Lan Feng's First Kiss

LUO FAN

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I froze, my breath catching as I realized what was happening. Dark energy swirled faintly around Lan Feng, an unmistakable aura that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his rising emotions. It wasn't strong yet, but the mere presence of it told me everything: his desire to save me had inadvertently awakened his latent power. This energy, however faint, could stabilize my own depleted reserves.

But there was no time. The Shuiyan was shaking off the disorientation from the earlier attack, its glowing eyes locking onto me with renewed fury. I couldn't afford to let this opportunity slip.

Without giving Lan Feng any warning, I rose to my toes, gripped his shoulders, and pressed my lips against his. His entire body stiffened in shock, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides as I drew in the energy coursing through him. The warmth of his aura filled me, spreading through my body like a rushing tide and mending the fractures in my spiritual reserves.

When I pulled away, his eyes were wide with disbelief, his mouth slightly open as if to say something. But no words came. He stood frozen, utterly paralyzed by what had just happened, unable even to blink.

"Lan Feng," I said softly, my voice steady but urgent. "Thank you."

He didn't respond, still rooted in place, but I didn't have time to explain.

Now fully recharged, I turned back to face the Shuiyan. Grabbing a handful of debris from the water, I crushed it into sharp splinters with a surge of wind energy and hurled them toward the creature. The fragments flew like a storm of needles, forcing the Shuiyan to defend itself with its staff, deflecting the shards in a flurry of water and energy.

While it was distracted, I moved. Propelling myself forward with a powerful gust of wind, I closed the distance between us in seconds. My hands and feet moved instinctively, striking with precision. Ruan Yanjun had taught me hand-to-hand combat long ago, and now, in the absence of a weapon, his training was proving invaluable.

The Shuiyan fought back fiercely, its movements swift and fluid. It summoned jets of water to strike at me, but I dodged and countered, using bursts of wind to disrupt its attacks. I had no intention of killing it, but the Shuiyan left me no choice. It lunged at me with its staff glowing bright, aiming for a killing blow. I sidestepped and countered with a strike of my own, sending a powerful wave of energy directly at its chest.

The Shuiyan staggered back, its balance faltering. With one last desperate attempt, it lunged again—its staff raised high, its body twisting like a serpent through the air. Water churned violently beneath it, surging forward in a towering wave that threatened to swallow us whole.

I didn't hesitate.

I shot upward, riding a column of wind as the wave crashed below. At the peak of my ascent, I twisted in the air, drawing the wind tightly around me like a blade. Then I dove—straight at the Shuiyan, who had turned midair to meet me.

The moment we collided, a shockwave erupted through the air. My wind-infused strike pierced through the Shuiyan's defense. Its coral staff shattered in two, fragments flying into the sky like exploding pearls. A scream echoed—inhuman, agonized.

And then it fell.

The Shuiyan plummeted back into the sea, crashing with a violent splash. A ring of silence followed, the ocean itself seeming to hold its breath.

I exhaled shakily, my body trembling as the tension bled from my limbs. The ocean stilled, the once-chaotic waves now settling into gentle ripples, as if the Shuiyan's death had lifted some unseen burden from the sea itself. It felt like the entire world had exhaled with me.

Behind me, I turned and found Lan Feng still standing on the battered half of the broken boat. His robe was soaked, his hair plastered to his face, and his lips slightly parted. His eyes locked onto mine—wide, bright, and filled with something I hadn't seen in a long time: relief. That singular look, more than the herb I had retrieved or the battle I had survived, was what grounded me.

He was safe. That thought alone steadied me.

As I began to approach him across the floating wreckage, something moved below the water. My body tensed instinctively—ready for another attack—but what surfaced next was not hostile.

The massive creature—the whale-like beast that had once served as the Shuiyan's mount—rose beside me with a gentle splash. Its massive, glistening body broke the surface slowly, its fins paddling lazily through the water. It circled me, not with aggression, but with a curious tilt of its massive head, its large eyes blinking softly.

"It's not a monster," I whispered, realization dawning in my chest. "It never was."

The creature had been a pawn, a companion bound by the Shuiyan's spiritual will. Without its master, it was simply… a creature of the sea. Gentle. Inquisitive.

I reached out a cautious hand, and to my surprise, the creature glided forward, lowering its head in recognition. There was no resistance. No aggression. Only understanding.

Climbing onto its slick back took effort, but it remained still, accommodating my weight without protest. Its flesh was warm beneath me, like sun-kissed stone after a long day. I turned toward Lan Feng, who stood transfixed, his gaze flicking between me and the creature.

"Lan Feng," I called, extending my hand to him.

He hesitated—just for a heartbeat—then stepped forward, water sloshing around his feet. When his fingers touched mine, I helped him up gently, steadying him as he climbed onto the creature's back. He sat close behind me, the shift of weight causing the beast to bob slightly before regaining its balance.

"Are you alright?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

He nodded, his arms wrapping firmly around my waist as he pressed close. "Gege… I'm glad you're safe."

His words were simple, but they pierced something deep in me. My throat tightened as I looked away, the swell of emotion catching me off guard.

The creature turned, and instead of heading back toward shore, it began gliding slowly in the opposite direction, deeper into the sea. I furrowed my brow, about to command it to return—until I saw it.

A faint trail of residual energy lingered in the water, barely visible to the untrained eye. It shimmered like misty threads of silver, spiraling away from the spot where the Shuiyan had fallen.

"It's following the energy…" I murmured, the realization striking me like lightning. "The Shuiyan's spirit is returning to the source it was bound to protect."

The creature carried us smoothly across the waves, its body undulating with calm purpose. The ocean parted ahead, revealing a shallow reef shimmering just beneath the surface. I could see it clearly now—an ethereal bloom swaying gently in the current.

The Crested Sea Lily.

Bathed in a soft, otherworldly glow, its pale golden petals unfurled like a flower basking in sunlight. Spiritual energy pulsed from it in rhythmic waves, resonating with the ocean around it. Even from here, I could feel its power—a rare herb born of the sea's deepest magic.

"Wait here," I told Lan Feng. He nodded, arms still wrapped around me.

Sliding off the creature's back, I dove into the water. The sea welcomed me, cool and clear. The deeper I swam, the more I felt the Crested Sea Lily's aura brushing against me, like a heartbeat echoing through the current.

I reached out, fingers trembling slightly, and plucked the herb from its coral cradle. The light it emitted intensified for a moment, casting shimmering ripples across the seafloor, before it quieted—its purpose now complete.

When I surfaced, Lan Feng leaned over to pull me up, his grip strong despite the water. I climbed back onto the creature, sitting in front of him once more. His eyes were wide with wonder as he looked down at the glowing lily in my hand.

"What is it, Gege?" he began, voice hushed.

"This is a legendary herb," I said, tucking the herb safely into the folds of my robe. "The Crested Sea Lily. That's what the Shuiyan was guarding."

The whale-like creature let out a low, musical sound—something between a song and a sigh—and began its slow, majestic turn back toward the shore. The sun hung low on the horizon now, dyeing the sky with streaks of gold and crimson.

As we rode the waves, I glanced back at Lan Feng, who was still clinging to me tightly. I owed him my life today. For someone so young—or at least, believing himself to be so—he had shown incredible bravery.

The whale-like creature carried us back to the shore, the rhythmic swaying of its movements lulled the tension in my chest, but Lan Feng's silence was unsettling. His arms were still loosely draped around my waist, but he didn't cling to me like Ruan Yanjun might have. There was no teasing pressure, no deliberate closeness, no mischievous chin resting on my shoulder. He simply sat there, upright yet quiet, the picture of an obedient and reserved boy.

I tried to focus on the horizon, but his sudden voice broke the silence. "Gege," he said softly, almost hesitantly, "why did you kiss me?"

The question hit me like a sudden gust of wind, and I felt heat creep up the sides of my neck and settle at the tips of my ears. My grip on the whale's slick back tightened as I glanced over my shoulder, unsure how to answer at first.

"It's…" I cleared my throat, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. "It was a way for me to draw your energy."

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze lowered to the water. "Draw my energy?"

"Yes," I explained, my tone firm but gentle. "I needed your spiritual power to stabilize my own. I didn't mean to take so much, and I'm sorry I didn't ask your permission."

There was a pause. Then a quiet, barely audible, "Oh." His gaze lowered. Something subtle flickered across his face—disappointment? Sadness? But whatever it was, he quickly masked it with a small nod, as if trying to convince himself there was nothing more to it. "I understand."

I let out a quiet sigh of relief, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "And thank you for coming to save me. You were very brave."

His voice came barely above a whisper. "No need to thank me."

He leaned forward. His forehead came to rest gently against my shoulder, the weight of it light but unmistakably real. His breath was warm against the damp fabric of my robe.

"Gege," he murmured, his voice thin and weary, "I feel so weak."

"You pushed yourself too hard," I said quietly, keeping my voice calm and steady for him. "You're still recovering. Just rest. We'll be back soon."

He didn't answer, but I felt the slow rhythm of his breathing begin to soften, deepen. Within moments, his arms slackened ever so slightly, and I knew he had drifted to sleep.

I remained still, letting him rest, my thoughts whirling beneath the calm surface. Despite the battle behind us, despite the exhaustion weighing on both our bodies, I found myself listening to the sound of his breathing. That quiet, trusting closeness—utterly free of fear or hesitation—clung to me more tightly than his arms ever could.

Half an hour later, we reached the shore.

The villagers were still waiting, gathered in anxious clusters along the sand. But the moment they spotted us, their tense expressions broke into wide-eyed relief. Cheers erupted—soft at first, then growing louder as the realization set in that we had returned safely.

The whale slowed as it neared the shallows, halting just far enough from the beach that the waves barely kissed its sides. A few men rowed out in a small boat, calling out to us with beaming faces. Surprisingly, none of them seemed afraid of the massive creature beneath us. From the way they greeted it with casual glances, it was clear this wasn't the first time the village had seen the whale-like guardian.

I felt Lan Feng stir faintly behind me.

"Feng'er," I called over my shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. "We're here."

He groaned softly, still half-asleep, and buried his face into my back like a stubborn child refusing to wake. "Gege, I'm still sleepy…"

"You can sleep again once we're inside," I murmured, half-laughing despite my exhaustion. "But we need to get down now."

Reluctantly, he lifted his head. I helped him steady himself as we climbed onto the waiting boat. Once we reached shore, I turned back and offered the whale a small, respectful bow.

"Thank you, friend," I said quietly.

The creature let out a low, melodic sound—almost a farewell—before turning and gliding gracefully back into the open sea, disappearing into the horizon.

Around us, the villagers closed in with grateful expressions. The men I'd pulled from the water rushed to clasp my hands, their voices trembling with sincerity as they thanked me over and over.

"It's all resolved now," I told them gently. "There's nothing left to fear in the ocean. The Shuiyan is gone."

There were immediate offers to prepare a feast in celebration, but my eyes were already on Lan Feng. He stood beside me unsteadily, his pale face drawn with fatigue, his posture slumped in obvious weariness.

"Another time," I said kindly, raising a hand in refusal. "Lan Feng needs rest."

They understood. No one protested.

We made our way home through the beach. The tension of the day had drained from my limbs, but a new weight had taken its place. When we reached the house, Lan Feng didn't say a word. He staggered to the bed and collapsed without grace or ceremony, as though the moment his body touched the mattress, his strength fled completely.

I followed him, sitting beside the bed and pressing two fingers to his wrist.

His pulse was there—steady, but not right. An irregular beat throbbed beneath the surface, like a dissonant note in a familiar melody. His breathing, while even, was shallow. I leaned closer and gently brushed my fingers across his forehead and temples, searching for disruptions in his qi flow.

What I found confirmed my fears.

It wasn't just exhaustion. This was qi deviation—a minor one, but dangerous nonetheless. His spiritual core, already unstable from his fractured skull and memory loss, had been pushed too far during the battle. And within him still lingered the dormant pressure of that dark, demonic energy.

He wasn't ready for that kind of power. Not yet. Not in this fragile, unawakened state.

"You're fighting battles you don't even realize," I whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from his cheek.

He stirred at my touch, lips parting faintly. For a moment, I thought he would speak, but the words never came. His body remained still, caught between dreams and exhaustion.

I pulled the blanket up to his chest and tucked it around him carefully. Then I stood and began preparing a medicinal elixir—something to ease the pressure in his meridians and keep his qi stable until morning.

As I ground the herbs in silence, I caught myself watching him again. That boy sleeping so peacefully beneath the blanket was a far cry from the man I had known. And yet, somewhere in the quiet rhythm of caring for him, I'd grown attached to this version—this vulnerable, unguarded Lan Feng who needed me in ways Ruan Yanjun never would have admitted.

When the day comes that he remembers everything… will he remember this?

Will he remember how much he leaned on me? How much I sacrificed, again and again, to keep him alive?

Only time will tell.