Yu Bin. Immortal Of Water Land

Chapter 10: Shadows Beneath the Blossoms

The morning began with the golden hush of sunrise spilling across the rooftops of the Water Palace. Dew clung to every blossom on the cherry trees, catching the light and scattering it in glittering bursts across the training yard. A pair of birds chirped from a rooftop as if commenting on the serenity of the world below. But the calm had no effect on Yu Bin.

She stood alone at the center of the courtyard, arms crossed, expression tight with growing frustration. Her long hair, half-bound in silken blue ribbons, fluttered in the breeze, and the silver embroidery on her training robes shimmered like moving water.

“Master Bao Fang is late. Again.” Her voice broke the silence like a dropped coin in a quiet hall.

She turned sharply, pacing, boots brushing against the stone tiles. It had been just over a week since her formal training began—an endeavor her mother deemed ‘essential’ for her future. So far, all it had taught her was how to endure endless hours of repetitive motion, how to correct posture, and how to control breath.

Nothing close to the majestic sword dances she had imagined. No rooftop acrobatics, no secret techniques passed down in whispers. Just balance, breathing, and standing still until her knees screamed.

She was about to mutter another complaint when soft footsteps sounded along the pathway. Bao Fang emerged into the courtyard, composed as always. Her pale robes trailed behind her, her every movement deliberate and graceful. A sword rested across her back in a worn scabbard that seemed older than the palace itself.

“You’re restless,” Bao Fang said as she approached.

“I’m punctual,” Yu Bin retorted. “You’re late.”

Bao Fang raised a single brow. “You’ve been here twelve minutes. A warrior doesn’t measure time with a clock but with patience.”

Yu Bin opened her mouth, then shut it again. She knew it would only earn her another cryptic phrase.

“Take your position.”

Yu Bin moved into the starting stance, holding her wooden practice sword aloft. Bao Fang circled her slowly.

“Too tense,” she said, lightly tapping Yu Bin’s wrist. “You're controlling the sword with your arms again.”

“I’m trying.”

“Stop trying. Feel.”

The drill began. Bao Fang offered no further commentary—just the sound of her footsteps and the occasional tap of correction. Yu Bin flowed through the routines, each movement demanding more precision than the last. Sweat beaded on her brow, and more than once her foot slipped or her elbow twisted out of line.

It was exhausting. But it was something more than that, too. There were moments—brief, like flickers of flame—when her body moved without thought. When the world disappeared except for the weight of the sword and the silence of her breath.

After an hour, Bao Fang called a halt.

Yu Bin lowered her sword, panting. “What did I do wrong this time?”

“Less than yesterday.”

A small smile tugged at Yu Bin’s mouth. It was the closest to praise she had received so far.

Bao Fang turned her gaze toward the cherry trees. “Do you know why I agreed to train you?”

“Because my mother asked?” Yu Bin guessed, only half-believing it.

Bao Fang shook her head. “Because I saw a girl who didn’t understand the weight of what she carried. You burn like a flame, Yu Bin. Bright, but without direction. I want to see what happens when that fire is focused.”

Yu Bin stared at her. “You think I could be… good?”

“I think you could be great,” Bao Fang replied. “Or you could destroy everything around you. That is the nature of fire.”

Before Yu Bin could respond, a quiet cough interrupted them.

A servant bowed low. “Your Highness. Master Bao Fang. The Crown Prince requests the Princess’s presence in the east pavilion.”

Yu Bin sighed. “Let me guess. He wants to lecture me about something.”

Bao Fang’s lips twitched. “Go. Consider it another kind of training.”

Yu Bin wiped her forehead and offered a nod of respect. As she turned to leave, Bao Fang added softly, “Stay aware. The palace has many kinds of silence.”

---

The east pavilion overlooked a placid koi pond surrounded by marble columns and climbing vines. When Yu Bin arrived, Xian Chen was already there, leaning against one of the pillars, arms folded across his chest. He didn’t acknowledge her.

“You sent for me?” she asked, more curtly than she intended.

“You’re late,” he replied.

“I was training.”

“Didn’t seem to help your posture.”

She groaned. “Are you incapable of being polite?”

He turned finally, eyes meeting hers with that unreadable calm. “I came to apologize.”

Yu Bin blinked. “For what?”

“For calling you crazy. And annoying.”

“Is that an apology or another insult?”

“Both. It’s what you can expect from me.”

She huffed, folding her arms. “Why did you really call me here?”

Xian Chen was quiet for a beat. “Because I wanted to understand what kind of student she’s making you into.”

“You mean Bao Fang?”

He nodded. “She’s unpredictable. The stronger you become, the more dangerous you’ll be to yourself.”

Yu Bin studied him. “Are you always this dramatic?”

“I’ve known her longer than you,” he said simply. “And I know how she tests people.”

Yu Bin narrowed her eyes. “What kind of tests?”

Xian Chen didn’t answer. Instead, he walked toward the pond, his fingers skimming the stone railing.

“Training isn’t always about skill. Sometimes it’s about uncovering who you are beneath the skill.”

Yu Bin’s voice dropped. “And who am I?”

He turned and met her gaze. “I don’t know yet. But I think you’re trying very hard to convince everyone—including yourself—that you’re something you’re not.”

The words struck too close. She looked away.

“I don’t need your insight,” she muttered.

“No,” he said. “But you need someone to challenge it.”

She glared. “You think that someone is you?”

“I think it already is.”

They stood in silence, the koi below rippling through reflected light. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t angry either. It was something else—unspoken, uncertain, unfinished.

“You’re still annoying,” Yu Bin said at last.

He smirked. “And you’re still stubborn.”

She stepped back, drawing herself up. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you in training.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, she turned and left.

High above, unseen among the branches of a cherry tree, Bao Fang watched the entire exchange. Her expression remained impassive, but her eyes lingered.

Not far from her, hidden even deeper in the shadows, stood another figure.

Longwei.

He watched not with curiosity, but with familiarity. His long white hair stirred in the breeze, and his pale blue eyes glowed faintly with recognition.

“Still clumsy,” he murmured to himself.