LUO FAN
— ✦ —
It was our last night in the village. As Lan Feng prepared for bed, I busied myself cleaning the house, ensuring we left it as tidy as when we arrived. The villagers had been so kind and generous that I wanted to show my gratitude in every small way possible. I scrubbed the utensils we'd used, folded the blankets neatly, and swept every corner of the small house.
By the time I finished, the moon was high, and the house was enveloped in a comfortable silence. I approached the bed, expecting Lan Feng to already be fast asleep. Instead, I found him lying down with his eyes wide open, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.
"Why aren't you sleeping yet?" I asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him.
He turned his head to look at me, a wistful sigh escaping his lips. "Gege, I'm going to miss this place."
I smiled faintly at his words. The village had been more than just a shelter—it had become a haven. A rare bubble of peace amidst the chaos of our lives. "If you like it that much, you can stay," I teased lightly. "I'll go ahead and come back to visit you sometime."
His eyes widened in alarm, and he sat up abruptly, his expression filled with panic. "Gege, you can't leave me here alone!"
I chuckled softly, unable to resist ruffling his hair. "You won't be alone. You could stay with Hong'er's family. You're skilled and hardworking. The villagers would be thrilled to have you."
But he only leaned closer, his voice urgent and his eyes pleading. "Gege, you promised to take me home. I want to go with you."
His desperation was so sincere it made my chest ache. Realizing how seriously he'd taken my teasing, I softened and patted his shoulder. "I was only joking, Feng'er. Of course I'm taking you with me. We'll leave together, just as I promised."
He let out a heavy sigh of relief and settled back down. "Gege, you always scare me when you say things like that."
"Alright, alright," I said, laughing softly. "No more scary jokes. Now, lie down and get some sleep."
Just as I thought he'd settle in, he suddenly brightened, his mood shifting in an instant. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he reached for something hidden under the bed.
"Gege, before we sleep, I have something for you," he said, pulling out a small clay pot and holding it out to me.
I blinked, taking the pot from his hands. It was small enough to fit in my palm, its surface uneven and slightly lopsided. It wasn't the most elegant piece of craftsmanship—it looked like something hastily made by a child eager to run off and play. But it was charming in its simplicity, and I couldn't help but feel a wave of affection for him.
"What's this for?" I asked curiously.
"It's a travel-sized cauldron," he explained eagerly. "So you can refine elixirs while we're traveling. I even made a cork from rubber wood to prevent spills. You can keep it in your bag and not worry about it tipping over."
I stared at him, speechless. Although the clay pot wasn't much to look at, the thought and effort behind it touched me deeply. And, surprisingly, it was practical. Although small in size, if I funneled energy into it regularly, it would serve perfectly for refining small batches of medicine on the road.
"Feng'er," I said softly, smiling as I turned the pot over in my hands. "Thank you. This is incredibly thoughtful."
He beamed, his cheeks tinged with pride. "I made it myself."
"You did?" I feigned surprise, although it was obvious who the creator was. No one else in the village would craft such a unique piece. "Who taught you?"
"Hong'er's father helped me a little, but I did most of the work," he said proudly.
I examined the pot again, admiring its imperfections. "Very nice, Feng'er. It seems you've discovered a new hobby."
He shook his head, laughing. "It's not something I'd like to do again. I only did it for Gege."
His words warmed me even more. "Well, I'm grateful. We'll take this with us and put it to good use."
"Really?" His smile widened, and for a moment, he looked as if he'd just been handed the world.
"Really," I assured him, setting the clay cauldron gently upon the nightstand before reclining on the bed. "Now, it's late. Let's get some rest. We have a long journey ahead."
"Yes, Gege," he said obediently, rising to slip off his night robe. Beneath it, he wore only a pair of loose-fitting pants, his upper body left bare to the humid air. With unbothered ease, he climbed back into bed and lay down, arms tucked behind his head as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I turned my gaze away quickly, focusing instead on the flickering shadows cast by the lantern on the wall. But it was no use—the image of his sculpted chest, lean waist, and the faint lines of muscle along his arms lingered stubbornly in my mind. That physique was unmistakable. Even without the memories, even stripped of power and title, there were things about Ruan Yanjun that refused to fade.
"Why are you sleeping like that?" I asked, more sharply than intended.
He blinked at me, puzzled. "Because it's hot, Gege. I sweat at night."
I had no counterargument. He was right—the air in the cabin was thick and warm, the sea breeze barely a whisper through the half-cracked window. Still, I struggled to reconcile the contradiction before me. A boy with the gentle heart and innocence of a child, inhabiting the body of a man who once made entire sects tremble.
Just as I tried to push that thought aside, he turned his head, his gaze settling on me. "Gege, aren't you removing your clothes too?"
I stiffened. My breath caught for a beat too long, and I quickly shook my head. "No. This is my sleeping robe," I said, keeping my tone even. "It's light. I'm fine."
He accepted the answer with a small nod and rolled onto his side, facing me. Though he was careful not to touch me, he inched closer, as if proximity alone offered comfort. The distance between us faded, replaced by the warmth radiating from his bare skin and the subtle, lingering scent of the sea that still clung to him from his earlier swim.
He said nothing more, but I could feel the weight of his stare on my face, as intense as ever. That silent observation, the same one that made me feel like he was memorizing the details of my expression, my breathing, my every blink. I refused to meet his gaze, instead keeping my eyes fixed on the ceiling beams, trying to will my thoughts to calm.
"Goodnight, Gege," he whispered finally, his voice soft and laced with a quiet affection.
I gave the smallest nod. "Goodnight," I replied, keeping my tone clipped and neutral.
The room fell into silence once again, broken only by the rhythmic crashing of waves outside and the gentle hum of night insects. His breathing slowed beside me, steady and relaxed, drifting slowly toward sleep. And yet, even without touching, he felt too close. The presence of him, so warm and unguarded, crept under my skin like heat from a fire I couldn't escape.
I tried to ease my breathing, to will my thoughts into stillness—but they refused to settle. His gestures, though innocent on the surface, carried an unsettling weight when placed against the dissonance between his grown body and child-like mind. And that gaze—so open, so full of unfiltered admiration—continued to unnerve me. No matter how often it found me, I had yet to grow accustomed to it.
I turned my body away from him, but sleep refused to come. My mind kept circling, trying to make sense of the man—or the boy—beside me. I could not understand how this boy and the devil Ruan Yanjun were one and the same. How had this warmth turned so cold? How had this innocence twisted into the terrifying force that struck fear even into the hearts of demons?
I turned once more, just enough to glimpse his face. In sleep, he looked untouched by darkness—his expression calm, bathed in the soft silver light drifting through the window.A quiet smile tugged at my lips. If only this was who he truly was… who he might've been, had the world shown him mercy.