Xiaolong attempted to cross the practice courtyard. This proved more difficult than anticipated.

Chen materialized from behind a decorative rock with the dedication of someone who had been waiting. "Guardian Elder! This humble disciple wondered if you required assistance with human courtship rituals. I have a manual—very comprehensive, covers everything from gift selection to proper addressing of potential in-laws."

"Chen. I appreciate your concern, but—"

"Chapter seven specifically addresses cross-cultivation-level relationships! The section on navigating power imbalances between partners contains excellent advice about maintaining mutual respect despite disparate capabilities."

Xiaolong looked at the manual Chen produced from his sleeve. The cover read Harmonious Hearts: A Cultivator's Guide to Romantic Success. Someone had added marginalia in tiny characters that covered every visible surface.

"Thank you. That won't be necessary."

"But Guardian Elder, human customs can be quite complicated! There are seventeen different types of formal address depending on relationship stage and relative sect standing. The manual includes helpful diagrams—"

"Chen." She employed the tone usually reserved for stopping junior disciples before they attempted techniques beyond their capability. "I will manage."

She left him standing there, manual still extended, expression radiating the disappointment of someone whose helpful gesture had been declined.

Three steps later, a cluster of junior disciples noticed her approach. They scattered like startled sparrows, giggling and whispering behind inadequate hands. One girl—Ping, whose water circulation Xiaolong had corrected that morning—managed a strangled "Congratulations, Guardian Elder!" before fleeing with her companions.

Congratulations on what? The question burned, but pursuing clarification would only encourage more chaos.

The kitchen path proved no better. Staff members packing lunch portions brightened when she appeared.

"Guardian Elder! We've prepared something special today." The head cook—a woman whose cultivation focused on fire essence, making her supernaturally skilled with temperature control—presented a wrapped bundle. "Extra portions, perfect for sharing. Very romantic, eating together by the Azure Pool or perhaps the gardens."

The bundle was twice normal size. Xiaolong accepted it because refusing would create more conversation than simply taking the food.

"Thank you."

"Young love is so precious." The cook's smile could have warmed the entire compound. "Even for those who aren't strictly young. Well. You know what I mean."

Xiaolong fled before the cook could elaborate on what exactly she meant.

Elder Zhen intercepted her near the herb garden. "Guardian Elder! Excellent timing. I wanted to share some thoughts about relationship cultivation."

"That's not necessary—"

"Like the wisteria and oak!" Elder Zhen's enthusiasm transcended social boundaries. "Different species, different growth patterns, but when planted together they create beautiful harmony. The wisteria climbs, the oak provides support, both flourish through complementary existence rather than competing for resources."

"Elder Zhen, I appreciate the metaphor, but—"

"Of course, proper cultivation requires attention to each plant's individual needs. You can't simply force compatibility. But when natural harmony exists, when the roots intertwine and growth patterns align..." He trailed off, gazing at his plants with the expression of someone experiencing profound botanical enlightenment.

Xiaolong left him to his revelations.

By the time she reached her quarters, she had been congratulated by seven more disciples, offered advice by three, and received knowing smiles from at least a dozen servants and outer sect members. The wrapped lunch sat on her desk, reproaching her with its excessive size and romantic implications.

She had faced corrupted sect leaders with less discomfort than this well-meaning chaos.

Li Feng's day progressed along similar channels, though his experience carried different texture.

Ming Lian cornered him after morning training, grin wide and shameless. "So. 'Mate.' That's quite the term. Very... definitive."

"Hui Yun has a flair for dramatic phrasing." Li Feng cleaned his practice sword with movements that required no conscious thought, muscle memory from years of discipline.

"So you're denying it?"

"I'm saying fox spirits and humans have different vocabularies."

"Interesting." Ming Lian leaned against the weapons rack, his posture radiating the comfortable insolence of long friendship. "So if I asked directly whether you and Guardian Elder Xiaolong are courting, you'd say...?"

Li Feng met his friend's eyes. The answer lived there, obvious and undeniable. "I'd say it's complicated."

"It always is." Ming Lian's grin softened into something more genuine. "For what it's worth, I think you're good together. She makes you laugh. You make her human. That's worth more than all the proper protocol in the cultivation world." He sobered slightly. "But you should probably talk to her about definitions. Before the entire sect decides your wedding colors for you."

Song Bai's approach was less direct but carried more weight. She found him by the cultivation spring where he often practiced, her posture impeccably formal, her face composed in the serene expression she wore like armor.

"Senior Brother Li Feng," she began, her tone perfectly measured. "This disciple extends congratulations on your relationship with Guardian Elder Xiaolong."

Her control impressed Li Feng. The only betrayal of emotion was a slight tension around her eyes, visible only to someone who had known her for years.

"Thank you."

"She is... extraordinary. An asset to our sect." The words were formal, but Song Bai's fingers tightened slightly on her sleeve. "Her unconventional approach to cultivation challenges our understanding, but her results are undeniable. A worthy match for someone of your character."

Her generosity cut more deeply than jealousy would have. She wasn't claiming betrayal or expressing outrage. She was acknowledging defeat with the same disciplined control she applied to cultivation techniques.

"Song Bai." Li Feng set aside his training sword, giving her full attention. "Your dedication to this sect, your mastery of Moonlight Reflection technique—these things are not diminished by someone else's achievements. Your path is still your own."

She inclined her head, accepting his words but perhaps not believing them. "The path requires clarity. My practice will improve now that..." She stopped, chose different words. "Now that uncertainty has resolved."

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She left before he could respond further, her retreat as precise as her entrance. Li Feng watched her go, aware that he had been part of her journey, not because of rejection, but because she had needed to see the truth to find her own way forward.

Other disciples approached throughout the day—some offering congratulations, others asking oblique questions about ceremony timing or whether the sect would celebrate formally. Li Feng handled each interaction with patient courtesy, neither confirming nor denying anything, simply acknowledging their interest and moving conversations toward safer topics.

But the accumulation wore on him. By afternoon, he found himself in the rarely-used eastern meditation garden, sitting beside the lotus pool where few disciples ventured.

They needed to talk. Actually talk, with words and honesty and whatever discomfort that brought. Because the sect had already decided their relationship status, and continuing to avoid the conversation only delayed inevitable clarity.

He cared for Xiaolong. That truth was simple, undeniable. But caring existed in many forms—respect, friendship, romantic attachment, love. Which categories applied? And did those categories matter less than the actual relationship they'd built?

Water reflected clouds overhead, distorted and beautiful. Li Feng watched patterns shift and reform, seeking wisdom in movements he'd studied his entire cultivation life.

The answer arrived quietly: Stop overthinking. Ask her directly. Let the conversation flow where it needed to go.

He rose, brushed dust from his robes, and went to find Xiaolong.

The Azure Pool held evening light like cupped hands holding water.

Xiaolong arrived to find Li Feng already there, sitting on the meditation stone they'd shared countless times. His posture carried none of its usual ease—spine straight, shoulders tight, hands resting on his knees with the careful positioning of someone bracing for difficult conversation.

She settled beside him. Their reflections wavered on water's surface, two figures reduced to light and shadow.

"So," Li Feng said. "Hui Yun said a thing."

"Hui Yun says many things. Most of them designed to cause maximum chaos."

"This one succeeded." He turned to face her. "The entire sect has apparently decided our relationship status without consulting us."

"I noticed." Xiaolong's fingers found the horn cuff Su Hu had crafted, tracing silver patterns worn smooth by nervous habit. "Chen offered me a manual on courtship rituals. The cook gave me romantic lunch portions. Elder Zhen compared us to plants."

"Ming Lian asked directly if we're courting." Li Feng's voice remained steady. "I told him it's complicated."

"Is it?"

The question hung between them. Water moved, gentle currents responding to wind and spiritual energy that saturated the sect compound.

"I think," Li Feng said slowly, "that it's only complicated because we haven't actually discussed what we are to each other."

"Dragons don't discuss such things. We simply... are. Or are not."

"But you're not only a dragon anymore." He spoke carefully, without judgment. "You're also someone who lives here, who teaches disciples, who cares about people and allows them to care back. That requires human framework alongside draconic nature."

Xiaolong looked at their reflections again. The water showed her horns, his profile, the space between them that was less than a hand's width but felt vast as oceans.

"What are we to each other, Xiaolong?"

The directness of it stole her breath. Dragons spent centuries circling questions like this, demonstrating worth through action rather than declarations. But Li Feng asked with the straightforward honesty that characterized everything about him—no games, no elaborate rituals, just a genuine desire to understand.

"I don't know what humans call this." The admission cost her. "I know that you matter to me more than anyone has mattered in five thousand years. I know that when you're not nearby, I notice the absence like missing limbs. I know that your opinion affects how I see myself, which should be impossible for someone who's existed as long as I have."

"That sounds like love." Li Feng's hand found hers, fingers lacing together. "Humans would call that love."

"Love is too small a word for something this vast."

"It is." His thumb traced circles against her palm, the gesture achingly familiar. "But it's the word we have."

Xiaolong absorbed this. Love. The concept existed in dragon culture—bonds between mates who chose each other across centuries, alliances that transcended simple territorial agreements. But those bonds formed slowly, tested through time that ground mountains to dust.

She had known Li Feng for less than a year.

"By dragon standards," she said, "we've barely begun the observation period. Courtship takes centuries. We demonstrate worth through territorial displays, treasure exchanges, tests that prove we can sustain commitment across ages that would see mortal civilizations rise and fall."

"By human standards," Li Feng replied, "we've been courting for months. The market visit was a date. The gifts we exchanged—your assistance with the floods, my teaching, the scarf, the flute—those are courtship gestures. The time we spend together, the way we seek each other's company, the fact that I'd rather talk to you than anyone else..." He trailed off. "That's love. Maybe not by dragon measurements, but by human ones."

The cultural disconnect crystallized with uncomfortable clarity. She'd been accidentally courting him while thinking she was barely acknowledging mutual existence. Every gesture she'd considered companionship, humans saw as romantic declaration.

"I've been courting you without realizing it."

"I think so, yes."

Silence settled. A night bird called from somewhere beyond the compound walls. Spiritual energy cycled through formation arrays, maintaining barriers and blessings that protected the sect.

"Does that bother you?" Xiaolong asked.

"That you accidentally courted me using human customs you didn't fully understand?" Li Feng chuckled, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing. "No. It means your heart knew before your mind caught up. That's not a bad thing."

"What do we do now?"

"Well." He shifted closer, their reflections merging on the water's surface. "We could formalize things by sect standards—announce intent, perform ceremonies, make it official in ways that satisfy administrative requirements and stop the gossip."

"Or?"

"Or we acknowledge what already exists between us without needing elaborate public declarations. Let people draw their own conclusions. If asked directly, we're honest: we care for each other, we're figuring out what that means, and it's no one's business but ours how we navigate it."

Xiaolong considered this. The second option appealed—no ceremonies, no formal constraints, just continued exploration of this thing between them that defied easy categorization. But the first option had merit too, clarity that might satisfy a sect that preferred structure to uncertainty.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I want you to be comfortable. I want us to continue as we have been—spending time together, learning from each other, seeing where this goes—without pressure to perform for an audience or meet expectations we haven't agreed to."

"That's not an answer."

"It is, actually." Li Feng squeezed her hand gently. "I want us, however we define that. Label or no label, ceremony or no ceremony. The substance matters more than the structure."

Xiaolong absorbed this. Five thousand years of existence, and this simple honesty—wanting someone regardless of proper terminology—felt more profound than any territorial declaration she'd witnessed among ancient dragons.

The words settled into her like warmth into cold stone. She had spent millennia believing dragons needed nothing beyond themselves. But here, now, with Li Feng's hand in hers and evening light painting the world in shades of gold and amber—she wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted whatever strange thing they were building together that combined dragon and human, ancient and ephemeral, vast and precious.

"I love you," she said. The words emerged quiet but clear. "By dragon standards, by human standards, by whatever framework we create that's ours alone. I love you."

Li Feng's smile could have lit the darkest night. "I love you too. Have for a while now, if I'm honest."

"How long?"

"Since you asked to become my disciple at the Fourth Sacred Waterfall. Maybe before that—when you cushioned my fall after our first fight. You didn't have to do that. Dragons don't concern themselves with mortal comfort. But you did anyway."

Xiaolong remembered that moment—his unconscious weight in her arms, the strange protectiveness that had risen without permission. She'd dismissed it then as curiosity. Now she recognized it as the beginning of something that had grown roots too deep to excavate.

"So we're courting," she said. "By human definitions."

"We're figuring it out," Li Feng corrected. "By our own definitions. Which is better than either standard alone."

He leaned closer. She met him halfway. Their first kiss tasted like jasmine tea and evening air, brief and sweet and perfect in its simplicity.

When they pulled apart, Xiaolong rested her forehead against his. "The sect is going to be insufferable about this."

"Undoubtedly."

"Hui Yun will be smug."

"Unbearably so."

"I still want to set that fox on fire."

"I know." Li Feng's hand cupped her face, thumb tracing the ethereal scales that had appeared along her jawline. "But not today."

"Not today," she agreed.

They sat together as stars emerged overhead, hands linked, shoulders touching, the space between them finally acknowledged and named.

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