Chapter 22 – Su Lan’s Role

The days following Su Lan's rescue passed quietly, but the air around their camp was thick with unspoken tension. Xiao Xuan and Feng Qin had given Su Lan space to heal, but the weight of the silence between them lingered. Su Lan was physically recovering, but emotionally, she remained distant, her every movement careful, as though she was afraid of revealing too much. It was clear to Xiao Xuan that trust was not something she could offer easily—not after everything she had been through. Every glance, every word seemed to be a test, as if she was waiting for betrayal to come again.

Xiao Xuan had known loneliness, he had known isolation, but he had also known the cost of keeping others at arm's length. He saw it in Su Lan—this life of survival, the emotional scars that came with the world they inhabited. Yet there was something else there, something beneath the surface. A vulnerability that was slowly starting to show itself, though she tried to suppress it.

He found himself watching her more often than he cared to admit. Her training sessions were precise, almost mechanical, as though each movement was a reminder of something buried deep inside her. Every time she raised her sword, every time she fought, it wasn't just her enemies she was battling—it was herself. Xiao Xuan could see it in the way she held back, the restraint that kept her from truly unleashing her power. He knew that kind of restraint well. He had lived with it for centuries, always holding back, never letting anyone in.

It was late afternoon when he saw her again, practicing alone at the edge of the camp. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across the ground, and the soft sound of her sword cutting through the air was the only noise in the stillness. Xiao Xuan watched her for a while, his eyes following the fluid, almost mechanical movements of her training. There was no emotion in her strikes—no passion, no anger. Just a controlled, methodical precision.

When he stepped closer, she immediately sensed his presence and stopped mid-strike, her body turning slightly to face him. Her eyes met his, but there was no warmth in them, only a quiet reserve.

"You've improved," Xiao Xuan said, his tone quiet but sincere.

Su Lan didn't answer right away. Her gaze dropped to the ground as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "I've had a lot of time to practice," she replied, her voice flat, as though her words didn't matter.

Xiao Xuan nodded, understanding the layers beneath her indifference. "You're skilled. But there's more to survival than just power," he said, his gaze steady on her.

Su Lan looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "I can take care of myself," she said, her voice edged with a hint of something that could have been pride—or defiance.

"I know you can," Xiao Xuan said, his tone calm, but there was an underlying firmness. "But no one survives alone. Not for long."

She didn't respond immediately, turning back to her sword. There was a tension in her posture, a subtle resistance to what he had said. Xiao Xuan could see that she was fighting something, battling a fear she wasn't ready to confront. It wasn't just survival she feared—it was trust, the idea of allowing herself to rely on others. She had been alone for so long, and to open herself up to others now felt like a risk she wasn't willing to take.

"I've been alone for a long time," Su Lan finally said, her voice quieter now, almost softer. "I'm not sure how to do this... trust people again."

Xiao Xuan's heart tightened, a pang of sympathy coursing through him. He had lived with that same isolation, that same fear of letting someone in. He understood her reluctance all too well. But this—this world wasn't a place to survive alone, not for long. Even immortals like him had learned the hard way that survival wasn't just about strength. It was about connection, about finding someone to rely on when everything else was crumbling around you.

"We don't expect you to trust us right away," Xiao Xuan said, his voice low, steady. "But we can build something together. Something more than just survival."

Her gaze flickered to him, a fleeting moment of something deeper passing through her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and she turned her attention back to her sword. She didn't answer, but the change in her posture didn't go unnoticed. There was something softer in the way she held herself, something that wasn't there before.

"I don't need saving, Xiao Xuan," she said, her voice firm, but there was a vulnerability in her words that she hadn't allowed herself to show before. "I can take care of myself."

Xiao Xuan nodded, understanding the pride in her voice, the wall she had built around herself to protect what little she had left. "I know you can," he said. "But no one survives alone. Not forever."

The silence between them was comfortable now, not filled with tension, but with understanding. Su Lan didn't respond immediately, but Xiao Xuan could see that she wasn't dismissing him. She wasn't rejecting him, not this time. She was simply… waiting.

And then, in a voice softer than before, she spoke again.

"Maybe... maybe I've been fighting for so long, I don't know what it would be like to just... live."

Xiao Xuan's chest tightened as he heard her words. It wasn't just survival she was struggling with—it was life itself. She had been so focused on staying alive, on fighting through each day, that she had forgotten what it was like to live—to feel joy, to find purpose beyond the constant battle for survival.

"You don't have to survive alone anymore," Xiao Xuan said quietly, his voice steady, but full of something more. "You don't have to fight for nothing."

Su Lan didn't answer immediately. She stood there, still and quiet, as if processing his words. Xiao Xuan didn't press her; he simply allowed the silence to stretch between them. For the first time, she didn't pull away, didn't close herself off completely. There was a subtle shift in her, a softening of the barriers she had put up for so long.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was quieter than before, and this time, there was a hint of something new in it—something that wasn't there before. "I don't know how to trust again. But... maybe I can try."

Xiao Xuan didn't say anything more. He didn't need to. He could see it in her eyes now, the faintest glimmer of hope, of something more than just survival. It wasn't trust, not yet, but it was the beginning of something. The beginning of a journey that would take time—time for Su Lan to learn to trust, time for her to heal, and time for them to build something stronger than mere survival.

Later that evening, as the camp settled into its quiet routine, Xiao Xuan found himself deep in thought. The conversation with Su Lan had unsettled him, but in a way that was almost comforting. He had always known that immortality came with a price. He had accepted the loneliness, the isolation. But now, for the first time, he saw the possibility of something more—something that wasn't just about surviving forever, but about finding connection.

He had seen it in Su Lan's eyes—the same fear, the same hesitation he had once known. But she wasn't like him. She wasn't immortal. Her fight wasn't just against the world—it was against her own pain, her own memories.

And yet, Xiao Xuan knew something now. He knew that survival wasn't enough anymore. He had been surviving for too long, too alone. It was time for something more.

The following day, Feng Qin watched Xiao Xuan and Su Lan from a distance. She had been paying attention to the growing tension between them, the subtle shift in their relationship. She could see it—Xiao Xuan's concern, his growing protectiveness. But there was something else in him now, something she couldn't quite place. Something that wasn't just about power.

Feng Qin's chest tightened as she watched them, the jealousy creeping into her thoughts. She had been with Xiao Xuan for so long, seen him through countless trials, and now… now he was letting someone else in. She wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

But there was something else there too—something deeper than just jealousy. A fear, perhaps, of being left behind. Of no longer being the one he turned to.

As she watched them, Feng Qin realized that this journey they were on, this family they were building, would be harder than she had anticipated. Trust, loyalty—it couldn't be forced. It had to be earned.

And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she was ready to share that with someone else.