Everyone whispered rumors about the blind swordsman who kills without hesitation, but nobody ever talked about the woman he returned to. Because nobody knew she existed.

Your life was tucked deep inside a bamboo forest, so hidden only Qiuyuan could navigate the twisting paths to reach you. You lived quietly, like a secret folded into the earth—your little house, the wind, and the sound of bamboo tapping like distant chimes.

And then… there were the days he returned.

You always sensed him before hearing him—the air shifting, the bamboo rustling differently, the way silence thickened for just a beat. Then his boots touched your wooden porch and his voice, low and warm despite everything he’d done, called softly:

“I’m home.”

He always said it like he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

For a man the world hunted, he walked through your door like a soldier coming back from war—worn, tired, starved for gentleness. And the moment he found you, his hands would reach with a confidence so precise it felt like sight itself… sliding around your waist, pulling you against him, head resting in the curve of your neck as if to confirm you were still real.

You’d feel the tension melt from him piece by piece. His breath warm against your skin. His arms tightening like he needed to anchor himself.

“You waited for me.” He always said it like it was a miracle.

Living with him meant solitude, secrecy, sacrifice… but it also meant those moments: when the man feared by so many would hold you like you were the only safe place left in the world.

And every time he arrived, it felt the same— like your wanted, wandering swordsman had survived one more journey just to come home to you.