Fu Ran found himself in front of Tian Han’s guest home, a bridge of white connecting the path over a waterway. It led all the way to the front door. If Tian Han’s condition hadn’t improved at all, he might not be awake.

But since Wan Yu said that it wouldn’t be a problem, I should at least go check on him.

Fu Ran pressed his fingers into the indent of the door and slowly slid it open, and shut it behind him. Other than the sitting area, a screen partition cut off the rest of the building. The decor was basic: as expected of a temporary guest hall.

Removing his shoes, Fu Ran stepped up on the landing.

Even the scent of the room was inherently Tian Han: Like Roasted honey or burnt sugar. It wafted a certain comfort over the air. Not realizing he was tense, Fu Ran relaxed his shoulders, and took another step.

“How many times must I say it?” A sudden, snapping voice gave Fu Ran a fright. “I am fine. Just leave me be.” That low growl was full of threat, and the voice was much harsher than he had heard before.

He almost wanted to fun away, but the gifts in his hands urged him to stay put.

“Tian Han…?” It was quite possible that he was the reason for Tian Han’s rage, since Shi Wei Ji put him in his current condition. Fu Ran wanted to make himself known at least, since this was not his home. “Tian Han, may I come inside?” Followed by his question, was a torrent of horrid crashing noises—something most definitely just shattered.

“No! Don’t come in!” Tian Han desperately begged.

Fu Ran’s feet moved faster than his brain, and he didn’t register the words said. Instead he rushed through the kitchen in concern.

The scene came much too quickly: Tian Han’s body was crumpled to the ground in a mess. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes were wide and darted from side to side. A sheet of white must have fallen with him, and with a creasing disappointment, he grasped a handful of the fabric around his knees.

He was surrounded by destruction, as everything once resting on his shelf must have been yanked to the ground in an abrupt attempt to stand.

“Geez, did you have to destroy half your room in a rush?” Fu Ran crossed his arms and furrowed his brow.

“It’s nothing, really,” Tian Han said blankly, a pink flush of creeping regret lingered on his cheeks.

“Nothing you say…” Fu Ran searched for a place to lay his gifts, but the table nearby was already piled high with presents. This was shocking, because Fu Ran didn’t expect Tian Han to be so popular. Wrapped presents practically overflowed off the desk, to the point where the paperwork beneath it was entirely hidden.

The most favorite color of the wrapping seemed to be purple.

Fu Ran chuckled, making room to sit his gift among the masses. “When did you become so popular on An Xian Yun Peak?”

Tian Han’s tone betrayed the sense of coolness he tried to reign in, his words nearly a whimper: “I’m not all that popular.”

“What are all of these get-well gifts? It’s only been a day, so how is this not considered popular!”

Fu Ran was by Tian Han’s side in an instant and offered to fight off the sheets, but Tian Han ended up doing most of the work himself. With labored movements, he made it back to the bed.

Luckily, Tian Han didn’t look so bad after a full day's worth of healing. Perhaps Shesui Lang or some of our experienced healers helped to expedite the process? A thick bandage wrapped over his entire chest, clinging to the curve of toned muscle. Since the only other article Tian Han wore was his trousers—while every remaining inch of visible skin was covered in white wrappings, the bandages did little to hide his shape.

“But I am glad.” Fu Ran quickly turned away, covering his face with his sleeve. “Here I thought that… you wouldn’t have many friends, because you spend so much time at Xingti Pavilion.”

Tian Han leaned against his headboard and huffed. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Hurt me? Who?” Fu Ran sat at the edge of the mattress and crossed his arms.

“You might not look it, but are you injured? I can’t… remember anything after I blacked out.” Tian Han’s gaze lowered to the messy mound of sheets in his lap. Like a nervous habit, he pinched and pulled at the silk.

Was Fu Ran injured? Most certainly. He knew little of the healing process, but damaged qi meridians wouldn’t simply heal without intervention. He stretched his fingers on his right hand, and tested the flow of spiritual energy. It would have been difficult to put into words, but it felt like his energy pooled on his left side, unable to route to the right, like there was a wall straight down the center of his body. A sharp spark of pain accompanied the tightness. Completely blocked.

Fu Ran winced.

“Ah—” Tian Han gasped, and clutched at Fu Ran’s palm.

The tingling of poking and prodding was much gentler compared to Zhi Lao, and Tian Han meant absolutely no harm. But still, even trying to be light, it was minimal pressure away from being painful.

“I haven’t gone to a healer yet. I just got home.”

Tian Han shook his head and he frowned. “Don’t come to me before going to a healer.”

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A pull tugged at the corners of Fu Ran’s lips. “I was just concerned, but if you can complain, then it seems you are doing fine.” Before he could fall into the lull of amusement, Fu Ran's smile took on a more melancholic edge. “I also came by because I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“I feel I should probably do so for a lot of things.” Fu Ran slipped away from Tian Han’s grasp, and returned to the bed only after picking up his purchased gift. His fingers repeatedly pinched at the ornately decorated presents. “I haven’t been the kindest Master. I feel… unspeakably guilty.”

“You bought me something?” Tian Han cocked his head to the side, and his eyes hid a glimmer of interest. When it was plopped in his lap, like a child he eagerly toyed with the edges of the gift bag. "Can I open it?"

Where had that excitement come from, when he was so close to pouting up until this moment? Wearily, Fu Ran nodded.

Almost impatiently, Tian Han delved into the gift bag. Slices of oranges glistened with a syrupy sheen, and they were topped with a light snowfall of powdered sugar. That alone seemed to be enough to brighten his expression, with a look of sweetness. Fu Ran had already tried some before he bought the gift, so he knew they were a perfect mix of citrus and sweet.

“It’s been so long.... I quite like these,” Tian Han responded earnestly.

“Mn.”

Embarrassment took over Fu Ran’s face once the set of treats was placed on the bedside table, and Tian Han moved to the second box.

As soon as the lid fell open, Tian Han froze, his mouth half-open in stunned silence. “This is…”

This is what?

Self conscious, Fu Ran wanted to ask “What is that look for?” but he hadn't expected to see handsome features twisted into a complex expression.

Does he not like it?

“Shizun…” Tian Han’s response trailed off into nothingness. In his hands, like it was a delicate heirloom, he held a thinly decorated hairpin. Each of the six rubies rested in his palm and he lightly rolled one with his thumb.

The distance of amber eyes reminded Fu Ran of a heavy feeling. Drowning in one's past? Perhaps he was imprinting his own emotional depth onto an undeserving man, but the inundation of thoughts in that gaze wasn’t one to trifle with. Wrongfully so, Tian Han wasn’t previously taken as a sentimental man.

He nearly missed Tian Han inching closer, until a warmness of skin touched his cheek. Fu Ran’s eyes widened and his shoulders tensed. A palm had easily captured his face.

Tian Han’s expression was difficult to take in. With a new found closeness, his features had never been so clear. Long eyelashes, and an overwhelming sweet scent, and subtle marks of sun on his cheeks filled Fu Ran’s brain with needless clamoring.

Fu Ran’s eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but all that came was a light tap to his forehead—Tian Han’s against his own.

Following the gentle action, was a breathy whisper. “Thank you.”

Pulling away like nothing, Tian Han returned the hairpin into its case. He reluctantly closed the lid and put it to the side.

“I…” Fu Ran had trouble forcing the sentence out, though attracting a gaze forced him to continue, “I should be heading home.”

“Should I walk you back?” With such ease, as if he were barely injured at all, Tian Han slid his feet to the hardwood floor beneath his bed.

Putting his hands up in dismay, Fu Ran exclaimed, “In your condition? No way!”

“It’s not much trouble—”

“Tian Han.”

With the finality in Fu Ran’s tone, Tian Han dropped the conversation and apologetically lowered his head. “Goodnight, Shizun.”

“Goodnight.”

***

Returning home was supposed to be something he wanted—the sweet scent of wisteria petals lingering even on his old creaking floorboards. But when Fu Ran opened his front door, he was disappointed to be greeted with a small storage room. “Empty” didn’t fit, as it was filled with plants and bags, and knocked over pots, but he still wanted to describe it as such.

At least the bright colors of green and pink still remained. Even in his absence his flowers hadn’t gone a day without water. Many thanks to his ever digilent Shixiong.

He sighed—How lonely it was.

Fu Ran slid open the door to his tea house, prepared to drop his belongings. Like his socks had snagged on the hardwood floor, his legs froze at the sight of an intruder.

“Peak Elder Yi Yang?” Fu Ran whispered in a hushed tone.

“Call me as you usually would in private.”

“Yes, Yi Shibo,” Fu Ran answered in an unkept curt tone, and his lashes fluttered to the floor.

Yi Yang sat next to his bedside on the chair borrowed from his desk. He had already unfurled some of the made purple sheets, and his hand patted the mattress.

How could he refuse?

Extending his arm, Fu Ran let his bag fall to the ground, only inches inside the room. He closed off the space with a soft shut, and responded to the invitation to sit.

Yi Yang’s features had been elusive for months, maybe even half a year now, but his eyes rested half shut all the same. It had been quite a long time since they had been able to share the same air.

He still smelled of smoke and fire, distinctly different from Tian Han. Yi Yang was a out of control flame, rather than a crackling coal.

A chill reached for Fu Ran’s wrist, and gently picked up his palm. Yi Yang said, “You go outside only once in three years, and you return injured. What is this old man to do with such a troublesome child?”

“And Yi Shibo also does not come running to other disciples room’s when they return home with battle damage.”

Fu Ran strained his lips into a line and he turned his gaze to the open window instead. A place of pure peace—his private garden. The wisteria petals scattered his entire view, falling like rain of light purple and pink hues.

Yi Yang chuckled somewhat dryly. “Those are very different things.”

Fu Ran certainly didn’t think so, but he did not wish to question the An Xian Yun Peak Elder, so he only gave a small hum. “Mn.”

“Relax your arm, or this will hurt,” Yi Yang warned, before slipping his hand beneath gray sleeves with an ease that came with habitualness. He left trails of touches up Fu Ran’s arm.

Some of those touches tore out pained hisses from Fu Ran’s lips.

“I told you.”

“You just don’t understand gentleness, Yi Shibo.”

A foreign invasion, a coolness, filled his right arm. Yi Yang’s spiritual energy flowed through him, and he did his best to breathe normally.

Fu Ran’s face twitched at every pin prick of pain, but still he kept his expression as chilled as he could. “Yi Shibo needn’t trouble himself with personal healing. Aren’t you far too busy with investigations?”

“There were too few clues left behind. I promised you that I would look into it, and I will. You know demon realm investigations are. It takes—”

“It takes time. I understand Yi Shibo.”

Yi Yang’s fingers twitched against Fu Ran’s skin, a pressure barely noticeable. However Fu Ran was keen on these shifts.

Fu Ran’s tone was one of dissatisfaction, but he couldn’t swallow it down. Yi Yang had some involvement in planning the entrance exams for this year, and also was the one who decided to change them last minute. The upsetedness wasn’t from nothing.

“The damage done is quite bad. If you aren’t more careful with your body, you might ruin it,” Yi Yang explained, his palm resting on the underside of Fu Ran’s arm.

“Mn…”

Yi Yang’s expression didn’t change much, but he clutched onto those pale wrists. “I’ll be visiting every few days to check in on progress.”

“Is that really necessary?” Fu Ran questioned, his eyes widening in shock.

Yi Yang’s lips sat in a placid smile.

“...Yes, Yi Shibo,” Fu Ran said. When he lowered his head, cold fingers raked through his hair, and brushed messy strands to the side. A repetitive motion from his youth, and one intended to comfort.

The troubles are endless.