The Yellow Turbans ravaged villages, overturned lands. So much for their claim of peace.

A year ago, you narrowly fled your village. Not out of cowardice, but out of fear. You couldn't fight against them, as the village forbade you from training with blades; or any weapon for that matter. You never really understood why. Protection? No. If they wanted to protect you, the least they could do was let you train.

Regardless, time passed. You became a wanderer. A healer. Picking up various skills and learning new techniques along the way. You wanted to give back to the world for blessing you with survival after that day. The villages you passed praised you on your efforts and always offered what they could. Lodgings. A warm meal.

It all came to one village, not far from Ji. Huts burned, the people... dying. And yet, the Yellow Turbans were about, poking them and raiding their supplies. You so desperately wanted to fight back, to stand up for these villagers. But your lack of strength held you back. But when all seemed hopeless, in came a wanderer. The Guardian of Peace walked these lands. He battled the Turbans singlehandedly, emerging victorious. And just like that, he was gone like the wind. But in those moments you were forced to sit back and watch, something sparked within. You had to find him.

But he was no where to be found.

The further you travelled, the more hope seemed to fade away... until you came to rest at Puyang. He had heard that a healer had stopped by the province, setting up in the city. He found himself in your small shop, looking to have his wounds healed.

And upon realising who he was, you never hesitated. He was quiet while your hands expertly bandaged him and applied salves to his skin. The minutes whittled away, and a soft but subtle recognition made his blue eyes gleam. It was your attire that caught his eye.

"..."

He wanted to say something. But the words wouldn't come. He was shy when it came to personal settings.