Decorating his outside tea table with books and teacups was a fantastic way to brighten his mood, and lighten the mind. The final touches of placing some petals scattered over the red cloth made it perfect, and he admired his handiwork.

“Children!” Fu Ran called. He was glad he had Zhi Lao bring more seats from Xing Xing pavilion, because now each of his disciples had a place. There was even one extra for Tian Han, despite him often being missing as of late.

A few minutes of brewing some of his favorite tea, not the usual wisteria blossom tea he enjoyed in solitude, the sweet scent wafted through the little garden. Of course children were drawn to the smell of sweets. Like ants to honey, they took no time to gather around and steal their preferred seats. Meng Xiao, Lin An, and Su Biyu sat in that order on the other side of the table. It was a bit humorous watching the children pick the same seats every time.

Wan Yu sat to Fu Ran’s right, and Tian Han would normally be to his left. Fu Ran thought it normal for him to want to be near his father, but he remembered laughing when Wan Yu demanded Fu Ran be sat in the middle instead of Tian Han. Perhaps they didn’t get along much.

“Drink up first. This Shizun merely brought a few books that cover the basics. While they were intended for Lin An and Su Biyu, Meng Xiao and Wan Yu can use them, too,” Fu Ran explained.

With this, the girls giggled brightly. Lin An picked up her book even before her cup of sweet tea. Her cheeks were flushed with happiness, as if she had been brought a well-thought-out gift just for her. “Thank you, Shizun!” Lin An showed her appreciation through a large toothy smile. The other disciples began to echo her thanks with their own voices and varying tones.

Meng Xiao wasted no time drinking down his tea in one large gulp and sitting his cup down roughly. Fu Ran’s expression twisted, thinking the boy needed to be taught some manners, more than spiritual tactics.

Grinning when he saw Fu Ran looking at him, Meng Xiao propped up on the table and snarked, “Oh, right. I saw Tian Shibo.”

Su Biyu hid her embarrassment with her hands but her ears appeared flushed and pink, “Tian Shibo was sitting on the bed and reading beside Shizun.”

Fu Ran wanted to sigh. He began to think that maybe a door would be a good thing to request, even though Xingti Pavilion hasn't had a back door, ever. Not even when it was originally crafted.

Lin An’s teacup clanged against the little tray when she went to grab it. Her expression was stretched wide in shock. Her face matched Su Biyu with blushed cheeks. “What was Shizun talking about with Tian Shibo?”

“Seriously?” Fu Ran asked. The sudden barrage of improper conversation almost made him want to spit out his tea. “Have I indulged you all too much? Need I explain even private affairs?” he said with words of judgment. Even his harsher tone didn’t hush his disciples’ incessant giggling.

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Only Wan Yu didn’t laugh.

While the children resumed their practice, Fu Ran sat with them this time and watched as they all managed to hold onto spiritual flame. The books did well to teach them basics in terms of conjuring up spiritual energy, and this is one of the more basic skills one could pick up as a cultivator.

They all tirelessly trained and perfected their focus as best they could, however, only Meng Xiao could hold the spell perfectly. Wan Yu’s flame flickered, but it did stay lit. Su Biyu’s danced in between an incredibly dim and an overly heavy flame. If hers were being used to light a dark cave, everyone nearby would be given an intense headache, surely. And Lin An couldn’t keep hers going at all for more than a few moments. She seemed discontent over this.

“Lin An, don’t look like you’ve given up. The only one who doesn’t need to work on this further is Meng Xiao. Everyone else needs to keep practicing it,” Fu Ran explained. He kept a reassuring smile on his face, but his words didn’t ignite hope in her eyes like he had hoped.

She furrowed her brows. “I understand, Shizun.”

Fu Ran looked to the sky and saw that the colors were no longer a bright blue. Night had already started to roll in and the bright sun was replaced instead by hundreds of little stars. “It’s late. You should all be going to bed soon. Lin An, I think you are just getting too excited about seeing a flame in your hand,” Fu Ran chuckled sweetly. “Let’s work on breathing tomorrow.”

With happy yells of affirmation, the four disciples left his wisteria covered garden. He waited until the gate closed before he moved away from the ever-blooming tree.

Small stacks of books littered the tea table, and Fu Ran picked them up. They were now annotated with little ears and marks in them. He stacked them four high, and began to gather up the pretty teacups gifted by Tian Han. With ease he slid his body through the pink drapery over the back door, and he put the books on top of the shelf.

He was going to clean up the dishes as well, but when he came closer to his desk he noticed the bloodied pages scattered on his desk. “Oh no… Tian Han forgot some pages,” Fu Ran muttered.

Lightly touching his fingertip to the page, some of the thicker crimson globs were still a bit wet, and only the thinner stains were dry. Three of the four pages were completely untouched, but when he looked to the fourth, his eyes widened. Clearly, they were not random stains. The distinct lines, shapes, and patterns of the blood were too organized and deliberate to be mere blemishes on the page.

Someone had run their fingers through it and formed only a few simple characters. “Kuwei Jun?” he read aloud.

As Fu Ran stared at the blood-written name on the page, a wave of anxiety washed over him. His heart rate quickened and his palms started to feel clammy. “This is the name of the current emperor, isn’t it?”

An idea crossed his mind, making him feel sick: Had this always been written on this page, or was it new? The latter brought forth wicked images to the forefront of his mind, despite him not wanting to linger on the thought.

He suddenly began to miss Shi Wei Ji deeply, as he wouldn’t have to guess if this bore ill intent. He pressed his hands closer to his chest.

Stop beating so loud.

His eyes screwed shut, and a bead of sweat dripped down his face. “I can give these to Shesui Shixiong tomorrow,” he reassured himself. “Nothing bad will happen. Calm down, calm down.” He gave a few light taps to his chest, mimicking a smoother heartbeat.