The night breeze was gentle, and the sky was full of stars.
Shen Xiu sat beneath an ancient pine tree, with Liu Qingyan leaning against his shoulder. Neither of them spoke. This silence was not awkwardness, but a tacit understanding—a mutual understanding that needed no words. Moonlight filtered through the gaps between the pine needles, casting dappled shadows across their clothes like an exquisite ink-wash painting.
After an unknown amount of time, Liu Qingyan shifted slightly and raised her head from Shen Xiu's shoulder. Her eyes glimmered beneath the moonlight, and a faint smile rested on her lips.
"Shen Xiu, what do you think we'll become in the future?" she asked softly, as though afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the night.
Shen Xiu thought for a moment before saying, "No one can predict the future. Maybe I'll defeat the Dark Church, seal the Evil Clan beyond the domain, then find some uninhabited place, plant a few trees, raise a few chickens, and live a peaceful life. Or maybe I'll fail and die on the battlefield, without even leaving behind a bone."
Liu Qingyan reached out to cover his mouth and glared at him. "You're not allowed to say things like that."
Shen Xiu took her hand and gently pulled it away, his violet eyes fixed on hers. "I'm telling the truth. The path of cultivation is a struggle against heaven for one's life. No one knows what will happen tomorrow, so I never make promises lightly. Because a promise that cannot be kept hurts more than no promise at all."
Liu Qingyan fell silent for a moment, then said, "I don't need you to promise me anything. I only need you to stay alive—live well."
Shen Xiu looked at her. Within those clear eyes, he saw a feeling that