Morning in Holy Spirit Village was always the same — roosters crowing, the smell of fresh bread from Old Ma's oven, and the sound of villagers starting their chores.
Ayan was carrying a bucket of water from the well when Tang San approached, bamboo practice sticks in hand.
"Training today?" Tang San asked.
"Of course," Ayan replied, setting the bucket down. "But you look… distracted."
Tang San shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the ground. "It's nothing."
Ayan smirked, immediately knowing. "Still thinking about the lake?"
Tang San froze, his ears instantly turning red. "I'm not—"
"Yes, you are," Ayan interrupted, leaning in with a teasing grin. "The way you're avoiding my eyes says it all."
Tang San groaned. "We shouldn't have been there. If they caught us—"
"They didn't," Ayan said simply, picking up one of the sticks. "Besides, a little curiosity is normal. Just means you're alive."
Tang San sighed, but didn't argue further. They went to the open field near the village's edge and began sparring. Ayan noticed that Tang San's movements were sharper today, but his concentration wavered whenever Ayan smirked at him mid-swing.
At one point, Tang San tripped over his own feet. Ayan stepped back, laughing. "Wow, that was graceful. Were you imagining the lake again?"
Tang San picked himself up, glaring but with the hint of a smile. "One day, you're going to get us in trouble."
"Maybe," Ayan replied, tossing him the other stick. "But it'll be worth it."
By the time they finished training, Tang San's expression had returned to its usual calm — but Ayan caught him glancing toward the forest more than once as they walked home.
Guess I left an impression, Ayan thought, amused.