The cottage sat at the edge of a lake so still it mirrored the sky. Bamboo rustled in the wind, and every morning, mist curled around the eaves like soft arms.
Lin Xiyan stepped outside, robe loosely tied, a teacup in hand.
Inside, someone was mumbling about how the firewood was damp again.
"You used to survive poisoned arrows and death traps," Lin called gently, "but can't light a fire?"
Shen Liufeng emerged from the cottage, hair tousled, sleeves rolled up.
"I never said I was good at domestic warfare."
"You said you'd make breakfast."
"I said I'd try."
Lin chuckled and set the tea down, walking over.
He slipped his arms around Shen's waist from behind, resting his cheek against his back.
"It's okay," he whispered. "You're better at other things."
Shen turned, eyebrow raised. "Like what?"
Lin tiptoed and kissed him.
Shen smiled against his lips. "Point taken."
The days passed like petals drifting on water.
Sometimes they tended to a garden, bickering about whether plum trees were too sentimental.
Sometimes Shen taught sword forms to a few wandering orphans who stumbled upon their home.
Sometimes Lin wrote poems that he refused to read aloud, until Shen found one hidden under his pillow that simply said:
In this life and the next,
I'll only ever call your name beneath the blossoms.
On rainy days, they sat curled together by the hearth, sharing one blanket, one book, one breath.
And every night before sleep, Lin would ask softly:
"Still here?"
And Shen would always answer:
"Always."
Years later, in the spring, a visitor came. A young traveler, muddy and exhausted, asking for shelter. She saw the older man fixing tea, and the white-robed scholar scribbling at a desk.
"Are you the ones who once fought the Lotus Sect?" she asked, wide-eyed.
Lin smiled faintly, not looking up. "We've been called many things."
"Heroes," Shen added, handing her a cup.
The girl tilted her head. "But you live like… an old married couple."
Lin finally looked up. "That's exactly what we are."
That night, as the moonlight touched the blossoms blooming again outside their home, Lin Xiyan and Shen Liufeng lay together beneath soft quilts, the world finally quiet around them.
"Still here?" Lin whispered, like always.
Shen turned, pulled him close, and murmured against his skin:
"I'll stay until the blossoms stop falling."
Lin smiled, eyes half-closed.
"Then stay forever."
THE END ….