Mystique Soul: A Cultivator's Flame
Chapter 111: Of Echoes and Shadows

Chapter 111: Of Echoes and Shadows

The midday sun spilled across the street like liquid gold, warming the cobblestones beneath Feng Jiao Xue’s feet. Yet she felt none of it.

Her breath caught.

Her heart skipped.

Her whole body froze as though she’d been pierced by invisible qi.

That voice. That face. Those eyes.

She turned around slowly, her fingers tightening around the edge of her sleeve.

He stood with sunlight at his back, casting a gentle glow around him as if heaven itself had chosen to soften his silhouette. Tousled chestnut brown hair, soft with that same boyish charm. The familiar glint of mischief in his gentle blue eyes. Round glasses slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. The white sanctunimous robe delicately embroidered with golden threads made him looks pure, as if he doesn’t belong in this dirty, crime riddled city, nor at the broken path, rowdy place, and simple place.

Mo Tianze stepped half a step in front of her instinctively, tail twitching behind him in agitation. His eyes narrowed with a quiet, protective tension as he subtly positioned his body between her and the stranger seeing her unease, her strange reaction.. "Who are you?"

’Is this the man she is looking for?’ He thought to himself as he observed the new comer. ’He doesn’t look like much’ He huffed inwardly in his mind in indignant. ’He looks like a wind could knock him down. Just a pretty face. His much better!’

The young man blinked at them innocently, then tucked the book under his arm and gave a polite smile. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t eerie. But it was unnervingly familiar. Painfully... familiar as the background faded for Feng Jiao Xue and turns into blazing inferno.

Suddenly, it felt hot... it felt... hurt... as if her body was back... back to that day that lives in her nightmares...

She fought off the tears that burns her eyes.

"Sister..." Mo Tianze held her hand firmly bringing her back, his eyes heatedly on hers, full of concern, full of worry and filled with helplessness as he doesn’t know how to help, how to make her feel better.

"Ah. My apologies," he said, bowing slightly at the waist. His voice was calm, smooth, like still water that hid deeper currents. "Lucien Caelum. A passing traveler, though I suppose I ought to say... a fellow wayfarer of curiosity. "

Feng Jiao Xue said nothing, still staring at him like a ghost had stepped out of a sealed tomb.

Lucien tilted his head slightly, then raised his palms. "I didn’t mean to startle either of you. I merely noticed the lady following me before and fate drawing us together. I simply felt compelled to come and speak to her. That is... unless I was interrupting something?"

He asked with a gentle smile, his eyes closing. He looks... harmless, yet it made Feng Jiao Xue’s heart ache and feel as if a hand held her beating heart along with her breath.

Feng Jiao Xue’s lips parted, her voice stuck somewhere between a whisper and memory. "Lucien...?"

He smiled at her. "Yes. And you are?"

Mo Tianze’s tail stilled completely, and he looked toward Feng Jiao Xue, a thread of concern tightening in his brow. He could feel her qi fluctuate, just slightly, but it was enough for him to sense that something about this man wasn’t right.

Still, she straightened slowly and said, with a faint breath, "Feng Jiao Xue."

Lucien nodded, as if the name had settled something for him. "A beautiful name. It suits you."

There was a pause. Mo Tianze folded his arms across his chest. His tail briskly swooshing behind him, ears perks and soft golden eyes turning into feral slits "What do you want?"

Lucien lifted his hands again in peace. "Nothing but conversation. I’ve only just arrived in the city myself and noticed the miss following me yesterday and the stars aligning to speak to me, telling me that I have fate entwined with this lady." His gaze drifted back to Feng Jiao Xue with that same soft smile. "Do we... know each other?"

"No" she said quickly, too quickly.

He didn’t flinch. "Ah. Then perhaps it’s fate playing games."

Feng Jiao Xue looked at his face, really looked, and saw all the minute differences. The way his smile lingered too long. The way his eyes sparkled with something warmer, more present than Lou Xi ever had. This man was here, now, real and aware. Not a phantom. Not a memory.

But why did it still feel like she was looking at him? Trying to find... him.

Lucien tucked the book under his arm, his eyes twinkling with something unreadable. "You seemed troubled earlier. If I may be so bold... would you join me for a cup of tea? Just down the street. There’s a quiet little place I frequent. A moment of rest might help ease your thoughts."

Mo Tianze opened his mouth, clearly about to object but stopped when Feng Jiao Xue lifted a hand.

"...Alright," she said quietly, her voice calm despite the storm roiling underneath.

Lucien smiled again, brighter this time. "Excellent. This way, then."

And as they began to follow him, Mo Tianze still at her side, Feng Jiao Xue didn’t look back but her mind was racing.

’Lou Xi, is this... really you?’ A small hope bloomed in Feng Jiao Xue’s heart as they walked together.

Mo Tianze’s eyes never leaving the new comer. His nose twitch once in a while. He doesn’t smell danger from this stranger. In fact, it smells... light, of flowers and fresh, beautiful mornings. But his beast side recoils from this man.

He doesn’t care who he is. All that matters to him is that this man is causing Feng Jiao Xue distress and he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that at all.

Mo Tianze’s tail flickers in displeasure as his nose scrunched cutely in distaste at the gentle man.

Lucien guided them to a small, wood-paneled teahouse that was easy to overlook unless you knew it was there. It was situated between a spice vendor’s booth and a cobbler’s corner. It was silent inside. The air was calmed by the low hum of whispered voices and the dim glow of paper lanterns overhead.

Mo Tianze lingered at the entrance, sharp eyes sweeping over the room like a wary shadow. Lucien, noticing, smiled politely and gestured to the third cup the server brought over.

"Your companion is welcome to join," he offered.

Mo Tianze looks at Feng Jiao Xue with a small shake of his head.

Feng Jiao Xue understood what he means. This way, he woild easily be able to protect him if his already ready to strike.

"He prefers to stand" Feng Jiao Xue replied simply, tone neutral, but not cold. She turned her attention back to Lucien, fingers curling around the delicate porcelain.

He hummed thoughtfully, setting his cup down. "So... do you live here in the city?"

"No. Just passing through."

"Ah. A traveler like myself, then." Lucien leaned back slightly, his posture comfortable, inquisitive. "Where do you come from, if I may ask?"

Feng Jiao Xue tilted her head slightly. "The north. Farther than most care to map." She replied cassually, the lie easily rolling off of her tongue.

He gave an exaggerated shiver. "That explains the calm in your eyes. Northern winters forge tough people."

She let out a breath, neither a laugh nor a sigh but she didn’t correct him. "Not that far north" she simply replied vaguely not telling him where exactly on the north.

Then she glanced at his tea. "You like your tea plain?"

Lucien nodded. "Always have. Sugar ruins the texture, and milk is a betrayal of the leaves."

Feng Jiao Xue’s fingers paused around her cup.

Lou Xi used to drown his tea in honey and say it was for his soul.

She smiled faintly. "That’s... an odd thing to be particular about."

"I like particular things," he replied easily. "Patterns. Constants. I guess I’m a creature of habit."

Her voice came softer now. "What’s your favorite color?"

Lucien didn’t hesitate. "Silver. It’s cool, elegant. Reminds me of moonlight on water."

Silver.

Lou Xi had once said "indigo," because it was the color of ink on his favorite journal, and he liked the way it bled into paper.

"That’s nice. I personally, also prefers silver over gold. Far more beautiful and subtle than the brilliant gold. Much like the moon." Feng Jiao Xue replied conversionally. "It burrows the light from the sun to light up the sky, yet surrounded by many stars, sharing the sky instead of shinning on its own."

Lucien smiled kindly at that. "How poetic. That’s a beautiful way of seeing it. "

She smiled gently, easily disarming those that sees her beautiful and innicent look, years of wearing a mask not showing the slightest crack in her facade, "What do you think of the moon?"

Lucien leaned back, gaze thoughtful. "Lonely. Constant. Beautiful. Always out of reach, and yet we always look up to find it, don’t we?"

Her heart skipped a beat.

Lou Xi once said that too. That the moon was like her, cold, beautiful, and too far away.

"I suppose" Feng Jiao Xue hummed as she looked at her cup. "People always longs" her hand tightened on the tea cup "always dreams" she looks at her reflection in the tea with a bitter smile, "and often dreams, of things they can’t have"

"Speaking, of moons. I heared that the Goddess of Hell only appears when it rises" She looked up again, her bitter smile, as if it never existed, appearing sweet and naive once more making Lucien miss it.

Lucien tilted his head as if searching the shelves of memory. "The Goddess of Hell? Ah, you must mean the Goddess of Darkness. She’s said to be one of the oldest deities. She’s not worshiped by righteous people. But, she is worship bh the denizen of darkness. Most people associate her with fear, misfortune, death, even."

He traced the rim of his teacup with a thoughtful finger.

"There are stories, whispered in border towns and old places no one visits anymore. They say she walks through dreams, veiled in midnight, and speaks only to the cursed and condemned. Some claim she steals the souls of those who stray too far into shadowed places, others say she grants forbidden power to those desperate enough to ask."

He hesitated before adding "In one version I read, she was blamed for a plague that wiped out half a province centuries ago. They said she took offense to a shrine being torn down. But it’s likely the plague came from trade ships. Still, people love their monsters."

A pause.

"And yet," he went on, voice quieter now, "there are stories buried deeper, older. Ones that speak of her not as a monster, but a guardian. The protector of lost souls and broken things. They say her silence is not cruelty, but mourning. That she watches from the dark, hoping to be remembered not with fear but reverence."

He looked up at Feng Jiao Xue. "Of course, those are harder to find. Most people burn such stories."

Feng Jiao Xue simply smiles at that. "You seem familiar with such myths. It’s rather ’dark’ isn’t it. Much like the Black Rose."

"Ah yes" Lucien chuckled softly. "It’s beautiful in its own way, don’t you think? A flower that doesn’t need sunlight. Something that grows because of death, not in spite of it. It is said to grow in the dark woods, a rose that rarely sprouts where powerful, dark beasts dies, nurtured by their corpse and watered by their blood."

A moment passed, and Lucien tilted his head. "You seem... disappointed. Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she said quietly. "Not wrong. Just not... what I expected."

Lucien gave a light laugh, not pressing further. "Well, I suppose I’ll have to try harder next time."

She looked at him, really looked.

Same face. Same smile. Same soft hair and warm blue eyes behind crooked glasses. And yet...

It wasn’t him.

Lou Xi was gone. This was just a stranger with his face.

She looked down into her tea, eyes unreadable.

And somewhere deep within her, something cold and aching stirred.

’It’s not him’