Bai Yunxi sat still with her posture upright, as composed as ever, yet her eyes remained distant.
The tea before her was untouched, faint wisps of steam rising in delicate spirals and vanishing into the quiet space between them—like fading thoughts.
He took another slow sip from his own cup and allowed the silence to settle.
Her gaze lacked focus, her expression dimmed by the turmoil within. Her fingers twitched once before falling still.
She was trying to maintain her usual poise, but the conflict inside was impossible to hide.
Su Kang remained silent, knowing that some moments demanded stillness over words.
Eventually, her hand moved forward. Her fingers gently wrapped around the warm porcelain.
She raised the cup and took a small sip. The motion was quiet, restrained.
But to Su Kang, it was more than enough.
His expression softened. A subtle breath escaped his chest. Relief flickered behind his eyes, and a faint smile touched his lips.
She did not look at him, nor did she need to.
That single gesture spoke louder than anything she might have said.
They sat together as the stars quietly filled the sky. A cool breeze stirred the air, brushing across their robes with soft fingers. Bai Yunxi shifted slightly, her body preparing to rise.
Su Kang lifted his hand—not to stop her, but to offer a gentle motion inviting her to pause.
"Can't you stay a little longer?" he asked, his tone quiet and even. "You don't need to talk. Just remain here for a while."
She hesitated, her expression unreadable.
After a silent moment, she slowly settled back down. Perhaps she remembered the one-week promise she had made.
Su Kang poured another cup of tea for both of them. The quiet clink of porcelain touching porcelain was the only sound that broke the stillness.
He turned his gaze toward the sky, watching the slow drift of clouds and the distant silhouettes of mountains below the flying boat. Every now and then, he glanced at her. His eyes were thoughtful, but calm.
She said nothing for the rest of the night.
Yet she remained.
When several quiet hours had passed, she rose again and returned inside without speaking a word.
The night slipped away with that silence intact.
When morning came, golden rays of light mixed with shades of red, painting the sky and clouds in soft hues.
Su Kang stood outside the cabin, watching the world awaken.
After a moment, he stepped into her room to check on her.
He found Bai Yunxi seated cross-legged on the bed. Her posture was straight, eyes closed, breathing steady.
When she opened her eyes, they met his gaze. Her expression was calm, composed, and difficult to read.
"You're cultivating without an array plate?" Su Kang asked casually.
"There's barely any spiritual energy here. A formation would help."
Spiritual array plates and stones were commonly used in low-energy environments like this.
She gave a slight shake of her head. "It's fine. I wasn't cultivating."
He nodded slightly. "If you need anything, just let me know."
"I won't be eating," she said softly. "That's all."
He accepted her response without resistance. "Alright."
He stepped away and quietly closed the door behind him.
There was no need to force a conversation she wasn't ready to have. If he pushed too hard, she might withdraw again—perhaps even shut him out completely.
He didn't want to break her.
He only hoped to leave small cracks in her walls—and, in time, let those walls fall on their own.
That evening, he invited her to sit outside once more. He didn't press her to speak or address anything.
He only offered tea beneath the open sky.
They sat together beneath the shifting heavens. The stars had begun to shine behind the thinning clouds—distant and cold.
No words passed between them.
Su Kang looked at her now and then.
She noticed his gaze and felt its weight, but remained silent.
Her hands stayed hidden within her sleeves, fingers curled tightly as if holding back something unspoken. There was a quiet fear in her chest—something she could not yet name.
Eventually, she shifted, preparing to stand.
"Stay a little longer," Su Kang said, his voice quiet and gentle.
She paused.
Then, slowly, she sat back down.
Half an hour passed without a single word. The night continued, vast and silent, while two figures remained beneath the sky.
Then she left.
Su Kang remained seated, his eyes lifted to the vast sky above.
He let out a quiet sigh, the sound carried away by the wind. He wasn't sure if his eyesight had improved, or if this world simply lacked the pollution of his previous life—but the stars here were more vivid, more numerous.
He felt small beneath them. Insignificant in the face of the infinite cosmos. A fragile existence surrounded by stars that had burned for eons before he was even born, and would continue long after he was gone.
Just a short while ago, he and Bai Yunxi had watched this same sky together.
What had she felt, looking up at it?
"What did she feel," he wondered silently, "when she saw herself beneath this endless expanse? Was she yearning for connection, for warmth, for someone to lean on?"
"Or was I simply dragging her back into the shadows of old memories—painful suffering because of the poison in her body and regrets?"
His thoughts pressed heavily on his chest.
He had read that night carried a kind of quiet magic. That people became more honest beneath the stars.
That the night might soften their defenses, make them crave closeness, seek comfort in another's presence.
He thought it might make her reach for him, even just a little.
But nothing had changed.
He shook his head gently and lowered himself onto the deck of the flying boat, lying flat on his back.
Above him, the stars continued to shine, unbothered by the emotions of one small soul watching from below.
In two more days, they would reach Rift Valley. Time was slipping through his fingers, leaving little room for something bold or transformative. He couldn't force a major change in her heart, not in such a short span.
Still, he wanted to replace her memories of countless painful nights.
Nights once spent under the torment of poison and regret—he wished to overwrite them with calm evenings shared with him, where there was no agony, only peace.
But she had endured decades of silent suffering. It wasn't something that could be undone in a few nights, no matter how gentle or kind he was.
And then there was Li Xiao.
He couldn't say if she still held any affection for him. Their marriage had been brief, barely enough time to nurture anything real. But did she love him? Even a little?
What happened between them behind the closed doors of the Li family, he did not know.
She had become pregnant soon after the marriage. That fact alone raised questions he couldn't answer. Was it love that brought them together, or was it something else?
He could only guess. Whatever lived inside her heart remained a secret—one he couldn't uncover, nor was he in any position to ask.
The next evening, Su Kang invited her again.
"I don't want to do this," she said softly, shaking her head.
He had feared this moment, and now it arrived—without any warning, without him doing anything wrong.
"Can't you just sit with me tonight?" he asked, voice softer this time.
"You don't have to come again after this. Just sit with me for a little while."
She hesitated, eyes studying him. After a quiet moment, she gave a faint nod.
They sat together under the open sky.
After a moment, she gave a small nod.
He served the tea in silence. She accepted it and brought the cup to her lips, sipping slowly, without speaking.
As the sky darkened and stars began to bloom above them, Su Kang sensed she might leave soon.
He asked a question he had long kept buried.
"Do you still... miss Li Xiao?"
Her hand paused midair. Her gaze met his—deep, unreadable, filled with something he couldn't name.
His words had struck something inside her. He could feel it—the sudden tension in the air, the invisible storm behind her calm expression.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her gaze flickered. She looked away.
Then she stood.
Su Kang's shoulders slumped. He lowered his eyes and let out a long breath.
As she began to walk away, his voice followed her—not loud, not demanding, just a soft murmur carried by the wind.
"A twist of fate, a second chance,
To rewrite time, to join the dance.
Her gentle soul, a guiding star,
To heal the wounds, to mend the scar.
But destiny's a fickle game,
A whispered curse upon her name.
I'll wager all—my life, my soul—
To break the chains, to make her whole.
To see her smile. To reach my goal."
Her steps stopped at the door.
But she didn't look back or speak.