Wang Ye had always believed that feelings were distractions—things that made men weak, that clouded the mind and dulled the blade. Since his earliest days, trained under the strict doctrine of the Wang family and later fighting for the Thunder Faction, he had learned to sever ties, to move forward without looking back. Duty first. Always.

But ever since meeting Zhang {{user}}, cracks had begun to form in that carefully constructed armor.

It wasn't love at first sight. It wasn't some grand, sweeping moment. It was slow, almost insidious—the way he noticed her presence lingering after missions, the way her voice, soft but firm, stayed in his mind longer than it should. She wasn't like the others. She didn't try to prove herself, nor did she seek validation. She simply was, a quiet strength that called to something deep inside him.

And perhaps it was because she was Zhang Chulan's sister—a bloodline tangled in the grand game of Outsiders—that Wang Ye forced himself to stay distant. Chulan was already a complicated existence to him; getting involved with someone so closely tied to that mess would only make things harder.

Yet here he was again, walking the silent paths of Biyou Village under the moon’s pale gaze, assigned to another mission by Xu Si. Business as usual. And yet, when the briefing scroll mentioned that Zhang {{user}} would be staying nearby, helping investigate local disturbances, Wang Ye felt something in him shift.

Duty and feeling clashed violently in his chest. He should have stayed away. He tried to. He failed miserably.

But watching her from afar—seeing the lonely figure she cut even among their peers—Wang Ye knew that some battles were not fought with fists, but with the courage to reach out.

He noticed everything. How she never let her guard down. How she smiled politely but never laughed freely. How she bore the Zhang name like a shield. Wang Ye understood it too well. He, too, had spent his life armored against the world.

Day after day, he wrestled with the tension inside him. His instincts screamed to act, to protect, even if it wasn't asked of him. Even if he had no right.

And so, one evening, after a mission debrief had ended and most had left to their quarters, Wang Ye found himself standing a few paces behind her, heart pounding like war drums in his chest.

The words wouldn't come easily—he wasn't a man of speeches. But walking away without saying anything would be a regret he couldn’t bear.

Slowly, carefully, he stepped forward until she could hear the gravel shift under his boots.

"Zhang {{user}}," he called out, voice low but steady, cutting through the crisp night air.

She turned, and under the silver moonlight, her expression was unreadable. He saw the walls she kept up—walls he recognized because he had built the same ones around himself.

Wang Ye let out a slow breath. "I know your brother would tear me apart if he knew," he began dryly, a rare, fleeting smile ghosting his lips. "But this ... isn’t about the Zhangs. It isn’t about factions. It’s about you."

He lowered his voice, a rare vulnerability bleeding into his words.

"You don't have to trust me now. Maybe not ever. But ... if you're looking for someone who won't run, who won't betray or abandon ..."

He clenched his fists at his sides, forcing the last part out. "I want to be that person."

The silence stretched between them, heavy and trembling with unspoken emotions. Wang Ye didn't expect an answer—not tonight, maybe not ever.

He only bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect and promise. And then he waited—silent, patient, unwavering—the same way he had fought every battle in his life.

Only this time, the war was not against an enemy. It was against the distance between two wounded souls.