The young master sat curled up, hugging his knees, face buried against them. His long, dark hair slipped down his back, revealing a glimpse of pale, slender nape.
Chu Xiangtian’s fingers twitched—he almost reached out to touch that exposed skin, but held himself back.
The young master had his head down and didn’t look very happy.
Of course Wen Tian wasn’t happy. He had finally worked up the courage to hit someone, only to find that the other person came out completely unscathed while he was the one left hurting.
The frustration and pain stirred up a flood of bad memories, and once that gloomy mood took hold, it refused to go away. He didn’t want to talk or acknowledge anyone.
All he wanted was to be alone in silence.
Chu Xiangtian stared at that fuzzy head for a while, thinking he might’ve made the boy cry again. A rare pang of regret flashed through him.
As he blanked out staring at that little swirl of hair, something occurred to him. He rummaged around in his robes and pulled out a small red wooden ball.
The ball was made of polished rosewood, about the size of a baby’s fist, but the craftsmanship was stunning.
Each of its six sides was carved with a rabbit—some standing upright and peeking about, some rolling playfully mid-pounce—each one vividly lifelike, as if they could hop away at any second.
One rabbit, ears perked up in alertness, bore a strange resemblance to Wen Tian. Chu Xiangtian had bought it the moment he saw it.
“Wanna see a magic trick?” he said.
With one leg bent and the other stretched out, Chu Xiangtian rolled the red ball between his fingers. It gleamed warmly under the light, smooth and lustrous like jade.
Wen Tian lifted his head, eyes full of confusion, his voice muffled and stuffy.
“What magic trick?”
“Here, take a look.” Chu Xiangtian placed the little ball into his palm, tilting his chin in a ‘go on, try it’ kind of way.
Wen Tian rolled the ball around curiously. It was adorable, yes, but didn’t seem all that special. He looked up, clearly puzzled.
Chu Xiangtian smirked, took the ball back, and waved it in front of his face. “Watch carefully. No blinking.”
Naturally, Wen Tian blinked.
Chu Xiangtian placed the ball in his palm, then tapped lightly on its surface with his other hand. In an instant, the smooth, round ball crumbled into a neat pile of wooden slivers.
Wen Tian’s eyes widened.
“Keep watching.” Chu Xiangtian smiled. He scooped the pieces onto the hem of his robe, and his fingers danced like a magician’s.
In no time, the fragmented wooden slivers were reassembled into the perfect red ball once more.
Wen Tian leaned in curiously, taking the ball and turning it in his hands. The surface was flawless—no visible seams. But the rabbits were doing different things now.
The rolling rabbit now had the ball balanced on its head, and the one with upright ears now had one drooping slightly.
“How did you do that?” He tapped the ball the way Chu Xiangtian did, but nothing happened.
“Want to learn?” Chu Xiangtian leaned a bit closer.
Wen Tian nodded, eyes sparkling, completely absorbed.
“This is a modified Luban Ball,” Chu Xiangtian said, settling down behind him. He pressed his chest lightly against Wen Tian’s back, guiding his finger to a specific spot on the ball.
“You’ve got to tap right here, with just the right pressure.”
Wen Tian tried, but the ball stayed solid. He turned to look at Chu Xiangtian in confusion—only to find Chu Xiangtian lowering his head at the same time.
Their eyes met at close range, and for a second, they could feel each other’s breath.
Wen Tian’s ears flushed scarlet. He turned away abruptly, shrinking his neck slightly.
“It’s not working,” he mumbled.
“I’ll show you…” Chu Xiangtian narrowed his eyes playfully, taking Wen Tian’s hand and guiding it to tap the spot again.
This time, a tiny wooden piece popped out and fell onto Wen Tian’s lap.
Wen Tian quickly picked it up, using the motion as an excuse to wriggle out of Chu Xiangtian’s hold and scoot a little further away.
Why did he have to sit so close anyway?!
Now that the wooden ball was missing a piece, it had a visible opening.
Wen Tian examined it carefully and saw that the inside was made up of tightly interlocked joints, each piece fitting snugly with the next—cleverly crafted and intricately arranged.
After fiddling with it for a while, he managed to remove a few more pieces. Bit by bit, he got the hang of it, his movements growing more confident.
Within fifteen minutes, the once-pristine ball was reduced to a tidy pile of scattered wooden parts.
Wen Tian looked up at Chu Xiangtian, eyes gleaming with pride.
“I took it apart!”
Chu Xiangtian stroked his chin, offering genuine praise without holding back.
“Smart boy.”
And he meant it. This Luban ball was more complex than the typical design—Chu Xiangtian could assemble and disassemble it with ease only because he’d spent years handling intricate weaponry.
But Wen Tian had never seen one before and still managed to completely dismantle it in just a quarter of an hour. That wasn’t just clever—it was real talent.
Beaming from the compliment, Wen Tian narrowed his eyes in delight, every line of his face lit up with joy. Bowing his head, he began trying to reassemble the pieces.
Rebuilding it proved much harder than taking it apart. By the time the sky was awash with vivid sunset hues, he had only managed to restore half of it.
“No rush—take your time.” Chu Xiangtian reached out to ruffle his hair. Wen Tian bit his lip in concentration, still hunched over the puzzle.
Chu Xiangtian chuckled and, half helpless, began gathering the rest of the pieces to stop him from getting too obsessed.
Annoyed at being interrupted, Wen Tian glared up at him like a grumpy kitten.
Chu Xiangtian spread his hands.
“It’s dinner time.”
Only then did Wen Tian blink, as if waking from a trance. He quietly stood up, patted the dust off his clothes, and got ready to go.
Just as he moved, Chu Xiangtian grabbed his arm, leaned close, and whispered into his ear, “Don’t move.”
Then he leapt off the rooftop and landed lightly, arms outstretched.
“Jump. I’ll catch you.”
Wen Tian looked down, clearly terrified, and shook his head like a stubborn child. Spotting a servant passing by, he called out, “Bring me a ladder!”
The servant immediately sprang into action and returned shortly, setting up a ladder by the roof.
Wen Tian descended gracefully, step by step, and landed with a satisfied smile in front of Chu Xiangtian. Head tilted slightly upward, he beamed.
“Thanks for today.”
Chu Xiangtian, who had been all set to play the dashing hero: After the Spring Equinox, the gardens burst into bloom.
Winter’s shadow was finally swept away, and little Sifang Town was wrapped in a blanket of fragrant flowers.
Outside the city walls, the peach blossom groves stretched far and wide, turning the hillsides a sea of pink.
The townsfolk were busy preparing for the upcoming Festival of Flowers.
The twelfth day of the second month was the birthday of all blossoms—also called the Flower Festival. On this day, everyone, young and old, would go out to enjoy the spring scenery.
Unmarried girls would handcraft “Flower Deity Lanterns” and hang them on peach trees, praying for happiness and love.
Wen Tian, however, wasn’t very fond of festivals. Chin in palm, he sat sulking.
All he could think about was how loud it would be if every tree in that massive peach grove started talking.
The noise would drive him crazy. Worse still, he had to stay home and keep an eye on Wen Boli.
Every year around the Flower Festival, Wen Boli would claim to go to the temple for “spiritual cleansing” and seclusion for weeks.
Wen Tian, now living his second life, wouldn’t fall for that nonsense again. He was certain the man was sneaking off to see a lover.
So this year, he had to stay behind and keep watch.
But Wen Shuyue—still in high spirits after breaking off her engagement—was in a rare cheerful mood and insisted on dragging him along to pick out designs for their Flower Deity Lanterns.
With a deep, weary sigh, Wen Tian gave in and resigned himself to helping his sister with the crafting first.