Chapter 317: Much Better
The accusation should not have been amusing, especially with explosions tearing through the road below them, but Zhenlan felt a smile slowly pull at the corner of his mouth.
Rouxi noticed immediately. Her eyes narrowed as she shifted closer, clearly unwilling to let him enjoy the conversation without explaining himself.
"Why are you smiling?" she demanded, her cheeks puffing out just a little.
"Because you’re accusing me of hiding the weather." His gaze moved over her face, lingering on the stubborn set of her mouth before returning to her eyes. "I didn’t realize atmospheric pressure needed to be formally disclosed."
"You were hiding it," Rouxi insisted, lifting one hand toward the burning wreckage as though it proved her entire argument. "You kept using wind until someone shot at me, and then suddenly there was lightning. Now things are exploding, and you’re telling me you can control pressure too."
"I wasn’t hiding anything." Zhenlan’s smile deepened when she gave him a look that made it clear she believed exactly none of that. "You assumed my power was air, and I didn’t know you had classified it incorrectly."
Rouxi stared at him for another moment before giving a slow, disbelieving nod. "That sounds exactly like something someone would say after being caught."
The certainty in her voice made it impossible for him to stop smiling.
Of course, someone had to interrupt the sweetest conversation he and Rouxi had shared since he’d been reborn.
A second attacker pulled a grenade from one of the broken crates and threw it toward the plants. Zhenlan caught it inside a pocket of compressed air before it could cross the boundary, holding it suspended above the road long enough for Yuche to notice.
Yuche barely needed to move. The grenade shot backward under his control and landed at the feet of the men crowded around the remaining crates.
Lingyun threw up a wall of fire as the explosion tore through them, curving the flames away from the mansion and keeping the blast from touching the nearest plants. By the time the fire dropped, several bodies lay scattered around the shattered boxes.
Lingyun turned toward the porch and bowed with one arm swept dramatically across his waist.
Rouxi rewarded him with a small wave.
The delight that spread across Lingyun’s face would have embarrassed anyone else. He accepted it as though she had presented him with a medal before turning back toward the men still trapped among the vehicles.
The woman with the shaved head watched the exchange with growing horror. Her wrist remained caught inside one of Rouxi’s vines, and every attempt to pull free only tightened its hold.
"What are you?" she demanded.
Rouxi leaned more comfortably against the railing. "Busy."
Zhenlan’s attention remained on her while the woman struggled to understand how Rouxi could dismiss the chaos surrounding them with a single word.
His gaze drifted toward Lingyun, who was still visibly pleased by the small wave Rouxi had given him. It had lasted no more than a second, yet he carried her attention with him as though she had handed him the entire world.
Yuche was no different. He rarely asked Rouxi for anything beyond permission to remain close to her. He had simply found a place beside her, learned what made her comfortable, and made himself part of the life she was creating inside the mansion.
Neither man seemed bothered by how little affection Rouxi displayed or how rarely she put her feelings into words. They understood that every glance, every quiet conversation, and every moment she allowed them into her space meant more than anything she could have announced in front of a crowd.
Zhenlan had understood that too.
He simply hadn’t acted like it.
Whenever the distance between him and Rouxi began to narrow, he found another responsibility demanding his attention. There were patrol routes to organize, survivors to speak with, supplies to count, and a neighborhood slowly growing around the mansion that required someone to think about what came next.
He had told himself those things were necessary.
Perhaps they were.
But they had also given him somewhere to hide.
He could leave the mansion for hours, bury himself beneath practical concerns, and pretend he was giving Rouxi the space she wanted. Then he could return and silently expect her to understand that he had never intended to leave permanently.
Rouxi would never ask him to stay closer.
She wouldn’t admit she had noticed his absence, much less tell him that it bothered her. Even her comment about him moving out had been disguised as a joke, delivered lightly enough that she could dismiss it if he reacted badly.
But it had landed because there had been enough truth behind it to hurt.
Zhenlan had already chosen her when she forced him and Chenghai to decide between her and the supplies. At the time, he had told himself the answer was practical. The mansion was secure, the resources were already there, and abandoning everything they had built would have been foolish.
Standing beside her now, he admitted that practicality had only been part of it.
He had chosen Rouxi.
The supplies had never truly stood a chance.
More importantly, choosing her once wasn’t enough if every decision he made afterward suggested something outside the mansion mattered more.
If he wanted a place beside her, he would have to show her that he intended to remain there. Not by taking control again or making decisions in her name. He had already learned exactly how much damage that would cause.
He would show her by returning.
By staying when there was no emergency to solve.
By seeking her out when he had nothing useful to offer except his company.
By choosing to stand beside her even when she didn’t need him there.
The wind shifted before he could examine the realization any further, bringing with it the disturbance of several bodies moving quickly through the western side street.
Zhenlan turned his head, following the change in pressure through the narrow space between the buildings. Eight men were running along the side of the property, using the burning vehicles and the fighting in the road to hide their movements.
"They’re trying to circle around the western side," he murmured, keeping his attention on the air moving between the houses. "There are eight of them."
Rouxi followed his gaze toward the side street, the last traces of amusement disappearing from her face as she considered what the men were attempting.
Zhenlan could have acted immediately.
In the past, he would have done exactly that. He would have removed the threat before Rouxi fully understood it existed, then convinced himself he had protected her by making the decision on her behalf.
Instead, he waited.
He gave her the information and allowed her to decide what happened next.
Rouxi studied the side street for several seconds before looking up at him. There was no suspicion in her expression and no expectation that he would use the situation as an excuse to seize control.
"Bring them back here," she replied, glancing toward the workers’ houses where Gu Han’s men were still watching. "They might miss something if those idiots die around the corner."
Zhenlan turned toward the western road as the wind gathered around him.
This was what standing beside her meant.
He didn’t need to become less capable or pretend he couldn’t protect her. He simply needed to stop treating his strength as permission to decide what was best for her.
The distinction should have been obvious.
It hadn’t been before.
Now, it felt more natural than anything else he had done since returning to this life.
The air rushed down the side street and caught the eight men just as they reached the houses. Their feet left the pavement as pressure tightened around their bodies, dragging them backward while their weapons spun from their hands.
They shouted and clawed at the air, but there was nothing for them to grab. Zhenlan carried them past the abandoned houses, over the twisted wreckage, and through the smoke still rising from the destroyed vehicles.
He dropped them directly into the open space in front of the porch.
The plants rose around them before any of them managed to stand.
Across the road, Gu Han’s observers lifted their binoculars higher.
Rouxi smiled.
"Much better."
