Ye Qing raised a hand and swept his broad brocade sleeve aside, releasing the white porcelain teacup from his fingertips.
Clink—
The clear sound rippled through the quiet room. The cup landed squarely on the wooden table, sending only a faint ring of ripples across the tea.
He slowly straightened and smoothed the slight creases in his robe. A trace of pride he could not quite suppress crept into the corners of his narrow eyes.
From that one remark by his disciple, he could already picture how splendidly she had carried herself in the Mortal Realm.
A faint smile rose unbidden to his lips. He promptly tucked it away, returning to his composed manner.
Turning his head slightly, he called toward the inner room, "Senior Brother Shi, are you still resting? Your disciple is back."
At the sound of his voice, Shi Yan, who had been resting with his eyes closed, jolted awake. The haze of sleep vanished at once.
His eyes snapped open, all weariness gone. An almost imperceptible tremor passed through his gaze.
Back?
Whoosh—
A gust of wind stirred the hem of Ye Qing's broad robe.
Shi Yan appeared an arm's length away from Ye Qing.
He stopped so abruptly that his feet halted just beyond Ye Qing's reach.
His eyes were wide, a few strands of hair lay disheveled across his forehead, and the corners of his eyes still bore traces of sleep.
If his eldest disciple caught him looking this careless and unkempt, she would circle him with another lecture about what an unreliable master he was.
Ye Qing watched his display of alarm, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly.
If an outsider saw him, they might truly think he had been worrying about his disciple.
Others might not know, but Ye Qing