(1) A Thousand Years of Cultivation

"Anu! Anu!" As the barrier dissolved, Anu's form came into view. Ziyuan called her name softly, unable to hide the worry and urgency in his voice. He lifted her unconscious body from the ground and checked her breath, his heart sinking at what he found. Changxiu and Xing'er rushed over as well.

　　"Anu! Anu!" Seeing Anu so faint of breath, on the very edge of life, Xing'er's heart clenched with fear.

　　From a distance, Changxiu noticed a jade pendant lying discarded off to the side—and how well he recognized that pendant! Ever since he had come to serve Ziyuan, this pendant had never once left his person; it had become as inseparable from him as a scale from its balance beam. Some time ago, right after Ziyuan returned to the Celestial Court from the Mist Forest, the pendant had suddenly disappeared, and as a subordinate, Changxiu hadn't dared to ask about it, keeping his questions locked away in his own mind. Even the Crown Princess had come to inquire after it, and all he could tell her was that he didn't know. He'd never imagined he would find it here, of all places, at a moment like this. Turning the whole matter over in his mind, carefully tracing the thread of events, and considering Ziyuan's behavior today, a realization struck him: could it be that His Highness had feelings for Princess Anu, and had given her his personal pendant as a token?

　　The conclusion left Changxiu stunned for a moment—it seemed utterly unbelievable. When had His Highness ever shown affection for anyone? Not even the Princess Consort herself had ever won her way into His Highness's heart—others might not know it clearly, but he had seen it plainly enough with his own eyes. As a servant, of course, it was not his place to pry into His Highness's private affairs, though he understood the truth of it well enough in his own mind. Her Highness, blessed by fortune to have been married to the Crown Prince by the Celestial Sovereign's own decree, had never once understood his temperament or his preferences, let alone what lay in his heart. Strictly speaking, the two of them were as different in nature as could be, and yet it was Her Highness's own deep, unwavering devotion to the Crown Prince that had led her family elders to petition the Celestial Sovereign for the marriage in the first place…

　　He had only stood there stunned a moment when Xing'er's urgent voice pulled him back to the present.

　　"Might I ask, Your Highness—how is Anu? Should we hurry back to the Mist Forest to find Xiaoyi to treat her?"

　　"I fear it may already be too late. Anu's soul has already begun to scatter." As Ziyuan spoke, he settled himself on the ground, cradling Anu—his left arm holding her close, his right hand summoning the Dragon-Rider Sword to hover above the two of them, revealing its Taiji sword-spirit form.

　　"Your Highness, you mustn't." Seeing this, Changxiu was thoroughly alarmed—this was no small matter. Ziyuan meant to force his own cultivation into Anu to stabilize her scattering soul, but transferring one's cultivation in this way was tremendously draining to oneself. As a subordinate, how could he simply stand by while the noble Crown Prince of the Celestial Clan put his own safety at such risk?

　　"The matter is urgent, and a life is at stake—there's no other way at present. To spend a little cultivation costs me nothing," Ziyuan said, his expression calm and composed.

　　"Your Highness's body is precious beyond measure—you mustn't take such a risk. Let Changxiu do it instead," Changxiu said, cupping his fists and bowing respectfully.

　　A flash of displeasure crossed Ziyuan's face, as though something had struck a nerve.

　　"Your life is a life too. How much strain could your cultivation possibly withstand?" He shot Changxiu an irritated glance, then added, "You'd do better standing guard with Miss Xing'er. I have no attention to spare for anything else right now—our safety depends on the two of you."

　　Seeing how firm and unyielding Ziyuan's resolve was, Changxiu, though troubled, had no choice but to obey. He knew Ziyuan's temperament well; though the two of them were nominally master and servant, Ziyuan had never once treated him as lesser. It would be more accurate to say that rather than serving Ziyuan, he simply kept him company, running the occasional errand on his behalf. With him there, Ziyuan had someone to talk to; without him, Ziyuan would surely be lonelier still. To Ziyuan, he was a confidant as much as a brother. And between confidants, between brothers, what room was there for distinctions of noble and lowly?

　　With a nearly inaudible sigh, Changxiu reluctantly retreated a short distance, keeping watch all the while.

　　If only his own cultivation were not so far beneath His Highness's—perhaps then His Highness might have entrusted this task to him after all.

　　But as he studied Ziyuan's solemn, composed face, he caught, faint and fleeting, a strange tenderness glimmering in his eyes—a warmth directed entirely, intently, at the person cradled in his arms.

　　Changxiu froze again, as though he had grasped something.

　　Perhaps even if his cultivation were far greater, His Highness would never have entrusted this task to anyone else.

　　He knew Ziyuan too well. That look in his eyes—he had never seen it before. Did that not confirm exactly what he had just been thinking?

　　The night deepened, the moon hanging bright and clear, its silvery light mingling with the tenderness brimming in Ziyuan's eyes, falling together over Anu's already nearly lifeless form. Together with Ziyuan's rich, deeply cultivated power, life began flowing back into her—the deathly pallor of her face slowly giving way to a flush of color, until at last her eyes fluttered open.

　　"Zi… yuan…?" The instant her eyes opened, the sight of Ziyuan transferring his cultivation to her filled her vision. Still hazy with confusion, Anu looked utterly bewildered.

　　"You were trapped in an underworld formation and very nearly lost your life. Fortunately, I gave you that jade pendant some time ago, and it truly proved its worth in a moment of crisis." Seeing Anu stir awake, Ziyuan let out a soft breath of relief, withdrew the Dragon-Rider Sword, and spoke to her gently.

　　Ziyuan's explanation skirted lightly over the truth, and Anu, still muddled, didn't fully grasp what had happened—but she suddenly realized with a start that she was lying in Ziyuan's arms, and, mortified, tried to sit up at once. Her whole body, however, felt as though it belonged to someone else, weak and boneless, and she sank right back down into Ziyuan's embrace, her face flushing red with no idea how to compose herself.

　　The last time, though she'd known she'd been carried back to the Mist Forest by Ziyuan after fainting, she'd had no awareness of it at the time and so felt no embarrassment. But now, curled here in his arms with full awareness—apart from Xiaoyi and her own father and brothers, when had any other man ever held her like this?

　　"You scoundrel…" Flustered and at a loss, Anu tried to pull away, but with no strength left in her body, all she could manage was a weak, muttered curse.

　　"Don't be angry with me, Anu. I am not the sort of man to take liberties—circumstances demanded urgent action, and your life hung in the balance, so I had no choice but to be forward. I hope you can forgive the offense."

　　"You…"

　　Anu was about to say something more when Changxiu cut her off.

　　"Your Highness the Princess, don't bite the hand that feeds you and mistake good intentions for ill—His Highness poured who knows how much of his own cultivation into you just to bring you back from the brink of death, and now you're scolding him for it?" Changxiu hurried over, anxiously studying Ziyuan's expression, uncertain of his condition.

　　"No one asked you to speak." Ziyuan's expression darkened, though whether from displeasure at Changxiu's words or from some physical discomfort was hard to say.

　　Hearing Changxiu's rebuke, Anu finally came to her senses. She glanced over at Xing'er, who gave her a small nod, and then noticed the shadow across Ziyuan's face. Setting her embarrassment aside, she turned to him urgently. "Are you all right? I'm sorry—I spoke without thinking."

　　"It's nothing, I'm fine." Ziyuan gave Anu a gentle smile, though his brow furrowed ever so slightly—had she not been so close to him, she might never have noticed such a subtle shift in expression. It was clearly the toll of transferring his cultivation, and though Ziyuan tried to hide it, the faintest trace still showed through in the crease of his brow.

　　"A mere thousand years of cultivation—I can still bear that much. What matters is that you're awake now." Even with his body ill at ease, Ziyuan's tone remained as gentle as ever.

　　"Ziyuan…" Hearing this, Anu felt a pang of guilt, unsure of what to say.

　　"It's fine! Saving a life earns merit beyond measure—don't dwell on it. You're still weak, so don't talk anymore. I'll take you back to the Mist Forest." With that, Ziyuan lifted a hand and cast a spell; the jade pendant lying on the ground nearby rose into the air and settled neatly at Anu's waist.

　　"Let's go." Ziyuan rose to his feet, cradling her, and strode forward.

　　"Could you… not call Xiaoyi here? I… I already feel much better." Held in Ziyuan's arms, Anu wanted to say something more, but felt her ears burning, the words tangling on her tongue.

　　"Xiaoyi… hasn't yet fully achieved his human form. Every time he forces himself into human shape for my sake… it delays how long it takes for him to… to achieve it permanently, by that much longer. I'm… a little drained, but rest will… set it right. Don't… don't trouble him."

　　Anu forced the words out with difficulty, only to meet Ziyuan's tender gaze—a face carved as though from the finest jade, and yet utterly free of any powdered artifice, noble and refined all at once, leaving her nowhere to hide. She could only bury her face against his chest, unwilling to look, so as not to lose her composure entirely.

　　"All right." Ziyuan's clear, unhurried voice reached her ears, and Anu no longer dared to look up at his face at all. That kind of beauty pressed too close, leaving her utterly at a loss—she had seen him several times before and known well enough that his looks were beyond ordinary, and yet only today had she found herself gazing at him so intently, with such singular focus. If she'd had a mortal's heart, surely it would have been pounding wildly by now. A strange, unfamiliar feeling began to take root within her, faint and quiet, lingering long. A thousand years of cultivation, given to her without the slightest hesitation; his own discomfort borne in silence, all the while escorting her safely home to the Mist Forest. Such bearing, such a heart, such devotion—to say she wasn't moved by it would be a lie. And so she could only bury her face in the broad expanse of his chest, breathing in the faint natural fragrance that clung to him, feeling the steady, unhurried rhythm of his steps as he carried her, every stride composed and graceful.