Give Her a Sword

The warm spring sunlight streamed through the carved window lattice, casting mottled shadows on the bluestone floor. Su Wan sat by the window, her fingertips gently rubbing an old, warm jade pendant. The peach blossom pattern on the jade glowed faintly in the sunlight. This was carved by Murong Yan himself when he was young—back when he was not yet the young master of Qingyun Mountain, but just a clumsy boy crouching under a peach tree, fumbling with a carving knife.

Su Wan's fingers lightly traced the tiny marks on the jade's surface; those irregular places were exactly the evidence of his impatience back then. She pressed the pendant against her chest, where the wound had healed, yet somewhere in her heart, a faint ache still lingered.

"Miss Su Wan." Qingfeng's voice sounded from outside the door. "The young master asks you to go to the front hall for a meal."

Su Wan carefully tucked the jade pendant back into the depths of her clothes, stood up, and straightened her simple white dress. In the past few days since her injury, Murong Yan seemed to have returned to his former self—during the day, he was still the young master of Qingyun, always laughing and talking, never lacking female companions. But Su Wan faintly sensed that something had changed.

At the dining table in the front hall, Murong Yan was already seated in the main seat, dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, his black hair bound with a golden crown, his brows showing his usual nonchalance. When he saw Su Wan enter, he raised his eyes and said flatly, "Sit."

Su Wan sat down in the seat beside him as instructed—a seat that had never been reserved for her before. In the past, she always stood behind him or ate in the side hall far away, but now she was arranged at his side.

On the table were eight exquisite dishes, all of which Su Wan usually liked. She picked up her chopsticks and was about to reach for the steamed perch in front of her, but Murong Yan's chopsticks landed first, picking the freshest piece of fish and placing it steadily in her bowl.

Su Wan's hand paused, and she looked up at him.

Murong Yan, however, acted as if nothing had happened. He casually picked up a piece of green vegetable and said in a casual tone, "Eat more. With your frail body, a gust of wind could blow you over."

Su Wan lowered her head and looked at the fish in her bowl. The tender white fish was still glistening with crystal clear sauce. She took small bites, but her tongue could not taste anything—her mind was in turmoil, as if someone had stirred a pool of spring water.

In the past few days, there had been too many such "casual" gestures.

When she was refining medicine, someone would deliver a rare thousand-year snow lotus, saying the young master had "casually" taken it from the storeroom. When she was drying herbs, she would find that the originally scorching sun was blocked by clouds. Looking up, she would see Murong Yan standing under the eaves not far away, holding an unused cloud talisman in his hand, pretending to look at the distant scenery. When she was reading at night, the spiritual lamp on the table would light up on its own, even though she clearly remembered extinguishing it before going out.

He did so much, yet never spoke a word about it.

After the meal, Su Wan was sorting herbs in her small courtyard when Murong Yan walked in. He held a sword in his hand, its scabbard a simple black color adorned with plain cloud patterns.

"Take it." He handed the sword to Su Wan, his tone unreadable. "For self-defense. Don't be so stupid again, rushing out to die like that."

Su Wan was stunned.

This was not an ordinary sword. The scabbard emitted a faint spiritual light—the aura of a high-grade spiritual sword. Such swords were few even on the entire Qingyun Mountain. She looked up into Murong Yan's eyes.

His gaze flickered for a moment, then returned to his usual nonchalance. He raised an eyebrow and said, "What? Too cheap for you?"

"No…" Su Wan's voice trembled slightly. She stretched out both hands and solemnly accepted the sword. The sword was cool to the touch, yet inexplicably reassuring. "Thank you, Young Master."

Murong Yan snorted, turned to leave, took two steps, then stopped. With his back to her, he said, "The sword is called 'Suxin'—it matches your temperament. Practice diligently on your own, and don't end up unable to even hold the sword."

With that, he left the courtyard without looking back, the hem of his robe cutting a sharp arc in the wind.

Su Wan stood still, holding the "Suxin" sword in both hands, unable to collect her thoughts for a long time. Her fingers traced the cloud patterns on the scabbard—those patterns seemed simple, yet they echoed in an indescribable way with the peach blossom patterns on the jade pendant hidden in her clothes.

She drew the sword from its scabbard, and a clear, cold sword light reflected in her eyes. On the blade were engraved two small characters: Suxin. The handwriting was not flamboyant, yet carried a steady strength. Su Wan gripped the hilt, her fingertips turning slightly white.

Why was he so good to her?

This question lingered in her mind like a restless butterfly. She knew her identity—just an orphan taken in by the Murong family, a dispensable attendant. And he was the young master of Qingyun Mountain, a favored son of heaven with a spiritual root, surrounded by many talented and beautiful women.

Su Wan sheathed the sword and held it in her arms like a warm fire. The corners of her mouth involuntarily lifted slightly, but a hint of worry flashed in her eyes—could this sudden kindness be nothing but a dream?

The night breeze picked up, blowing the peach blossoms in the courtyard into a fluttering dance. Su Wan sat on the threshold, watching the countless petals flying in the air, and suddenly remembered something. She took a small medicine box from her storage pouch and opened the lid. Inside, neatly arranged bottles of healing elixirs, each labeled in delicate handwriting with its use.

This was what she had collected over the years, bit by bit—for him.

She carefully closed the medicine box and put it back in the deepest part of her storage pouch. That was her secret, and also her obsession. In this life, she would probably never let him know.

Just then, the courtyard door was gently pushed open. Su Wan looked up and saw a woman in a pink gauze dress walking in. She was extremely beautiful, with a hint of coquettish pride between her brows. It was Fairy Yunshang—one of Murong Yan's most favored female companions.

Fairy Yunshang obviously did not expect anyone to be in the courtyard. She paused, then looked Su Wan up and down. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the sword in Su Wan's arms, and a mocking smile curled at the corner of her mouth.

"Where is Brother Yan?" she asked, not looking at Su Wan, her voice coquettish.

Su Wan stood up and slightly bowed: "The young master left just now. If the fairy is looking for him, perhaps you could go to…"

"Did I ask you?" Fairy Yunshang interrupted her, walked slowly up to her, and glanced at her simple dress. "Who are you? How come even stray cats and dogs like you can enter Brother Yan's courtyard?"

Su Wan lowered her eyes and said nothing. She had long been used to such sarcasm—over the years, which of the women around Murong Yan had not given her a hard time?

Just then, a familiar voice came from the courtyard entrance: "Who asked you to come here?"

Murong Yan had returned. He stood at the entrance, dressed in a black brocade robe, a hint of displeasure on his face.

Fairy Yunshang immediately put on a sweet smile and quickly walked up to him: "Brother Yan, I missed you, so I came to see you—" Her gaze turned back to Su Wan, and she asked mockingly, "Brother Yan, who is this new face? She looks quite thin."

Murong Yan's gaze fell on Su Wan. She still kept her eyes lowered, her fingers holding the sword tightening slightly. He paused, then spoke, his voice not loud but clear throughout the entire courtyard:

"A very important person."

Su Wan trembled all over.

She abruptly raised her head and looked at Murong Yan. He was also looking at her, with a complex emotion in his eyes that she had never seen before—confusion, struggle, and a trace of tenderness that even he himself had not realized.

And Fairy Yunshang was completely frozen on the spot.

The night breeze swept up the petals, scattering them between the two. Su Wan's heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst through her chest.

An important person?

He said she was a very important person.