Fate

"Stop right there! I'm going to break your hand!" Phoebe shouted as she chased after Elliott. 

Elliott chuckled and called back, "If you can catch me, I'll let you do whatever you want." 

Hearing his smug tone, Phoebe only grew angrier. She took two quick breaths, instantly accelerating to close the gap—proof of just how poor Elliott's lightness skill truly was. 

Seeing her gain on him, Elliott panicked and abruptly turned, pushing himself into a desperate sprint. 

Thud. 

Elliott sprawled flat on his back, limbs splayed like a starfish. 

Phoebe, who had been brimming with murderous intent, hadn't expected the man who had displayed such formidable martial prowess earlier to be completely oblivious to the massive tree behind him—running straight into it. 

Judging by the impact, that had to have hurt. Fighting back laughter, she approached. By then, Elliott was wobbling upright, shaking his head vigorously. He blinked at Phoebe and mumbled, "So many stars..." Then, with a foolish grin, he toppled over again. 

Phoebe burst into laughter. She had never met someone so absurdly entertaining. Spotting a boat nearby, she thought, I'll save the torment for when you're awake. She scooped Elliott up and leaped onto the vessel, vanishing into the distance before William Rockefeller could even step outside to see where they had gone. 

--- 

Night fell over one of the many islets of The Swallow Dock. Inside a cave, a campfire crackled as Phoebe fed it more wood. 

Snap. Pop. The fire hissed and spat. She glanced back at Elliott, still unconscious, and frowned. Why hasn't he woken up yet? 

Outside, the wind howled—nights at The Swallow Dock were bitterly cold. Phoebe shivered, her gaze fixed on the flames as memories surfaced—the year she had first met William Rockefeller. 

Elliott sat beside her, sensing the shift in mood. From Phoebe's breathing and inner energy, he could tell her emotions were turbulent, her qi unsteady. 

Recalling the trials of her life, he murmured, "Life is precious, love more so. Yet for freedom's sake, both may be forsaken." 

Of course, Elliott knew how deeply Phoebe loved William Rockefeller—and how much she had sacrificed for him. 

Truth be told, all the women in the Tianlong Sect had given so much for William. Only William himself had given little in return. 

Flitting from one woman to another, lounging in his princely manor—he lived without a care in the world. 

Phoebe turned to Elliott, turning his words over in her mind. The more she dwelled on them, the more she realized how bitterly lonely her life had been. 

She had left her family for William, only to end up wasting her days in a nunnery. Meanwhile, he indulged in endless pleasures. If only I could be truly free... 

Elliott tilted his head. "What's wrong?" 

Snapped from her thoughts, Phoebe met his gaze. "Could you... say that again?" 

Elliott smiled. "Life is precious, love more so. Yet for freedom's sake, both may be forsaken." 

Phoebe studied him—the way he seemed so at peace with those words. "Did you write that poem?" 

Elliott laughed. "I'm not that talented. A dear friend shared it with me. But both of us... we've lived by it. I just spoke it aloud in the moment." 

Phoebe absorbed the words before speaking again. "Can I ask you for a favor?" 

"Hm?" 

"May I borrow your shoulder?" 

Elliott blinked, then understood. "Of course." He patted his shoulder. 

Phoebe leaned against him. The scent of her hair flooded Elliott's senses, and soon, he felt her trembling. 

He knew what was happening—though he didn't understand why Phoebe was crying. 

Or why she had chosen him to cry on.