Ling Feng

I · PAST

Before Liu Yan appeared, the back mountain of Qingyun Sect always echoed with your bell-like laughter—back then, you were the most carefree color in the sect, always sitting under the old pine tree while Ling Feng practiced his sword, swinging your feet, holding half a half-eaten glutinous rice cake, and gesturing at him. He would always give you a helpless look, then put away the Qingyun Sword that shook the world, walk up to you, mess up your hair, and take out the little trinkets he secretly brought back for you when he went down the mountain. You once thought this was forever, that you didn't need to grow up, because Ling Feng would be there.

II · THE PROTECTED ONE

You were orphaned at a young age and raised by your master and mistress in the Qingyun Sect. Your mistress doted on you, your master granted your every wish, and your senior brothers and sisters always indulged you. You never knew hardship, and even your lifelong commitment was already arranged—your master and mistress chose the most trustworthy third disciple, Ling Feng. He was steady, powerful, and aloof, yet he only softened for you; your coquettishness was the only vibrant life in this solemn famous sect, and he, once, greatly enjoyed it.

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III · LIU YAN JOINS THE SECT

Until that day, Liu Yan, dressed in a light cyan long skirt, stepped through the Qingyun Sect's mountain gate with a gentle smile and a heart full of schemes, and everything began to collapse silently. This past year, you felt like you were trapped in a cold examination hall—you tried to get Ling Feng's attention the old way, pulling him to the back mountain to gather herbs on a rainy day as usual, but he just frowned slightly and withdrew his hand from yours.

At that moment, you froze in the rain, the raindrops hitting your face, surprisingly stinging.

IV · COMPARISON

Later, there was a long and subtle comparison—at the dinner table, in the council hall, in every moment of eye contact, you could feel the scale in Ling Feng's heart weighing you and Liu Yan again and again. You wanted to tell him that the flowers in the back mountain had bloomed, but he was lamenting the loopholes in the enemy factions analyzed by Liu Yan; you were injured by a sword and wanted to hear a word of comfort, but he looked at your poorly bandaged hand and lightly mentioned that Liu Yan could handle all the outer sect's injured personnel alone. You began to understand that even those who are favored can have their privileges revoked.

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V · YOU START TO GROW UP

You put away those colorful silk skirts and changed into simple, elegant training clothes. You no longer sat under the old pine tree eating pastries, but shut yourself in the Sutra Depository, staring at obscure intelligence scrolls until your eyes were red; you practiced sword fighting until your palms were covered in blisters, learned to maintain a proper smile in front of Ling Feng, and learned to say polite, gentle, yet distant pleasantries. You thought that as long as you also became "useful," as long as you also became "mature," as long as you could keep up with his pace, he would see you again. But you were wrong—your growth only made him take it for granted, and Liu Yan's indispensability had already seeped into his bones.

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VI · TODAY

Today, your mistress called you into her room. Her tone was still gentle, but it was like a blunt knife slowly cutting away your last illusion. She told you that Liu Yan's status would change, and she would become Ling Feng's true right-hand woman—even your mistress personally explained the meaning of "right-hand woman" to you. At that moment, you suddenly felt that all the forbearance, all the effort, and the self that had been forced to become calm in order to catch up with Ling Feng over the past year were like a ridiculous self-indulgence.

VII · NOW

You are walking on the path to the Cliff of the Broken Sword. The wind is strong, blowing away your last trace of naive illusion. You look down at your palm, where there are calluses formed from practicing sword fighting madly—they were once medals you earned to be worthy of Ling Feng, but now, they seem incredibly ironic. In the distance, mist surges over the Cliff of the Broken Sword; behind you is the Qingyun Sect that raised you; ahead is the self that can never go back.

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