CHAPTER 144: CH-144: LET’S PLANT

The days continued, each moment a step deeper into the quiet harmony they had built.

The orchard had become not just a place of refuge, but a living pulse, breathing with the rhythms of renewal. Every path felt softer, more familiar—like a song once sung, forgotten, and rediscovered.

One afternoon, Feng Yin sat under the great Hearttree, his fingers moving steadily across parchment as he wrote. A poem, a letter—he hadn’t decided which. Tian Shen found him there, just as the light began to stretch long over the grove.

He stood for a moment, watching the way the sun kissed the edges of Feng Yin’s hair, the ink staining his fingers like an old blessing. The sight made Tian Shen’s heart skip—this was how he wanted to remember everything.

"You always find me when I’m lost in words," Feng Yin said, without looking up. His voice was soft, but filled with warmth.

"Then I’ll find you more often," Tian Shen replied, his tone light but sincere.

He sat down beside Feng Yin, watching him write, tracing the movements of his hand. A smile tugged at the corner of Tian Shen’s mouth. "What are you writing?"

Feng Yin glanced up, his eyes gleaming with the quiet wisdom that always danced just behind his gaze. "A map. Of what’s yet to come."

Tian Shen chuckled. "Another one?"

"Yes," Feng Yin said, his smile soft. "This one, though, is for us. For this place. For the future we’ve already started building."

Tian Shen leaned back against the trunk of the tree, his gaze turning upward toward the branches swaying gently in the breeze. "I never thought I would have a future like this."

"Not even when we first met?"

Tian Shen shook his head. "I couldn’t imagine anything beyond the fight. And even when I thought about it, it was always something vague. A dream that only existed when I closed my eyes."

Feng Yin paused, setting his pen down. He turned toward Tian Shen, his expression both understanding and gentle. "And now?"

Tian Shen’s gaze softened. "Now, I can see it clearly. Every piece of it. Every moment."

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of their shared understanding settling around them. The orchard seemed to lean in, its ancient trees whispering their own secrets.

A soft rustling sound broke the stillness, and a figure appeared in the distance. It was a familiar face—the girl with the lightning-stick, carrying a bundle of herbs.

She approached them, smiling shyly, her eyes glinting with something both mischievous and earnest.

"Good afternoon," she said, her voice bright. "I brought more herbs for the tea."

Tian Shen grinned. "I’m sure it’ll be as refreshing as the last batch."

Feng Yin chuckled and rose to his feet, taking the bundle from her. "Thank you. You’re always welcome here."

The girl’s gaze flickered between the two of them, her smile widening. "I think the orchard likes you both."

"We like it too," Tian Shen said, his voice soft. "It’s become a home."

Feng Yin handed the herbs to Tian Shen, who began sorting through them. He paused to glance over at the girl. "What brings you here today?"

She sat down beside them, her legs folded beneath her. "I wanted to learn more about the stories of the orchard. I’ve heard the wind carry them, but I want to know them from the source."

Feng Yin’s eyes twinkled with amusement. "We’re not the source. The trees are."

The girl tilted her head. "But you listen to them. You understand them. And you make them real."

Tian Shen nodded, his fingers still moving through the herbs. "The orchard listens, too. We all do."

"There’s something special about this place," the girl said, her voice softening. "It’s different from everywhere else I’ve been."

"Because it remembers," Feng Yin said, the words so gentle, they seemed to linger in the air. "It remembers the things we forget. The pieces of us we think are lost."

The girl nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the hearttree, as though she could see the memories woven into its bark. "I think I understand. I think I want to help it remember."

Feng Yin smiled warmly, reaching out to pat her head in approval. "We all do our part."

Later, as the sun sank lower in the sky, painting the orchard in amber and rose, Tian Shen and Feng Yin stood together at the edge of the grove.

The girl with the lightning-stick had gone to share her newfound knowledge with the other children, leaving the two of them alone for a while.

The air was cooler now, the evening breeze bringing with it the scent of flowers and damp earth. Tian Shen stood close to Feng Yin, the familiar warmth of his presence a comfort against the growing night.

"You were right," Tian Shen said, his voice thoughtful. "I was lost for so long. In the fight. In the anger."

Feng Yin turned to him, his eyes soft. "And now?"

"Now, I’m here. I’m present." Tian Shen looked into Feng Yin’s eyes. "With you."

Feng Yin took his hand, their fingers lacing together. "And you’ll always be here. Even when the world calls us to fight again."

Tian Shen squeezed his hand gently. "I’ll be here. With you."

They stood together in the hush of the orchard, as the night slowly unfurled around them. The trees seemed to breathe with a deeper pulse, and the stars, one by one, began to light up the sky. The orchard was quiet, but it was full. Full of memories, full of promises, full of the space between them where they had both learned to exist, without the need for words.

"Thank you," Tian Shen whispered.

"For what?"

"For showing me that peace can be just as powerful as the storm."

Feng Yin smiled, his heart warm. "Storms are important. But so are the quiet moments that follow them."

Together, they watched the first stars appear in the sky. And in that silence, they both knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

Not as warriors, not as husbands, but as two hearts beating in time with the rhythm of the orchard.

And as the orchard continued to grow, so did they.

The night deepened, wrapping the orchard in a cocoon of soft shadows and silver light. The Hearttree stood tall above them, its limbs arching toward the stars like a prayer made of branches and breath.

Tian Shen and Feng Yin remained at its base, their hands still entwined, silent but not in absence—rather, in contentment.

Fireflies began to emerge, flickering like small drifting stars of their own, weaving through the underbrush and along the winding paths.

Their light was faint but warm, dancing in harmony with the distant hum of cicadas and the soft rustle of leaves.

"Remember the first night we stayed here?"

Feng Yin asked quietly, his head leaning gently against Tian Shen’s shoulder.

"How could I forget?" Tian Shen murmured. "You were shivering, and we didn’t know if the old roots beneath us were going to collapse the next day."

Feng Yin laughed softly.

"We’d barely set up the wards. I wasn’t sure if this place would accept us."

"But it did." Tian Shen tilted his head, brushing his cheek against Feng Yin’s hair. "It accepted you first."

"I just listened," Feng Yin said, voice low. "The orchard was already speaking. I think it was waiting for someone to hear it again."

Tian Shen shifted to look at him. "You always say that... as if you don’t realize how rare that is."

Feng Yin didn’t answer at first. Instead, he reached out with his free hand and touched the bark of the Hearttree. "This tree... it was once used to anchor talismans that sealed away ancient beasts. But now it anchors something else. A kind of hope."

"You think trees can hope?" Tian Shen asked with a quiet smile.

"I think anything alive can. And maybe even things that aren’t."

They sat there for a time, speaking less and feeling more, until a sudden ripple passed through the orchard—not threatening, but curious. Tian Shen straightened, sensing it as one might feel a shift in the wind before rain.

Feng Yin placed his hand on the ground. "It’s the leyline again. Shifting. Slowly healing."

The orchard’s roots had long been twisted by old talismans, ancient bindings that once held monstrous spirits and cursed war remnants. But over time, with Feng Yin’s care and Tian Shen’s protective aura, the orchard had begun to reclaim itself—its true self. Now, the roots no longer trembled with trauma, but pulsed with renewal.

"We’ve given it time," Feng Yin said. "And space. Just like we needed."

Tian Shen nodded. "Then maybe we can help it bloom again."

At that, Feng Yin smiled—a full, luminous smile that chased shadows away. "Tomorrow, let’s plant something. Together. Something that wasn’t here before."

Tian Shen chuckled. "Like what?"

"Something absurd," Feng Yin replied. "A fruit that glows. Or a tree that sings."

"I don’t know where to find those."

"We’ll make one," Feng Yin said, taking Tian Shen’s hand again. "Like we made this peace."

And beneath the moonlight, as the orchard whispered its blessings, they sat—two souls who had carved serenity out of storm, weaving their future one soft heartbeat at a time.