The sky remained grey as they stood at the edge of the valley, facing the wind.The breeze carried the scent of damp earth and morning leaves—as if the world itself was holding its breath,watching four seeds preparing to grow in different directions.
Lu Wen stood at the front.His young face looked older than his years,with faint lines beneath eyes as clear as spring water.His black hair, usually combed neatly back, now had a single strand falling over his brow, caught by the wind.His skin was pale—not from weakness,but from having long distanced himself from the heat of the world.His frame was slim, not muscular,yet a quiet strength lived in the way he stood: calm, balanced, unmoved.He gazed eastward,toward the bamboo forest that trembled ever so slightly.Within his chest, Yuanqi pulsed gently,as if listening to the sound of leaves.
"Clarity never shouts," he thought."It simply… is."
San Lie, to the south, was a stark contrast.A sharp face with prominent cheekbones and eyes that always seemed to peer deeper than the world allowed.His skin was darker, scorched by years of wandering.His hair fell long and untamed, partly tangled,with a thin beard growing unevenly on his chin.But his eyes—those eyes—were still, honest, and unshakable.His gaze faced southwest,toward the barren plains where the earth cracked and the air growled—the place he once lived, inside chaos.Now, with each steady breath,he sought to harmonize with that dryness.
"You cannot calm the world," he thought."But you can steady your own steps."
Lao Wen stood to the north.The eldest among them—not upright, but steadfast,like an old stone worn by years of rain.His face bore wrinkles across his brow and around his eyes,but his gaze was clear as a newborn morning.He wore a thin mustache that followed the curve of his rarely seen smile.White strands had begun to thread through his hair,and his eyes—soft green like damp moss—reflected the peace of one who has accepted time.A thick wool robe cloaked his body,and in his hand was a wooden staff he'd carved himself from a dead tree in the valley.He looked toward the mountains,where heavy clouds hung.He knew—the path upward was also the path inward.
"Do not rush to reach the peak," he thought."Climbing begins with understanding the ground beneath you."
Li Rou glanced at the three of them one by one,then took a soft breath.She stepped southeast,toward the valley of wildflowers now brimming with life.Her face was serene, with wide eyes that always seemed slightly tearful—not from sorrow,but from being too attuned to the world.Her hair was tied high,with loose strands caressing her cheeks.Her skin was like young tea leaves—soft, resilientand her body slender yet strong,shaped by years of breathing practice and inner refinement.She spoke the least,but in her silence resonated the deepest harmony.She did not walk quickly,but each movement flowed in rhythm with the breath of the earth.
"Flowers do not bloom by command," she thought."They bloom because they know… when it is time."
Now the four stood at the four cardinal points.
Ganjing had opened the path for themnot through power,but through honesty.In their silence, Yuanqi trembled softlynot like waves crashing,but like echoes across still water.
They parted—not by command,but because the world itself had called each of them in a different direction.
And Heng Zhen, from afar, closed his eyes for a moment.
"The seeds have grown," he thought."Now let them hear the wind in their own way."