"...honey-apple pie..."

  The words were a quiet, raspy mutter, spoken into the darkness of a small, unfamiliar room. A young man, who had been lost in a deep, feverish sleep for days, sniffed the air. The scent, warm and sweet, cut through the fog in his mind, pulling him back toward consciousness.

  Slowly, he opened his eyes. It was dark. Where am I? he thought, his mind a sluggish mess. How long have I been asleep? Where is...

  He scanned the room, his eyes struggling to adjust. A thin sliver of warm, golden light peeked from under the door, and with it came that familiar, comforting scent. The young man, Kun, slowly gathered what little strength he had. He used the wall behind him as a support, gritting his teeth as a wave of pain shot through his body, and managed to push himself into a sitting position on the bed.

  His first coherent thought was not for himself. Lin... where is she? Is she safe?

  He grunted, trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed to stand, but they wouldn't obey. He looked down and saw them for the first time: thick, clean bandages wrapped around his legs and arms, covering injuries he couldn't even remember getting.

  Let's try this again, he thought, a stubborn resolve cutting through his weakness. Using both the bed and the wall as support, his legs shaking violently, Kun tried his best to stand up. With another grunt, he did it. He stood, but weakly, his knees threatening to give out from under him. I need to find her, he thought, his entire focus narrowing to that single, desperate goal. Even in this unfamiliar place, his only thought was for the girl he wanted to protect.

  One step at a time, he used the wall as a crutch, his legs shaking with every movement as he got closer and closer to the door. The smell of freshly baked pie grew stronger, more pungent than ever. It wasn't just any honey-apple pie; it smelled distinct, a specific blend of cinnamon and sweet herbs he hadn't smelled in years. He remembered this scent.

  Miss Yinzi, he thought, a memory flashing through his mind: the kind orphanage director who had raised him, who gave him this exact, distinct-smelling pie—his favorite food growing up. Kun shook his head, a dry, humorless laugh escaping his lips. No way, he thought. The fever must be getting to me. There's no way she's here.

  He finally reached the door handle and, with a final, determined effort, swung it open. What awaited him was a clean kitchen space, lit by a warm lantern, and two women cooking together, side by side.

  "So..." Kun said, the words escaping his mouth before he could stop them, his voice a raw, disbelieving whisper. "Who baked the honey-apple pie?"

  The two women turned their heads around, stopping whatever they were doing. Their eyes went wide with shock.

  "Kun!" Lin and Miss Yinzi gasped in unison.

  Before he could process it, he felt something collide with his chest, sending him stumbling back against the doorframe. The girl with silver eyes and blue hair had tackled him, wrapping her arms around him in a desperate hug.

  "Owww, it hurts," he groaned, his voice weak. "What are you doing to an injured man?" He looked down at the girl who was now clinging to his chest.

  "Hic..." Tears were filling her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. "I... I thought... you would never wake up... I was... hic... so worried," she sobbed, her words a jumbled, ugly cry. "Please don't do that again."

  A small, tired smile touched Kun's lips. He weakly raised a bandaged arm and hugged her closer. "I promise," he whispered. "I'm here." He took a deep breath, his nose buried in her hair. "You reek of sweat, by the way."

  An irritated pang shot through Lin's grief.

  Slap.

  A powerful slap, delivered with surprising force, landed squarely on Kun's face.

  "Oww! What did you do that for?" he yelped, his head ringing.

  "Because you're rude!" she said angrily, pulling away from him, her face a mess of tears and fury. "Isn't there a better way to greet a girl after you wake up?"

  "Well, I'm sorry!" he countered, his own voice rising. "I just can't ignore the facts! And your snot is on my clothes!"

  "It is not!" she countered back, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

  Miss Yinzi just watched the scene unfold, a gentle, knowing smile on her face. Ahh, she thought. So you can make that face too, Kun. It seems you two really have found your way to each other.

  "Anyway," Kun said, his gaze shifting to the older woman. "Miss Yinzi... is that really you? Am I not dreaming?"

  "No, Kun," she said, her voice warm and full of a love he hadn't heard in years. "I am here. In the flesh."

  Kun reached out and pinched Lin's cheek, hard.

  Slap.

  Another slap, just as powerful as the first, landed on his other cheek.

  "Stop slapping me! I'm injured!" he cried out.

  "Well, you pinched my cheek first!" she yelled back.

  "You're supposed to pinch someone's cheek to make sure you're not dreaming, right?" he argued.

  "Your own cheek, not mine, you idiot!"

  Miss Yinzi let out a hearty laugh then, a sound so full of joy that it broke through the last of the tension. It was followed by a reluctant chuckle from Kun, and then a watery giggle from Lin. In that exact moment, the small, quiet cottage was filled with the sound of their shared, chaotic laughter.

  A few moments later, Lin stepped out of the bathroom, drying her damp, midnight-blue hair with a clean towel. She was wearing a simple, comfortable nightgown, a courtesy of Bob. At the small dining table, Kun was already seated, now wearing a new t-shirt and shorts, another gift from the kind merchant. Next to him, Miss Yinzi was setting down plates.

  In front of Kun was a feast. There were rows of food, all his childhood favorites that Miss Yinzi had cooked: savory meat buns, a hearty vegetable stew, and sweet, sticky rice cakes. But in the center of the table, one dish stood out. The honey-apple pie. And it had been made by Lin.

  "Miss Yinzi," Kun said, leaning over to the older woman with a conspiratorial whisper. "I think we should check for poison first. That pie was made by her, right?"

  He jolted in pain as Lin, who had just sat down next to him, stomped hard on his foot under the table.

  "Oh, sorry," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Didn't see your foot there. Hohoho."

  "Nonsense. Just try it, Kun," Miss Yinzi said, though even she looked a little unsure. "I watched her through the whole process. It should be fine... I think."

  Kun sighed dramatically. "Fine. Pass it to me."

  Lin cut a slice of the pie and placed it on his plate. Kun picked up his fork and, with the careful trepidation of a man disarming a bomb, took a small bite. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable.

  Then, to his own genuine surprise, he spoke. "Not bad," he said, taking another, larger bite. "It's certainly better than the sandwich from a year ago. I'm actually impressed." He turned and smiled at Lin.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  A deep blush spread across Lin's cheeks. "I'll take it," she said, looking down at her plate, unable to hide her own pleased smile.

  "Now then," Miss Yinzi said, clapping her hands together. "Let's start the feast, shall we? You're too skinny, Kun. You need to regain your strength."

  Both Kun and Lin nodded, and as they began to eat, a comfortable, peaceful silence settled over the small cottage. For the first time in what felt like forever, the two runaways were together again, sharing a meal.

  Later that night, after the last of the dishes had been cleaned and put away, Lin retreated to her guest room, a quiet exhaustion finally settling over her. In the kitchen, Miss Yinzi hummed softly as she wiped down the wooden table, the warm lantern light casting a gentle glow over the cottage.

  Kun, leaning heavily on the doorframe, approached her quietly. "May I help, Miss Yinzi?" he asked, his voice still a little weak.

  "No, dear," she replied without turning around, her voice full of a familiar, gentle warmth. "You need to rest. Let me handle this. It's just a simple cleaning, anyway."

  She turned and smiled at him, a smile he hadn't seen since he had left the orphanage all those years ago. Still the same smile, Kun thought.

  "Then... can we talk?" Kun asked, his expression turning serious.

  "Yes," she said, her smile not faltering. But as soon as Kun's face lit up with relief, she added, "Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will hear everything you want to say, Kun. You are still injured, and it is late. Please, get more rest." She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch firm but kind.

  "Alright, I understand. I will wait until tomorrow," Kun said, a small, understanding smile on his own face. "I can never talk back to you."

  Miss Yinzi's smile widened as she watched him slowly, carefully make his way back to his room. However, her heart ached, guessing what the young man wanted to talk to her about. I guess it's about time, she thought. I just hope he won't be too disappointed.

  The morning sun washed over the small room Kun was staying in. He woke up, groggy, the aches in his body a dull, constant reminder of his still-injured body. Today, he thought, a new resolve cutting through his exhaustion as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Today, I need to ask her.

  He slowly got to his feet, using the wall for support, and opened the door. In the main room, sitting at the small wooden table, was Miss Yinzi. But she wasn't alone.

  Sharing a cup of tea with her was a man he didn't recognize. He was a very large man, with a bushy grey beard and warm, sun-kissed skin.

  Who is this? Kun thought, his mind still a little fuzzy from sleep. Definitely not Lin. Unless... unless she can shapeshift.

  "Oh, dear Kun, you are awake," Miss Yinzi said, her voice warm and welcoming. "Do you want some tea?"

  "Gladly, Miss Yinzi," he replied, his eyes still fixed on the large man. "And you are?"

  “Oh, this is—” Miss Yinzi began.

  "Allow me, madam," the large man said, interrupting her gently before turning to Kun. "Hohoho! My name is Boban Said, but just call me Bob! Merchant extraordinaire from Zarateph! Anything you want, I have! Anyone you need, I know!" He offered a massive hand to Kun.

  Kun just stared at the hand, then back at the man's face. "Oh... oh, yeah. Phew," he said, a wave of relief washing over him. "I thought you were Lin for a second. She ate so much last night, I thought maybe she shapeshifted."

  "Hohoho!" Bob's laugh was a deep, booming sound that seemed to shake the entire cottage. "You are a funny boy! I like this one!"

  "Uh, thanks," Kun said, still a little bewildered. "Where is Lin, anyway?"

  "Your girlfriend is with Mila," Bob replied with a grin. "I heard she wanted to train. It seems Mila has taken a liking to her."

  "Who and what? And she is not my girlfriend," Kun replied, his confusion growing.

  “Mila is one of my caravan guards. I heard that girl wants to learn new ways to fight, hence the training. Are you planning to join them soon, boy?" Bob asked.

  "No, thanks," Kun said, shaking his head. "Not the fighting type. I'll leave that to the brutish girl."

  "He has never been one to start a fight," Miss Yinzi added, placing a cup of tea in front of Kun. "He wouldn't even hurt a mosquito."

  "Hohoho! I can see that from his frame." Bob laughed once again as he slapped Kun’s back, nearly making him choke on his tea.

  Kun's expression turned serious as he looked at Miss Yinzi. "So, Miss Yinzi, about yesterday..."

  Her own expression turned serious in return. Noticing the sudden shift in demeanor, Bob cleared his throat. "Oh, it seems like you two have some catching up to do," he said, standing up. "Some ancient history, I presume... Then, allow me to excuse myself." With a final, friendly nod, he quickly left the cottage, leaving the two of them alone.

  With Bob's presence gone, the air in the cottage grew heavy with unspoken words. Kun immediately, and with some difficulty, knelt before Miss Yinzi, pressing his forehead to the wooden floor.

  "Kun, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice a mixture of shock and pain.

  "I'm sorry, Miss Yinzi," he said, his voice muffled by the floorboards. "I never sent you any letters. I failed you. I'm sorry."

  "Failed me? Kun, get up." She tried to make him stand, but he resisted. "I have never, not for a single moment, thought that you have failed me."

  Kun looked up then, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "You told me to become a successful man in Jinlun. You gave me your savings, you taught me everything I needed. Yet still, I ended up as a janitor. I was too ashamed of myself. I... I never contacted you. I'm sorry."

  "Oh, Kun, my boy," she said, her voice a soft, gentle murmur as she finally pulled him up from the floor and into a chair. "I raised you since you were a baby. I raised you as if you were my son. You have never once failed me. Believe me." She looked at him, her eyes full of a fierce, maternal pride. "You grew up to be such a fine young man. You sacrificed yourself to save a girl who was lost about her own self. I am so, so proud of you. Please, stand tall. You are not a failure. You are my pride. I was concerned when you stopped sending me letters, undoubtedly so, but I never once thought you were a failure. Why would I ever raise you if I thought you were one?"

  "You're... you're not mad?" he asked, his voice a small, hopeful whisper. "You don't think I failed? I used up all your savings just to end up in a gutter."

  "I am mad," she said, her tone suddenly stern. "Not because you worked as a janitor, I would never. And as for that money, it was never a loan, young man. It was a prayer. A desperate hope that you would find a life better than the one I could no longer give you. I am mad because you stopped contacting me. You got me worried sick. And then you suddenly appear again, half-dead. You are giving this old lady a heart attack, young man." Her expression softened again, her hand gently caressing his cheek. "But you are never, ever a failure."

  "I'm sorry, Miss Yinzi," he whispered, the last of his defenses crumbling.

  "Oh, Kun... your safety is all I have ever cared about." She pulled him into a tight, warm hug. "Come here."

  And for the first time in years, Kun hugged her back, the familiar, comforting scent of honey and herbs a soothing balm on his bruised and battered soul. After a long moment, he pulled away, his expression serious once more.

  "Wait a minute," Kun said, his brow furrowed. "What did you mean by a 'desperate prayer,' Miss Yinzi? Didn't you send me away because I was too old for the orphanage? And why are you here, in Moulang?"

  Miss Yinzi let out a long, slow sigh, a pained expression on her face. "I guess... I never told you the full story, Kun. I'm sorry. This was my first lie to you."

  "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice quiet.

  "The orphanage... it lost its funding," she explained, her voice thick with old sorrow. "I had to send you away not because you were too old, but because it was going to be closed down. All the children were sent away. I'm sorry for lying, Kun." She looked at him, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I sent you to Jinlun because I genuinely hoped you could secure a fulfilling life in a big city. Moulang... this is my hometown. It's where I came back to after... after there was nothing left."

  Kun was silent for a long moment, processing the truth. "I see," he finally said, his voice soft. "I guess it must have been a difficult decision for you, too, Miss Yinzi."

  "It was," she whispered.

  "But... I think it was the right one," Kun said.

  Miss Yinzi looked at him, confused.

  "I don't know if fate exists or not," he continued, a small, genuine smile spreading across his face. "But if you hadn't sent me away... I never would have met her."

  Miss Yinzi looked at the boy she had raised, at the new, quiet strength in his eyes, and she smiled back, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Then you had better treasure her, Kun."

  "I do," he said, his voice full of a certainty he had never felt before. "And I always will."

  Miss Yinzi nodded, her heart full. Kids do tend to grow up when you are not looking, she thought.

  Later that night, the moon cast a soft, silver glow over the quiet village. On the front porch, Lin sat in silence, working the deep ache from her muscles after the day's brutal training.

  The cottage door opened softly, and Kun came out, carrying a warm blanket and a steaming cup of tea. He walked over and sat down beside her, draping the blanket over her shoulders to ward off the cool night air.

  "So, uh, how was the training?" he asked, handing her the tea.

  "Awful," she said, though a small smile touched her lips. "I think Mila is an even worse teacher than Master Lihua. One hundred squats, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred push-ups, and a ten-kilometer run, she said." She took a sip of the tea, its warmth a welcome comfort. "But... I did this of my own decision. It felt different."

  "Sounds like you're making progress," Kun said, his own voice quiet.

  "I guess I am," she replied, her gaze distant. "I can't stay useless and tied to my Core anymore. I have to move forward." She turned to him, her silver eyes studying his face in the fading light. "How about you?"

  "Not much going on," he said with a shrug. "Just catching up with Miss Yinzi. I don't even know where I want to go next. Can't keep staying here and being a burden to her."

  "I know," Lin said, her voice soft. "She's such a nice lady. I don't want to bring the chaos of Jinlun to this village either." She looked at him, a small, teasing smile on her face. "But now I know where you get it from, Kun."

  "Get what?" he asked, confused.

  "A secret," she said with a giggle.

  He just shrugged, a small smile on his own face. After a moment of comfortable silence, he asked, his voice a little quieter, "Once I'm healed... I'm heading back on the road. Any chance you'll... you know... leave me and walk a different direction?"

  "Nope," Lin replied instantly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  "Figures," he said, a wave of warmth spreading through his chest. "I guess we're stuck together now, for some reason."

  "Yep," she whispered.

  He wrapped an arm around her, and they shared the blanket, peacefully staring up at the moonlit sky, wondering where they’ll end up next.