“Oh,” I replied softly, looking toward the direction where the second senior brother had gone. “Well, then I’ll go back and ask him.”
Qing Zi hesitated for a moment, biting his lip. “I… I may not have much longer. I need to descend the mountain.”
“You’re leaving the mountain?” I asked, startled.
“Yes,” Qing Zi said, his voice low but determined. “My time here has come to an end. My family has been waiting for me for a long time. I must return to fulfill my duty.”
I wanted to ask more, but he spoke first, as if afraid I would stop him. “The imperial envoy… he came to take me back. My family… it’s been twelve years. My parents entrusted me to the sect, but now it’s time for me to return to the capital…”
“Wait!” I blurted, unable to suppress my curiosity. “You’re from a noble family?”
Qing Zi nodded slowly. “My parents fled during a war when I was young. They entrusted me to the sect for protection. My mother died shortly after, and my father… my father entrusted me to Master and the second senior brother. They raised me alongside everyone else.”
So that’s how it was. I finally understood why Qing Zi and the second senior brother shared such a deep bond, and why the second senior brother always seemed particularly protective of him. It wasn’t just a senior-junior relationship—it was something much deeper.
Qing Zi rarely spoke of his past. To him, the mountain was just a peaceful place to grow up, and he thought little of his origins outside the sect.
“What will happen to you once you leave?” I asked carefully. Qing Zi was lost in thought, his eyes focused far away, and it was the second senior brother’s voice that answered instead. “Why are you leaving?” He had just returned from the mountain trail, his expression unreadable.
“Little brother,” he said softly, walking up to Qing Zi. “Is this truly what you want?”
The second senior brother’s voice carried both warmth and a hint of sorrow. He reached out to brush a speck of dirt from Qing Zi’s robes, his movements hesitant and uncertain. There was no mistaking the deep care in his eyes.
Over the years, Qing Zi had always been like a younger brother to the second senior brother. Despite his calm and composed demeanor, the second senior brother now seemed unusually agitated, a stark contrast to his usual self.
But Qing Zi was no longer a child, and his resolve had clearly hardened. Perhaps that was why he seemed so firm in his decision, even knowing what lay ahead.
“I’ll be fine,” Qing Zi whispered, as if trying to reassure himself more than anyone else.
“Second senior brother will send me off,” he added after a pause. “He’ll go with me to meet the envoy. You don’t need to worry.”
I watched him for a long moment, unsure what else to say. Qing Zi had made his decision, and no amount of questioning would change his mind. All I could do was follow silently as he prepared to leave.
For a moment, the scene fell silent. However, it was only for an instant, as the second senior brother’s composure shattered completely. He walked toward Qing Zi and asked in a low voice, “You’re leaving?”
Qing Zi nodded and said softly, “Returning to the capital is my duty, one that I can no longer avoid. The sect, the mountains, and all I’ve learned here have long since given me a second life.”
The second senior brother looked at me briefly but said nothing. He only glanced at Master, who stood silently, his gaze inscrutable.
“What do you think?” the second senior brother finally asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly.
Qing Zi smiled faintly. “I’ll go and talk to Master first,” he replied. He bowed his head deeply. “Thank you, senior brother, for everything.”
I watched as the second senior brother, clearly holding back his emotions, reached out to steady Qing Zi’s shoulders. “The decision is yours. Go and speak with Master,” he said in a soft voice, though his expression betrayed the heaviness of his heart.
I didn’t fully understand the emotions between Qing Zi and the second senior brother. After all, during my thousand years of existence, I had never experienced love or friendship, nor had I faced the pain of parting. To me, their connection was like a thread woven through time—something fragile yet unbreakable.
And yet, for the first time, I began to sense a faint feeling of loss. Although I couldn’t comprehend their bond, I felt a surge of gratitude toward them both.
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