Sweet Like You, Rongrong's Confession

The next morning, at the first light of dawn.

Ning Rongrong woke up earlier than usual. She had barely slept all night, tossing and turning in bed, her mind replaying the two figures standing side by side under the ancient tree behind the mountain, and the dress Xiao Wu wore, shimmering with a dreamlike luster in the moonlight.

She didn't want to admit she was jealous, but she couldn't lie to herself—she was.

She wasn't jealous that Xiao Wu had received that beautiful dress.

She was jealous that Xiao Wu had dared to say those words before she could, jealous that Xiao Wu had reached that position one step ahead of her.

She liked Yi Chen. She had actually known this for a long time, but she had never dared to face it.

She always used "a disciple's admiration for her master" to whitewash her feelings, telling herself it was only because Yi Chen was strong, reliable, and kind to her.

But last night, when she saw Xiao Wu standing beside Yi Chen in that dress, their fingers interlaced, the dull ache and bitterness in her heart could no longer be masked by any excuse.

She liked him. Not the liking of a disciple for a master, but the liking of a girl for a man.

She was too late.

By the time she finished washing up, changed, and hurried to the back mountain, Xiao Wu had already arrived.

She was wearing the same dress from yesterday. The pale gold patterns on the hem flowed with a soft luster in the morning light, making her look as if she had stepped out of a painting, so beautiful that Ning Rongrong's footsteps faltered.

When Xiao Wu saw Rongrong arrive, her expression was subtle. She knew Rongrong must have seen them last night, and she knew Rongrong's feelings for Yi Chen.

But she didn't show off, nor did she avoid her; she simply greeted her as usual: "Morning."

Ning Rongrong replied, walked to her usual spot, set down the chessboard, and began to warm up. She tried to keep her expression normal, but her knuckles turned slightly white as she gripped a chess piece.

When Yi Chen arrived, he was holding a cup of tea. He glanced at Xiao Wu, then at Rongrong, who was looking down at the chessboard. His gaze lingered for a moment on the tips of Rongrong's slightly reddened ears before he set down the tea and said, "No match today. I have something to tell you both."

Xiao Wu looked up, and Ning Rongrong did the same.

Yi Chen didn't beat around the bush. He walked over to Ning Rongrong, stood still, and looked at her with calm, gentle eyes: "Rongrong, you saw what happened last night, didn't you?"

Ning Rongrong's fingers tightened slightly, then she nodded, not denying it.

"Then I have a question for you." Yi Chen's voice was low, yet it rang clearly in her ears. "Are your feelings for me the reliance of a disciple on her master, or something else?"

Ning Rongrong looked up, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were a little red, but her expression was exceptionally firm. Her voice trembled slightly, yet she did not back down: "It is something else."

Yi Chen looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I like you." When Ning Rongrong said these four words, her voice was steadier than she had expected.

"It's not the liking of a disciple for a master. It's the liking of a girl for a man. I also want to stand by your side, and I want you to put your heart into things for me. When I saw you making that dress for Xiao Wu, I felt terrible, because I realized I wanted that too—not the dress itself, but for you to treat me with that same care."

After she finished, she took a deep breath, as if a stone that had been pressing on her heart for a long time had been lifted. She didn't look away, staring straight at Yi Chen, waiting for his answer.

The morning light spilled onto her face, making her slightly reddened eyes and tightly pressed lips stand out clearly.

Yi Chen looked at her, silent for a moment, and then he smiled. It was a faint smile, tinged with tenderness and helplessness, as if he had known this day would come, just not that it would arrive so soon.

"Do you know that what you just said was even braver than when you took first place in the demonstration match?"

Ning Rongrong's eyelashes fluttered, and the moisture in her eyes threatened to spill over, but she bit her lip and fought it back with all her might.

Yi Chen reached out and gently patted the top of her head, his movements as tender as if he were soothing a wronged kitten: "I received it. Your heart, I have received it."

He withdrew his hand, stepped back half a pace, and closed his eyes. His ninth soul ring lit up behind him once more, and dark golden light converged toward his palms like a tide. Xiao Wu stood to the side, watching quietly without interrupting.

The golden light condensed, intertwined, and took shape in Yi Chen's palms.

This time, the silhouette was completely different from Xiao Wu's dress; the skirt was shorter, the hem fluffier and lighter, like a flower blooming in spring.

The colors were a soft blend of white and pale pink, with an exquisite bow tied at the neckline, ruffled sleeves, and tiny petal-shaped light spots adorning the hem.

Below the skirt, a pair of white stockings slowly took shape, the cuffs embroidered with a circle of delicate lace, paired with a pair of pearl-white low-heeled shoes.

The style of the entire outfit was pure and sweet, like a flower covered in morning dew in early summer, or a girl from next door stepping out of a fairy tale.

Ning Rongrong watched the dress take shape before her, her mouth slightly agape, and a tear finally escaped her eyes. She wiped it away quickly, but new ones welled up.

Yi Chen opened his eyes and gently held the dress out to her: "For you."

His voice was softer than usual: "You don't need to be someone else. You have your own beauty—pure, sweet, and sincere. This dress was made according to who you are, just like you: clean and bright, making anyone who sees you feel warm inside."

He paused and added, "Like Xiao Wu's, it can withstand any attack below the God King level. No matter what danger you encounter in the future, it will protect you."

Ning Rongrong looked at the dress floating before her, and her tears finally fell in earnest, streaming down her face.

She didn't reach out to take it; instead, she threw herself into Yi Chen's arms, wrapping her hands tightly around his waist and burying her face in his chest, crying like a child who had finally been comforted after being wronged.

Yi Chen stumbled back half a step from the impact, then steadied himself. He reached out to gently wrap his arms around her back, saying nothing, just letting her cry in peace.

Xiao Wu stood to the side, watching the scene with a complex expression, but she didn't step forward to pull Rongrong away, nor did she say anything bitter.

She simply pursed her lips, looked down at her own dress, then at the sweet-styled dress in front of Rongrong, and muttered softly: "It's actually quite pretty."

Ning Rongrong cried for a long time before stopping. She pulled away from Yi Chen's embrace, her eyes red and swollen like walnuts, her nose also flushed, but a bright curve tugged at the corners of her mouth.

She took the dress, held it to her chest, and looked down at the exquisite lace and ruffles. Her voice still carried a nasal tone, but it couldn't hide her joy: "I'm going to go change."

She ran into the small wooden cabin and, after a while, pushed the door open and walked out.

In the morning light, she stood at the doorway, the white hem of her skirt fluttering gently in the mountain breeze, the pale pink bow at her neckline swaying slightly.

White stockings encased her slender calves, the lace trim peeking out at the cuffs, paired with the pearl-white shoes. She looked like a girl who had stepped out of a fresh watercolor painting.

Her long hair, usually tied into a scorpion braid, cascaded down over her shoulders, the ends gently stirred by the morning breeze.

She looked at Yi Chen with a hint of nervousness, her hands unconsciously clutching the hem of her skirt, her voice softer than usual: "Does it look good?"

Yi Chen looked at her, his gaze filled with gentle appreciation, and then he spoke, his voice laced with a smile: "It does. Like the first flower of spring."

The corners of Ning Rongrong's mouth could no longer be suppressed, curving into a bright arc as she smiled until her eyes crinkled.

Xiao Wu stood to the side with her arms crossed, watching the scene, and let out a huff, though the corners of her own mouth also lifted slightly in spite of herself.

In the morning light of the back mountain, the two girls dressed in different styles of skirts—one standing at the doorway of the wooden cabin, the other beneath an ancient tree—were framed by the morning breeze brushing against their hems and hair, freezing this moment into a tranquil painting.

Yi Chen stood between them, picked up the cup of tea that had already gone half-cold, took a sip, and set it back down.

Today's training would likely have to be delayed for a while.