fell across her face, making her reddened eyes and tightly pressed lips stand out all the more clearly.
Yi Chen looked at her in silence for a moment, then smiled. It was a faint smile, tinged with tenderness and helplessness, as if he'd always known this day would come, just not that it would come so soon.
"Do you know? What you just said took more courage than winning first place in the exhibition match."
Ning Rongrong's lashes quivered. The tears in her eyes nearly spilled over, but she bit her lip and fought to hold them back.
Yi Chen reached out and gently patted the top of her head, soothing her as tenderly as he might a dejected kitten. "I hear you. I've heard what's in your heart."
He withdrew his hand, stepped back half a pace, and closed his eyes. His ninth Soul Ring lit up behind him once more, dark-golden light surging like a tide toward his palm. Xiao Wu stood quietly to one side, watching without interrupting.
The golden light gathered in Yi Chen's palm, weaving together and taking shape once more.
This time, the silhouette was completely different from Xiao Wu's dress. The skirt was shorter, its hem fluffier and lighter, like flowers blooming in spring.
Soft white and pale pink were woven together. A delicate bow adorned the neckline, the cuffs were trimmed with ruffles, and tiny, petal-shaped flecks of light dotted the skirt.
Beneath the skirt, a pair of white stockings slowly took shape. Fine lace edged their tops, and they were paired with a pair of low-cut, pearl-white shoes.
The whole outfit was pure and sweet, like a dewdrop-covered flower on a summer morning, or the girl next door stepping out of a fairy tale.
Ning Rongrong watched the dress slowly take shape before her. Her mouth fell slightly open, and at last, a tear slipped from her glistening eyes. She quickly wiped it away, but more tears welled up.
Yi Chen opened his eyes and gently held the dress out to her. "It's for you."
His voice was gentler than usual. "You don't need to become someone else. You have your own beauty: pure, sweet, and sincere. I made this dress to suit the way you are. Just like you, it's clean and bright, the kind of thing that warms your heart just to look at."
He paused, then added, "Like Xiao Wu's, it can withstand any attack below the God King level. No matter what danger you face, it'll protect you."
Ning Rongrong stared at the dress floating before her. At last, she couldn't hold back her tears, and they fell in torrents.
She didn't reach out to take it. Instead, she threw herself straight into Yi Chen's arms, wrapped both arms tightly around his waist, buried her face against his chest, and sobbed like a child who'd been hurt and finally comforted.
The force of her collision made Yi Chen stagger half a step backward, but he steadied himself and gently put an arm around her back. He said nothing, quietly letting her cry.
Xiao Wu stood to one side, watching them with a complicated expression. But she didn't step forward to pull Rongrong away or make a snide remark.
She only pursed her lips, looked down at the dress she was wearing, then at the sweet, fresh-looking dress in front of Rongrong, and muttered, "It's pretty, too."
Ning Rongrong cried for a long time before she finally stopped. She stepped back from Yi Chen, her eyes swollen like walnuts and her nose red, but her lips curved into a bright smile.
She took the dress and hugged it to her chest. Looking down at the delicate trim and lace, she spoke in a nasal voice that couldn't hide her joy. "I'm going to change."
She ran into the wooden hut. A little while later, she opened the door and came out.
In the morning light, she stood at the hut's entrance, the white hem of her skirt fluttering gently in the mountain breeze and the pale-pink bow at her neckline swaying softly.
White stockings hugged her slender calves, their lace trim just visible at the tops. Paired with pearl-white shoes, they made her look like a girl who'd stepped out of a fresh watercolor painting.
Her long hair, usually tied into a scorpion braid, fell loose over her shoulders, its ends lifted gently by the morning breeze.
She looked at Yi Chen nervously, unconsciously clutching the edges of her skirt. Her voice was a little softer than usual. "Does it look good?"
Yi Chen looked at her with warm admiration, then replied with a smile in his voice, "It looks lovely. Like the first flower of spring."
Ning Rongrong could no longer hold back her smile. Her lips curved brightly, and her eyes crinkled.
Xiao Wu stood nearby with her arms folded. She gave a snort, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, too.
In the morning light of the back hills, two girls in dresses of different styles stood beneath the ancient tree and at the entrance to the wooden hut. The morning breeze stirred their skirts and hair, turning the moment into a quiet painting.
Yi Chen stood between them. He picked up the cup of tea, now half cold, took a sip, and set it down.
Today's training would probably have to wait a little while.