Chapter three

It was a new day.

The sky was dark, as if it knew what was happening.

The gray of the clouds reflected the sorrow—they held back the tears that refused to fall.

Sitting in the gazebo, Xiu Zhao and Chen stared at their reflections in the once-warm tea.

The fragrance, once filled with a soft note of joy, had long vanished with the cold wind.

The silence that inhabited the gazebo drowned the air in the lonely waters of the Dead Sea.

“Xiu Zhao” Chen called softly, stopping his idle play with the sweets.

Xiu Zhao, his head bowed over the teacup, looked up. Even though he didn’t want to, he looked—and there it was…

That light which, even on the cloudiest days, shone as if there were no tomorrow.

Xiu Zhao looked into eyes that spoke more than words ever could.

He looked again at his reflection in the cold tea, sinking into thought.

Then he raised his head, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Let’s go.”

Chen’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

He stood and took the hand Xiu Zhao offered.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice bright with curiosity.

“To a special place.”

Xiu Zhao intertwined his arm with Chen’s, holding his hand firmly.

…

The world around them was filled with abandoned houses—some half-collapsed, some already gone, others reduced to mere patches of land.

Chen looked around the empty street, colorless and lifeless, his face filled with confusion.

“What are we doing here?”

Instead of answering, Xiu Zhao pulled Chen toward a field at the end of the street.

He opened the gate, which fell apart in the process.

Chen’s eyes widened in awe.

The garden was alive with color—roses of every hue, tulips, little dandelions, black dahlias, and wildflowers of every kind.

The mixture of blooms gave the place a passionate air that left Chen speechless.

While he was lost in admiration, he didn’t notice the warmth that had disappeared from his arm.

Xiu Zhao was near the roses, picking one of each color. He carefully removed the thorns and gathered them into a crown.

Satisfied with his work, he ran toward Chen, smiling.

Chen startled slightly at his sudden rush, but smiled as he saw the crown in Xiu Zhao’s hands.

The wind played with his hair, and petals swirled around them, as if celebrating that small, shining moment.

“It’s for you” said Xiu Zhao, breathless, holding out the crown.

His eyes, cold as winter, carried a rare light—one that seemed to burn only for Chen.

Chen stayed silent for a moment.

His heart beat quickly; he couldn’t tell if it was because of the gesture or the gaze that pierced him like light entering a dark room.

With trembling hands, he placed the crown on his head.

“Now it’s perfect” murmured Xiu Zhao, looking away.

“Why?” asked Chen, smiling faintly.

“Because even among flowers, you’re still the one who shines the most.”

The silence returned, but now it was gentle—a comfortable quiet, as if words had finally found rest.

Xiu Zhao sat down on the grass, watching the petals dance away.

Chen sat beside him, leaning his shoulder against his.

“Xiu Zhao…” he whispered.

“Hm?”

“Thank you for showing me something beautiful… when the world feels so ugly.”

Xiu Zhao was quiet for a long time before replying softly.

“The world isn’t ugly, Chen. It’s people who are.

But sometimes, one person is enough to change the way we see it.”

Chen turned to look at him, and for a moment, time stopped—the gray sky, the flowers, the cold wind, everything fell silent.

There was only them—two boys trying to find warmth in a world that had forgotten them.

…

The wind grew stronger, carrying the petals away.

Their peaceful silence was broken by a faint, familiar chime—one that made Xiu Zhao’s heart freeze.

He looked at his light, the one smiling back at him.

“Chen,” he called, voice trembling slightly.

“My father once told me that the heart must be guarded, protected…

But I… I don’t know how to do that.”

He extended his hand, and a small fragment of light—warm, alive—appeared in his palm.

“Take care of it.”

He held out a silver necklace, adorned with small red stones and a scarlet gem at its center.

“This is…” Chen’s voice trembled as he took the necklace, feeling its inexplicable warmth.

“It is.”

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“I don’t want you to forget me, just as I don’t want to forget you.

It might sound foolish, but you’re someone special to me—and this is just a small piece of what we are.”

The love in Xiu Zhao’s voice made Chen’s heart pound.

He stepped closer and embraced him tightly.

“I promise to take good care of it.

And when we meet again, we’ll be together forever.”

Xiu Zhao returned the embrace with equal fervor.

They held each other for a long time until an exasperated cough interrupted them.

He didn’t care about the intrusion.

He took Chen’s hand—the same one holding his heart—gently but firmly.

“Let me help you.”

He picked up the necklace and fastened it around Chen’s neck.

Then he stood and offered his hand.

“Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, they left the little paradise, followed by the servant who watched them with contempt.

The sight of the elegant carriage made Xiu Zhao tighten his grip on Chen’s hand.

He helped Chen climb aboard.

Chen looked back at him one last time, a radiant smile lighting his face.

The carriage began to move before he was ready to leave.

“See you soon, Xiu Zhao!” he called out the window, waving cheerfully.

“See you soon,” Xiu Zhao whispered, his words fading with the wind.

He stood there, watching the carriage disappear like dust.

Yet his smile never faded.

Joyful, he returned to the garden, gathering a few tulips and a wilted sunflower.

He went back to the corner of the roses, plucking the same colors he had used for Chen’s crown—blue, white, yellow, and red.

Colors that represented the boy with hair like gold.

“It was worth using my mana to make these roses” he whispered, caressing the blue and yellow petals.

The wind rose again, making the petals dance around him.

Xiu Zhao watched them move, as if within them he could see Chen’s smile.

The world felt too silent now.

Without Chen’s laughter, even the colors seemed to fade.

He stroked the petals in his hand.

“How long…” he murmured, looking up at the gray sky.

“How long until I can see you again?”

The words were carried away by the wind.

He looked toward the empty space where Chen had stood minutes before and felt his heart beating in echo—not within his chest, but far away, with Chen.

An invisible bond, fragile, yet real.

He touched the place where his heart had once been, smiling softly, knowing it was safe now.

…

Cherry blossom leaves floated clumsily through the air, something Xiu Zhao tried not to notice.

The walk back home was silent—something rare for him.

The cold breeze brushed against his face, carrying a scent he knew too well.

He stopped, breathing deeply, trying to place it.

Each breath made it stronger, more real.

His pace quickened.

With every step, the scent grew heavier, more suffocating.

When he reached the Yu residence, he already knew.

That smell—the one he could never forget, no matter how hard he tried.

He opened the door.

And then—

his body froze.

His eyes widened.

A chill crawled up his spine.

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