In the end, they both knew that this encounter would be something neither of them would forget. The differences between their two species only made their love-making more exciting and unique. As they lay there, tangled together in sheets, it was a moment of pure bliss, one that neither of them wanted to end.
Then, as abruptly as he'd appeared, Le Nadi vanished. Gone before the first rooster crowed, leaving behind only a faint scent of woodsmoke and a yearning in Mai's heart. Now, free from Ba Gấu's shadow, she yearned for a love worthy of her newfound independence.
The discovery of the gem was an afterthought, a curious twinkle they initially dismissed as a trick of the firelight. But its subtle warmth, a constant beacon in the darkness, whispered promises of a future brighter than any silk stall in Disin.
And so, Mai, unleashed like a tigress on the hunt, ventured forth. She sought suitors with eyes that met hers without flinching, men with strong hands and hearts ablaze. Ba Gấu, a faded memory relegated to whispers on the wind, was nothing but a cautionary tale of unfulfilled passions.
The rest remained shrouded in the future, a tapestry woven with threads of ambition, love, and betrayal. Le Nadi, a whisper from another time, had sown the seeds, but only time would tell if they would blossom into a garden of peace or a field of thorns.
act 3
Chapter 5: Act III - Walls and Whispers
The sun cast long shadows as Ba Gấu followed Lady Lan Anh through the echoing halls of the Khanh manor. Sunlight filtered through dusty tapestries, illuminating faded crests and forgotten memories. Every step felt heavy, like navigating a maze carved from his own unease.
"Here," Lan Anh announced, pushing open a creaking door that revealed a library overflowing with leather-bound tomes. "Perhaps some reading material will ease your... transition." Her voice, a honeyed veneer stretched taut over simmering tension.
Ba Gấu dipped his head respectfully. "Your generosity is overwhelming, my lady. Learning has always been a solace." He averted his gaze from the books, fearing they held reflections of his fractured reality.
Lan Anh hummed, the sound brittle like spun glass. "Indeed. Knowledge is a valuable ally, especially when one finds oneself... unanchored."
Ba Gấu flinched at the veiled barb. "The winds of fate can be unpredictable, my lady. But I am a dog of resilience, adaptable to the currents."
A ghost of a smile touched Lan Anh's lips. "Adaptability is indeed a necessary trait, particularly in these... trying times." Her eyes flickered to a shadowed corner, where a dusty tapestry concealed a gaping emptiness. A silent testament to their dwindling coffers.
He followed her gaze, a knot of guilt coiling in his gut. This forced marriage, a desperate bargain struck to save her ailing clan, felt like a betrayal both to Lan Anh and his own ghost of a wife.
"The Khanh legacy deserves only the utmost respect," Ba Gấu said, his voice firm. "Rest assured, I will strive to be a worthy steward, both of your name and your lands."
Lan Anh's smile turned bittersweet. "Duty is an admirable burden, Ba Gấu. But remember, a steward is not merely a caretaker, but also a companion."
Her words hung heavy in the air, the subtext sharp as a hidden blade. Ba Gấu cleared his throat, the knot in his gut tightening. "Of course, my lady. Companionship, understanding... these are things I value highly."
He spoke truthfully, but the word 'companionship' felt like a foreign language on his tongue. His only true companion was the phantom ache of a love lost, an oath still bound by whispers in the wind.
Lan Anh stopped before a grand window, her back to him as she gazed out at the fading light. "The moonrise over the Jade Mountains is quite spectacular from this angle," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Shall we enjoy it... together?"
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The question hung between them, a challenge veiled in courtesy. Ba Gấu knew what she expected, yet his heart remained tethered to a forgotten hope.
He closed his eyes, the image of Mai, fiery and fierce, flashing before his mind. "My apologies, my lady," he said, his voice hoarse with shame. "But the journey has been long, and fatigue weighs heavily upon me. Perhaps another time…"
"Another time indeed," Lan Anh agreed, her voice catching a flicker of surprise at his swift refusal. "Though this house tends to devour one's energy," she admitted, her gaze sweeping over the library's towering shelves. "My great-uncle, General Cao Van, claimed these walls trapped the souls of vanquished foes, forever whispering their regrets."
Ba Gấu raised an eyebrow, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "And did he hear their pleas for tea and biscuits, I wonder?"
Lan Anh chuckled, a rare sound that brought a spark of life to her face. "Biscuits, perhaps. Tea, less so. He swore one restless spirit kept demanding his favorite jasmine brew, always brewed exactly seven minutes and forty-two seconds."
They shared a moment of laughter, the tension easing for a brief, fragile moment. Lan Anh then gestured towards the window, her voice turning wistful. "The Jade Mountains," she mused, "They say Asuzibi the Master carved their jagged crests himself, angered by a careless lord who squandered his bounty."
Ba Gấu nodded, remembering whispers of the powerful mountain god. "His generosity should never be taken for granted."
"Indeed," Lan Anh said, leading him away from the window. "My late husband, Lord Minh, understood that well. During the last war, he turned this very manor into a field hospital. I spent years serving troops in these halls, tending wounds and mending not just flesh, but spirits."
Her voice, low and steady, held a quiet pride. Ba Gấu saw a glimpse of the strength hidden beneath her composed exterior, a woman tempered by hardship and duty.
"Lord Minh must have been a remarkable Cẩu Binh," he said, a genuine note of respect in his voice.
Lan Anh's smile grew, tinged with a bittersweetness that spoke of loss. "He was," she admitted. "He believed in Asuzibi's teachings – honor, duty, sacrifice. Values we must hold onto, even in these uncertain times."
As they continued their tour, Lan Anh pointed out ancestral portraits, each face a faded echo of past generations. She spun tales of daring ancestors who tamed wild stallions and cunning diplomats who outwitted rival kingdoms. The house, once a looming symbol of Ba Gấu's burden, began to feel like a tapestry woven with stories, a legacy he found himself weirdly curious to explore.
By the time they reached the expansive gardens, bathed in the soft glow of the rising moon, a tentative understanding had begun to bloom between them. Two souls adrift, finding solace in shared history and unspoken burdens. They stood beneath the ancient Bodhi tree, dedicated to Asuzibi, its branches a network of silver veins against the dark sky.
"There's a legend," Lan Anh whispered, her eyes catching the moonlight, "that Asuzibi himself once walked these gardens, disguised as a humble gardener. He tested the hearts of the manor's residents, rewarding those who showed kindness and generosity."
Ba Gấu smiled, a warmth spreading through him despite the shadows that still clung to his heart. "Perhaps we should leave him some jasmine biscuits then," he suggested, his voice tinged with hope.
Lan Anh's laughter echoed through the night, chasing away the ghosts of uncertainty. And for the first time since he arrived, Ba Gấu felt a flicker of something that wasn't guilt or obligation. It was a spark of curiosity, a sense of possibility, ignited by the stories of this ancient house and the woman who held its legacy in her hands.
The road ahead remained riddled with unknowns, but in that moonlit garden, under the watchful gaze of Asuzibi, a fragile seed of understanding had been planted. Time would tell if it would blossom into something stronger, a new path carved out of the ruins of old promises.
"Jasmine biscuits it is," Ba Gấu chuckled, the moonlight playing on his weathered face. He felt a sense of peace settling over him, a welcome balm after the turmoil of his journey.
Suddenly, the heavy oak door creaked open, shattering the serene atmosphere. A whirlwind of fur and indignation burst into the garden – Linh, her eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed.
"Lady Lan Anh!" she spat, her voice barely containing her fury. "I refuse to wait any longer! This waiting room is fit for a mangy mutt, not your guest of honor!"
Lan Anh's smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. "Linh," she said, her voice laced with a hint of steel, "patience is a virtue, even for spirited pups."
Linh scoffed. "Virtue? We're drowning in virtues while this house crumbles around us!" Her gaze fell on Ba Gấu, the fire in her eyes softening a touch. "Ba Gấu," she said, her voice softening, "have you managed to teach her some manners yet?"
Ba Gấu chuckled, a warm rumble in his chest. "Manners are not always taught, Linh. They are sometimes revealed."
Linh's brows furrowed. "Is that some cryptic wisdom you picked up from those Crimson Fang ruffians you dispatched?" Her words hung heavy in the air, a sudden chill replacing the warmth of their shared moment.
Lan Anh's face paled. "Crimson Fang?" she whispered, her voice strained.