Leisurely conversation outside Lingxi Pavilion, tranquility in the gentle breeze

The vermilion gates of Lingxi Pavilion were half-closed, and a few fluorescent petals, blown by the wind, were scattered on the jade steps in front of the gate. The Ye Luoli warriors gathered in twos and threes on the open ground outside the pavilion, enjoying a rare moment of peace as they let go of the tension of fighting the crisis.

Jianpeng, holding Liangcai's hand, was squatting in the grass, competing to find the brightest fluorescent grass. Their laughter was as crisp as wind chimes. Shuyan and Moli sat side by side on the steps. He was flipping through an ancient book he had borrowed from the pavilion, while Moli sat quietly beside him, occasionally offering him a sweet candy. Chen Sisi leaned against a tree trunk, a blue peacock perched on her shoulder and preened its feathers. The two chatted quietly about new songs and desserts from the human world.

In the distance, Prince Shui walked slowly towards them, hand in hand with Wang Mo. The evening breeze lifted her skirt and ruffled his flowing hair. Wang Mo held a freshly picked pink flower in her hand and stood on tiptoe, trying to tuck it into Prince Shui's hair. He leaned down slightly to accommodate her, his eyes overflowing with tenderness, even the water around him seemed to be imbued with warmth.

Whispers occasionally drifted from within the Lingxi Pavilion, yet they did not disturb the tranquility outside. There was no strife, no prophecy, no scheming, only the gentle breeze and the comfort of being with companions.

In a corner, Prince Minsk, who had appeared out of nowhere, was quietly observing from the shadows of the trees. His icy blue eyes, devoid of their usual cold calculation, showed a rare, faint ripple before quickly returning to calm as he turned and silently departed.