Chapter 310: Make A Path
I pushed the needle through the fabric one last time before setting the embroidery hoop carefully on the arm of the chair.
Cocking my head to the side, I looked toward him. "I was never really into watching, but I guess to each their own."
Lingyun’s page stopped turning as he looked up at me, a wicked grin on his face as if he was already planning something.
Yuche remained beside the window, one hand resting against the frame while he studied the men outside. His expression hadn’t changed much, but there was something sharper in the way he held himself now. The quiet softness he carried inside the hobby room had disappeared beneath the man who had survived by noticing every little detail.
"The ones watching are wearing Gu Han’s colors," he muttered, letting me know what was going on outside. I just didn’t understand why I was supposed to care about it. "They’re spread between the workers’ houses where the plants won’t notice them immediately, and none of them are trying to help the people attacking us."
I glanced toward the window, although I still couldn’t see much from where I sat. The occasional flash of movement passed between the leaves outside, followed by another burst of gunfire and a scream that sounded as though someone had finally learned why walking into a carnivorous garden was a bad idea.
"So they’re cowards," I replied with a shrug.
"They’re patient," Yuche corrected, turning away from the window to look at me. "There’s a difference."
"Not much of one."
The corner of his mouth moved slightly, but his attention returned to the road. "They’re probably waiting to see who wins. If we lose, they’ll move in afterward and take whatever is left. If we win, they learn how we fight, what the plants can do, and where our weaknesses are."
Lingyun closed his manga around one finger before sitting up on the rug. The easy stillness he had carried for most of the afternoon was gone, but he didn’t look worried.
Instead, he looked interested.
I shook my head. Those outside weren’t going to know what hit them.
Yuche continued watching the houses across the road. "Gu Han may also be waiting for us to become desperate enough to accept his help. He gets to watch another group weaken us, then step in at the end and pretend he saved the mansion."
I slowly nodded as the pieces settled into place.
That sounded like the kind of plan someone would make when they believed every problem could be solved by convincing people that they needed him. Gu Han had offered protection, I had refused, and now a different group had conveniently arrived at my gate while his men hid nearby.
He wanted me frightened.
Or tired.
Or grateful.
Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t any of those things.
Lingyun placed the manga facedown on the rug and rose to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head, then rolled his shoulders as though preparing for exercise instead of a fight.
"Then let’s make this show a good one," I said as Yuche’s gaze shifted toward me.
The look on his face was quiet, but I knew what it meant. He was waiting to see what I wanted, not because he needed permission to protect me, but because he understood that this was my home and my decision.
That still felt strange sometimes.
In my first life, people had made choices around me, over me, and eventually against me. Even after returning, I had spent most of my time assuming that anyone who offered help was only waiting for the moment when they could take control.
Yuche never seemed interested in taking anything from me.
He simply waited.
Lingyun moved toward the door, but I stood before either of them could leave. I crossed the room, stepped into the hallway, and waited until they joined me before pulling the door closed.
The lock clicked beneath my fingers and I let out a sigh of relief.
This room was mine and I refused to share it with anyone I didn’t want to.
I wasn’t going to let armed strangers, hidden spies, or anyone else turn it into another place where the outside world followed me.
When I turned around, Yuche was waiting a few steps away. Lingyun stood near the top of the stairs, watching us with an expression that was far too calm for someone about to set people on fire.
"What do you think we should do?" I asked Yuche.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Lingyun looked between us but, for once, kept his mouth closed.
I almost took the question back.
I didn’t usually ask anyone else to decide what happened next. That was how people ended up believing they had authority they had never been given.
But this was different.
Yuche understood me.
More importantly, I trusted him to make a decision without confusing that trust for control. It was nice, for once, not to be the only person responsible for choosing every step before we took it.
Yuche studied my face for a moment, as though checking whether I genuinely wanted his answer.
Whatever he saw on it made him move closer. "If they want to see us in action, we show them exactly enough to make them afraid," he replied. His voice remained calm, but something colder settled beneath the words. "We make it brutal. We make it bloody. We let them watch long enough to understand that stepping onto this property means dying."
"And the surprises?" Lingyun asked as he leaned one shoulder against the wall.
Yuche glanced toward him. "We keep a few."
A grin slowly spread across Lingyun’s face. Flames rolled over both of his hands, lighting the hallway with a warm orange glow. The fire curled around his fingers and wrists without touching his clothes, growing brighter as the shouting outside moved closer.
Yuche lifted one hand.
Metal shifted somewhere below us with a low scraping sound. A moment later, a long metal bat flew up the stairwell and landed neatly in his palm. He rested it across one shoulder as though he had carried it there himself.
I looked between the two of them.
The men outside had no idea what they were walking toward.
That almost made me feel sorry for them.
Almost.
We started down the stairs together, with Lingyun’s fire casting moving shadows across the walls and Yuche walking close enough that his arm brushed mine whenever the staircase narrowed.
Another burst of gunfire sounded outside.
By the time we reached the foyer, Zhou Chenghai was standing beside the front door with one hand resting against the frame. His attention was fixed on the road beyond the glass, and the hard set of his jaw suggested that he had already decided the people outside were a problem.
"They’re blocking Zhenlan’s way home," he said as he turned toward us.
I shrugged. "Oh," I said at last. Mostly because it seemed like Zhou Chenghai needed me to say something.
Then I looked toward the front door.
"Let’s make a path."
