Amidst the Waves [Wuthering Waves]

In a modest house nestled amidst a vibrant flower garden, dawn painted the world in hues of gold and amber. The house itself bore the marks of time—aged walls with faint cracks and weathered edges that whispered tales of seasons past.

Dew clung to the petals outside, shimmering like tiny jewels, while a faint, crisp breeze carried the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil. Inside, however, a sharp exchange shattered the calm of the morning.

"Leave."

Kyorin's voice cut through the air like a blade that scattered the light. He stood rigid, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his stance firm. His eyes bore into the two guests, Xuanmiao and Changli, with an intensity that left little room for interpretation.

Changli's brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced at her master. Xuanmiao, however, seemed entirely unbothered. Reclining slightly, he wore a faint, almost mischievous smile as he studied the boy.

There was no heat in Kyorin's words, he noted—only the raw bluntness of a child declaring his will.

"Aren't you being a bad host?" Xuanmiao mused, his tone light. He reached for another sweet, carefully crafted by Xia, and popped it into his mouth, savouring it. Internally, he remarked, 'These are quite good.'

But Kyorin was undeterred. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. "Either leave, be driven out, or..." He leaned forward, his narrowed eyes gleaming with a sharp, almost predatory light that sent a ripple of unease through the room.

Sensing his suppressed malevolent intent, Changli's guard visibly heightened. Her shoulders were slightly squared, and her hands rested lightly near her weapons—a subtle but unmistakable stance of readiness as she glared at Kyorin, yet did not take action as she waited for her master to give the call.

"Or?" Xuanmiao prompted, his gaze unwavering as he placed his teacup down with a soft clink.

"Pay the bills," Kyorin spat, the words flat yet laced with defiance.

For a moment, silence hung between them. Xuanmiao blinked, clearly not expecting that response, before letting out a low chuckle. "Aren't we guests?" he asked, tilting his head in mild amusement.

"You're overstaying," Kyorin replied curtly, his tone colder than the dawn's breeze.

Xuanmiao's eyes twinkled with mischief as he gestured toward the kitchen, where Xia hummed softly while preparing breakfast. Her movements were fluid, her joy evident in how she carefully arranged the meal.

"Your mother doesn't seem to mind," Xuanmiao remarked, his gaze drifting to Changli, who stood stiffly at his side, her posture composed but with a faint air of awkwardness.

Over the weeks, however, Changli had settled into the household with surprising ease. She had grown close to Xia, who treated her like a daughter.

Xia's warmth was evident in the way she patiently taught Changli how to cook during their free moments, guiding her with gentle smiles and encouraging words.

And to Xuanmiao's surprise, Changli seemed to take genuine enjoyment in these lessons, her usually guarded demeanour softening.

It wasn't long before she discovered a new hobby outside of her usual Weiqi matches—spending quiet, simple moments with Xia in the kitchen or tending to the small flower garden out front.

But, Kyorin wasn't having it. His patience fractured like brittle glass—*Bang*—He slammed his hand on the table, the sharp crack startling even the air in the room.

"Don't try to take advantage of my mother's generosity!" he snapped, his voice carrying a fiery rage that made the atmosphere grow heavier.

"Kyorin~"

Just then, Xia's voice rang out, warm yet laced with a deliberate sweetness that made Kyorin halt mid-step. Her melodic tone carried an edge of mischief, enough to send a shudder rippling through him.

"Weren't you supposed to go out and get some herbs?" she asked, her radiant smile betraying the firmness of her words.

Kyorin's shoulders sagged in reluctant defeat. "Right," he muttered, his voice heavy with annoyance. He gave her a bow saying, "I will be back soon," before grabbing his things and heading for the door with a resigned grumble.

As the door shut behind him, Xia turned back to their guests, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her usual warm demeanour flickered with unease as she approached, carrying a tray of freshly prepared food.

"I'm sorry about him," she said, setting the tray down on the table. Her voice was gentle, but the tension in her smile was unmistakable.

Xuanmiao leaned back slightly, his expression amused but respectful. "There's no need to apologize, Lady Xia," he replied, his tone smooth and measured. "If anything, we should be apologizing for overstaying."

Xia's brows furrowed as she waved off his words. "Please, don't feel guilty. It's a virtue to extend good hospitality," she insisted, her tone unwavering but tinged with quiet sincerity.

Xuanmiao studied her for a moment, his smile fading into a thoughtful expression. He took a slow sip of his tea, savouring both the flavour and the weight of the moment.

"I think I understand that child's sentiment a little better now," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

Changli's eyes darted toward her master, sensing the shift in his mood. But Xuanmiao's gaze remained distant, caught in a memory.

He recalled the day he'd seen Kyorin fight—a raw, unrelenting display of force. The boy's attacks had been precise, his movements efficient, and each strike delivered without hesitation.

And then there was that look in his eyes—cold, calculating, as if mercy had no place in his world. If Xuanmiao hadn't intervened, there was no telling how far the boy might have gone.

'No wonder he's so protective of her,' Xuanmiao thought, his expression darkening. His mind turned over the boy's peculiarities—his lack of Resonator talent, yet his startling martial ability and that enigmatic Forte. Kyorin was no ordinary child.

As Xuanmiao set his cup down with a soft clink, he broke the silence. "Lady Xia, may I ask you something?"

Xia tilted her head slightly, her expression curious but cautious. "Of course," she said.

"What kind of future do you want for your son?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Xia blinked, visibly caught off guard. Her gaze dropped for a moment, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her apron.

"I haven't given it much thought," she admitted, her voice softening. "But... I hope he won't be too influenced by me." A shadow of sadness passed over her face as she spoke, her smile faltering.

Xuanmiao watched her closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was more to her words than she let on, but he chose not to press further. Instead, he smiled faintly and said, "Lady Xia, I'd like to pay you."

Xia's head snapped up, surprise flashing across her features. "There's no need for that!" she said quickly, shaking her head. Her voice wavered, the refusal coming more from discomfort than from courtesy. "As I've said, this is just a formality from us."

Xuanmiao's expression grew firmer, his tone calm but insistent. "I understand your sentiment, but this also concerns your son."

Xia's eyes narrowed slightly, her hands stilling as she processed his words. "Are you saying... you wish to teach him?" she asked, her voice laced with a mixture of surprise and apprehension.

At this, Changli's attention snapped fully to her master, her brows furrowing as she awaited his response.

Xuanmiao nodded, his smile returning, this time tinged with quiet resolve. "You've been kind enough to teach my disciple how to cook," he said, glancing briefly at Changli. "It's only fair that I return the favour in kind."

Xia hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of her apron, a nervous energy crackling in the space between them. Then, her voice came, firm yet filled with emotion. "No."

Xuanmiao, undeterred, pressed on, his voice tinged with deliberate sharpness, though it wasn't unkind. "Contrary to your wishes, aren't you influencing your child's future now, Lady Xia?"

Xia flinched at his words. She knew the elder wasn't trying to be rude by using her own words against her, but something about it hit deep—perhaps because it was the truth.

Still, her worries overshadowed it, and her lips trembled as she spoke again. "Elder, I believe you must know that, unlike your disciple, my Kyroin is..."

"Talentless," Changli finished the thought for her, her words sharp and matter-of-fact. The sharpness of the completion struck Xia harder than she anticipated, and she winced as if the words themselves had left a mark.

Xuanmiao gently tapped Changli's head, his action soft but the sting it left remained. Changli blinked up at him, rubbing the spot with a pout. "Owie," she mumbled, the slight shift in her expression drawing a chuckle from Xuanmiao.

"Yes," Xia murmured, her voice breaking slightly under the weight of her admission. "Compared to little Changli here, my son is talentless as a Resonator."

Her muttered words cut deeper than she had anticipated, and she quickly lowered her gaze. A pang of guilt gnawed at her—was this her fault?

Had she failed her son somehow? Neither hers nor that bastard's family had ever been a martial one, and that must have affected Kyroin's potential.

Xuanmiao looked at her with a calmness that barely masked the flicker of intrigue in his eyes. "Is he now?" he asked, his tone casual but carrying the edge of someone probing deeper.

Xia met his gaze, confused by his questioning. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Xuanmiao continued with a slight smile, "he could just try to be good at other things, apart from being a Resonator. How about Weiqi? Surely he could focus on that."

At that, Changli, her pride clearly showing, piped up, "He lost yesterday." There was a smugness in her voice, and her posture straightened as she recalled the match.

Xuanmiao's hand clenched into a fist, but he did not allow the irritation to surface. He could see that Changli was gloating, using Kyorin's loss to inflate her ego, but he didn't let it show on his face.

However, Xia's next words cut through Changli's pride like a dagger. "But my son has never played Weiqi."

The room fell into silence. Changli's eyes widened in surprise, and Xuanmiao, though slightly amused, let a smile curve his lips as he nodded to himself. 'As expected.'

Xia continued, her voice gentle but firm, "I believe he must have lost poorly and was probably angry about that. That's why he was rude to you both."

Xuanmiao chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, no. You misunderstand, Lady Xia. He was one short of winning yesterday."

"Eh?" Xia gasped, her hands instinctively rising to cover her mouth in disbelief.

Xuanmiao leaned forward, his tone turning more serious. "Don't shelter your son forever," he said, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "He will eventually have to face the world on his own, and wouldn't you agree that he needs to understand his talents before he does?"

Xia was quiet for a long moment, her gaze searching Xuanmiao's face for any sign of ulterior motives. She could see the truth in his words, but the mother in her felt the hesitation, the fear of letting go.

Finally, she exhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as she made her decision.

"If you truly think it's for the best," she murmured, her voice small but sincere. The unease was still there, lingering beneath the surface.

Xuanmiao's gaze softened as he nodded, understanding her struggle. "I do," he replied simply, his voice warm with quiet conviction.

As the conversation about yesterday's Weiqi came to a close on one side, it found its counterpart on the other as DEVA's mechanical voice echoed in Kyroin's mind. "Wait, so you've never played Weiqi before yesterday?"

Kyroin's answer was simple, almost indifferent. "Yeah."

DEVA's circuits buzzed with frustration. She had planned to mock him for losing to a child, but now she held herself back.

"He should have won—after all, he was more experienced." Some part of her considered exploiting this argument.

However, she knew Kyroin would not let such a comment go unchallenged. Hence, instead of pursuing the matter, she dismissed it with a sharp click of her metaphorical tongue. "Tch"

Unbothered by her small distraction, Kyroin continued collecting herbs, his mind somewhere distant. Time passed, and as the afternoon wore on, he set his things aside and then froze. 'Shit,' he cursed inwardly. He had forgotten lunch.

"Guess I'll have to hunt," he muttered, but just as the thought crossed his mind, a rustling from a nearby bush caught his attention. Without thinking, he lunged forward, only to hear a high-pitched voice shout, "Whao!"

He froze mid-pounce, realizing he had tackled someone. Changli lay beneath him, their faces so close she could feel his breath on her skin. Her face flushed as she noticed the lunch bag in her hands—his lunch.

"Sorry," Kyroin muttered, quickly standing up and extending a hand to help her. But Changli swatted it away, glaring up at him.

"Who are you calling a rabbit?" she snapped, clearly offended. She scrambled to her feet, brushing herself off as she got up.

Kyroin gazed at her, his mind still processing how she got here. "How did you find me?" he asked, his tone flat, indifferent.

"Mother Xia told me to go near the river. The good river is southeast of Hongzhen," she explained, glancing around at the area. "Hmm, must be nice, picnicking here every day."

Her gaze shifted to Kyroin, noting his impassive face. 'He's probably hopeless with girls,' she thought but didn't say it aloud.

"You don't seem bothered," she remarked with a hint of challenge in her voice.

Kyroin raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

Changli hesitated, then said, "About me calling Lady Xia Mother."

To her surprise, Kyroin's expression didn't shift. "No," he replied, his voice calm but with an undertone of sincerity. "I am rather grateful, to say the least."

Changli tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face. "Grateful?" she echoed.

Kyroin paused, his gaze distant as he elaborated. "My mother once said she wished she had a daughter. Sometimes... she even dressed me like a doll when I was a kid."

His voice held a faint sadness, like the shadow of a memory that never fully faded. There was a fleeting change in his expression, something cold, something deep. The brief mention of his mother's wishes seemed to stir something inside him, but he buried it quickly.

"Did something happen to your father?" Changli asked, her voice quieter, gentler now.

Kyroin's gaze flickered toward her, a flash of anger crossing his features before disappearing as quickly as it had come. "Let's just say... he's dead," he said, his voice as cold as ice.

Changli sensed the weight in his words but wisely chose not to press further. She had learned when to ask and when to remain silent.

"So, is it okay if I call her Mother?" Changli asked, her voice almost daring him to say no.

"As long as it makes her happy," Kyroin replied, his focus shifting to the lunch box in Changli's hands.

His expression was calm, but the faint hint of hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. Changli noticed his subtle impatience and smirked, an idea suddenly forming in her mind.

"Say…" she began, her tone dripping with mischief.

Kyroin glanced at her, his annoyance barely hidden. His lunch was being delayed, and he didn't appreciate it. "What now?" he asked curtly.

"Why don't you call me Elder Sister?" she suggested, her voice carrying a mix of pride and playful arrogance.

Kyroin blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?" The single syllable was laced with disbelief.

Changli didn't stop there. "Oh, and also, can I call you Ky-chan? You know, like how Mother does?"

At that, Kyroin's face darkened noticeably. The nickname, Ky-chan, was something Xia sometimes blurted out of habit, a name that was too much for his liking.

It was a playful nickname given by Xia, who envisioned him as a daughter when he was a baby. However, he only allowed her to call him that, and someone else using that name, which only someone familiar would use, felt discomforting.

"Never," he said flatly, his tone firm, but the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his discomfort. Changli caught the subtle tell, her smirk widening.

"Oh, come on!" she teased, leaning in with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Let me be your elder sister, Ky-chan. I'll bring you lunch every day and protect you when you need it. Ky-chan!"

Kyroin's gaze hardened, his voice colder than the wind cutting through the trees. "I don't need protection from someone weaker than me."

The remark struck a nerve. Changli's playful expression faded, replaced by a sharp frown. Prideful as ever, she extended a hand, conjuring a fiery feather that glowed with heat. "Then let me demonstrate," she challenged, hurling the flame-tipped feather toward him.

Kyroin didn't flinch. He exhaled lightly, and the feather extinguished in midair snuffed out as easily as a flickering candle against a tempestuous wind. Changli froze, her confidence replaced with confusion.

"What?" she muttered, disbelief thick in her voice. "What did you just do?"

"Just a fraction of my power," Kyroin replied, his tone laced with quiet arrogance. He turned sharply on his heels, his back to her, and began striding toward the dense forest without another glance.

"Hey! Your lunch!" Changli called after him, holding the lunchbox aloft.

Kyroin didn't break his stride. "I don't want it from you," he said, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument. His focus shifted to the thought of finding wild birds or rabbits to make up for the meal he had refused.

"Hey!" Changli shouted again, sprinting after him. Determined and indignant, she tried to catch up, her pride refusing to let him leave her behind so easily.

To be continued...