Chapter 16: Chapter 15

image [https://i.imgur.com/GhsogYM.png]

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“Curiosity's lure,

A barrier unseen, yet felt.

Truth, a whispered pact,

Traded for a wider sight,

The past unfolds, a forest tale.”

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Yubi knelt by a vibrant patch of wild clover near the pond’s edge, the damp earth cool beneath her knees. With practiced movements, she unrolled a length of finely woven linen cloth, its unbleached fibers soft against the grass, and meticulously arranged their small picnic space. From her satchel, a simple leather affair worn smooth with age and use, she produced a black lacquered tea set, each piece gleaming with a subdued sheen. Next came a folded paper fan with delicate bamboo ribs, and finally, a worn ink set sealed within a carved wooden case. Each item was placed with deliberate care, not for vanity, but for ritual—for the quiet rhythm it instilled. A rhythm of calm. Of control.

Next came the paper—fibrous and faintly scented with pine resin, a hint of the forest clinging to its surface. She expertly flattened it on a weighted board beside the ink stone, its smooth surface ready for the rich, dark liquid. Then, she paused, her gaze drifting toward the winding forest trail just past the water’s edge.

“We’ll need fruit,” she murmured, more to herself than to Areum. “And firewood.” The path beckoned, promising plump berries, dry, fragrant bark for a small fire, perhaps even spirit-plums if the season had blessed them. But something tugged at her attention, a subtle shift in the air, before she could even contemplate moving.

She turned.

Areum sat as still as a carved statue, her spine perfectly straight, knees folded neatly beneath her in the formal Earth-style seat she had mastered despite her youthful exuberance. But her chin, ever so slightly, tilted toward the shimmering, unseen barrier.

Not the glinting scales of the koi in the pond. Not the waiting ink set, ripe for artistic exploration.

The barrier.

Always the barrier.

Yubi sighed, a quiet, weary sound, and rested a hand on her hip. Her mind drifted back, pondering the methods of the shadows and watchers, the revered guardians of the Jade Realm. How had they dealt with this relentless, unyielding curiosity? Areum's inquisitive nature wasn't merely stubborn; it was an innate, irresistible force. No wonder Goose, Areum's mentor, had her practicing cultivation morning to night, channeling that potent energy into discipline.

Without a word, Yubi slipped the bamboo stick from its wraps again, its smooth surface cool against her palm. It hummed faintly in her hand, a subtle vibration that spoke of latent power, sensing the intention forming in her mind. She walked over to Areum, lifted the rod—

Tap.

Areum flinched, a sudden, involuntary jerk, and rubbed the spot on her scalp where the bamboo had made its silent contact. "Owe… I wasn't going to do anything, I promise," she protested, a pout forming on her lips.

Yubi merely raised a brow, an unspoken challenge in her gaze. “Yet… you were thinking it.”

Areum’s mouth opened, then snapped shut again, her shoulders slumping in silent, undeniable defeat. She knew Yubi spoke the truth. Her thoughts, as always, were laid bare.

Yubi didn’t press. She never did. She simply gestured with two fingers, the very same way her own grandfather, Elder Yu, had once beckoned to her—a gesture that spoke of instruction and unwavering expectation. “Come on. You’re foraging with me.”

Areum blinked, surprise flickering in her unseeing eyes. “Why me?” she asked, a hint of complaint in her tone.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Because if I leave you alone,” Yubi said, already turning and beginning her descent down the narrow, winding forest trail, "we’ll come back to find you inside a tree, or the barrier unraveling. Or both.”

Behind her, Areum let out a theatrical groan, but Yubi heard the faint rustle of silk as the princess rose to follow.

Yubi didn't smile, not outwardly, but the corner of her mouth twitched, a private amusement. Good. Let her walk. Let her learn. Let her burn off that potent, restless curiosity in useful, productive ways.

The ancient woods ahead welcomed them with the soft rustling of leaves, a symphony of unseen creatures, and the distant, melodic calls of birds. The path, though narrow, was shaded by intertwining vines and vibrant, ephemeral flowers that bloomed only in the presence of potent spirit energy.

Yubi breathed deep, inhaling the verdant scent of the forest, the clean, earthy aroma filling her lungs. She would let Areum explore, yes. But it would be on her terms.

Always on her terms.

The forest hummed, a vibrant, intricate symphony of life. Birds whistled from the dizzying heights of the canopies, their calls weaving through the dappled sunlight. Tiny spirit-moths, no larger than a fingernail, shimmered between the leaves, their ethereal forms vanishing like wisps of breath when looked at too long—fleeting glimpses of the magic that saturated this ancient land. Yubi, ever practical, knelt by a patch of earth where gnarled roots had split the soil, and methodically plucked a handful of goldenroot berries. Their scent—a subtle, yet potent blend of spiced honey and damp stone—was faint but held enough medicinal value to be brewed into a restorative tonic, if prepared just right.

Behind her, Areum rustled through a low thicket, her movements embodying the quiet, almost feline energy of a cat exploring a precarious surface—cautious, yet undeniably alert to every sound and scent.

“Yubi,” Areum called, her voice clear, as she brushed away a silvery web of silkgrass that clung to her sleeve. “Can I ask you something?”

Yubi leaned back on her heels, dusting off her hands, a faint sigh escaping her lips. She glanced over one shoulder, a knowing glint in her dark eyes. “You’ve already decided to, haven’t you?” she countered, her tone dry.

Areum didn’t deny it. Instead, her question hung in the air, weighted with an unspoken urgency. “Lin Mei. The Vermillion Orchid. How is she connected to my mother? To Ayaka Rengetsu?”

The question landed softly, a feather falling onto deep snow, yet it carried an undeniable weight. Yubi heard it in the sudden stillness that followed, in the way the forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

She straightened slowly, deliberately, her fingers trailing over the smooth rim of her satchel. Her gaze, usually so direct, softened.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she asked, not unkindly, but with a note of solemnity.

“Is it a bad story?” Areum pressed, her youthful impatience bubbling to the surface. “Is it… forbidden knowledge?”

Yubi chuckled, a dry, low sound, like flint striking iron. “No. But with the way you chase truth like a child chasing fireflies, I think maybe it should be.”

Areum pouted, her lips pressed forward in an exaggerated plea, a charming affectation she knew often swayed Yubi. “Please?”

Yubi sighed, a deeper sound this time, and folded her arms across her chest. “Alright. I’ll tell you. But under one condition.”

Areum’s ears, usually a point of fascination for Yubi, perked up, her curiosity momentarily eclipsing all else. “What condition?”

Yubi’s eyes narrowed, and her voice shifted—measured, firm, leaving no room for argument. “Forget about the barrier.”

Areum’s mouth parted, and for a fleeting heartbeat, she hesitated, her resolve wavering. Her gaze, though unseeing, drifted almost imperceptibly toward the direction of the barrier, as if its faint, shimmering song still echoed at the edge of her mind, a siren call to her boundless curiosity.

“Areum…”

The name alone, spoken in Yubi’s tone, carried weight. It was a warning. A promise. A subtle crack of thunder in the quiet forest.

Areum groaned, a sound of profound, dramatic disappointment, and slumped to the mossy ground, folding her legs once more into that neat, formal kneeling posture. She extended her pinky finger, solemn and serious, a gesture usually reserved for childhood promises.

“I pinky swear.”

Yubi raised a brow, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “You know in the Jade Realm, oaths like that are legally binding.”

Areum grinned, a flash of pure, impish delight. “Then you better not lie to me.”

Yubi shook her head, a soft exhalation of air, but a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips as she hooked her own pinky around Areum’s.

“Alright, little cub. I’ll tell you the tale.”

The spirit light flickered through the ancient trees, casting dancing shadows on the forest floor, and the distant, subtle whisper of the barrier faded behind them, Yubi began to speak. Her voice, rich with untold stories, wove a tapestry not just of history, but of ancient bloodlines, of bitter rivalries hidden beneath a veneer of exquisite elegance, and of two extraordinary women whose intertwined destinies once shaped the very breath of empires.