Breeze

Chapter 13 - Healing

The ancient temple stood silently amidst a grove of towering trees, its golden spires glinting in the soft glow of the setting sun. The air was thick with incense, the scent of sandalwood blending with the distant sound of chanting monks. Yibo, Xiao Zhan, and their friends stood at the temple's entrance, staring at the weathered stone steps that led them inside.

It had been Bai Shu's suggestion to come here-a way to seek peace after the strange ghostly encounters Yibo had experienced, and perhaps, to free themselves from the lingering shadows of the past.

Zhan glanced at Yibo, who appeared tense but resolute. "Are you sure about this?" he asked softly.

Yibo's lips pressed into a thin line. "If there's any chance it can help, I want to take it."

They climbed the steps in silence, their footsteps barely making a sound against the ancient stones. Inside, the temple was dimly lit, with intricate carvings on the walls depicting tales of old. The faint hum of prayer echoed from deeper within the sanctum, offering an almost eerie c

They were greeted by a monk, his robes a deep saffron, his expression serene yet piercing. His eyes seemed to read the weight they all carried as if he already knew their purpose for being there.

Xiao Zhan stepped forward, feeling the pressure to explain. He recounted the story of Yiye and Ruolai in a quiet voice-how the two had fought side by side, how Yiye had died without knowing Ruolai's true feelings, and how that unspoken love seemed to trap Yiye's spirit in unrest.

The monk listened patiently, his gaze never leaving Zhan. When the story ended, a heavy silence fell over the room. The monk finally spoke, his voice calm but laced with something deeper.

"The spirit will find peace," the monk began, "once he receives the closure he was denied in life. The truth must be revealed to him, that he was loved in return."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. But there was something more, an unspoken mystery that lingered beneath the monk's calm demeanor.

Zhan swallowed, glancing at Yibo. "And... how can we give him that closure?"

The monk's eyes flickered with an unreadable expression. "There are many paths to peace. Some must be walked in silence, others in the company of those who understand your journey."

Yibo frowned, clearly unsatisfied. "What do we do?"

The monk didn't answer directly. Instead, he stepped aside and gestured toward the back of the temple, where the setting sun illuminated an ancient altar. "The answer will come to you," he said. "It always does."

It was a quiet afternoon when Yibo received the email. He had been sitting on the floor of his apartment, flipping through some choreography notes for their upcoming practice when the notification on his phone pinged. Glancing at it, he squinted slightly, reading the subject line: "100th Anniversary Performance Assignment."

Yibo's brow furrowed as he opened the email. His fingers scrolled quickly through the text, but his expression softened when he saw the details.

*Dear Wang Yibo,*

*As one of the university's most accomplished students in the arts, we would like to invite you to choreograph and perform for the upcoming 100th-anniversary celebration. This event is a monumental occasion for the university, and we believe your talent will make it truly special. We look forward to seeing your creative vision come to life.*

Yibo sighed. He was used to receiving these kinds of assignments, especially after becoming known around the university for his exceptional dancing skills. He had gained a reputation not only as an incredible dancer but as someone with an unparalleled passion for the arts. People admired the way he seemed to float on air with every move he made, as if dancing was as natural to him as breathing.

But despite the prestige, this assignment felt different. More personal. The 100th anniversary was a huge deal, and the pressure to create something memorable was already building. He leaned back against the couch, letting the phone rest on his chest.

Moments later, Zhan entered the room, catching sight of Yibo's pensive expression. "What's going on?" he asked, a slight smile playing on his lips. He had an uncanny ability to read Yibo's emotions even without words.

Yibo sat up, showing Zhan the email. "They want me to choreograph a performance for the 100th-anniversary celebration. Big event, a lot of people... and I don't even know where to start."

Zhan took the phone, reading through the email before sitting beside Yibo. "Well, they're right to ask you. Everyone at the university knows you're the best dancer here. You've got this."

Yibo glanced up at Zhan, his cheeks puffing out slightly in a small, uncertain frown. "It's not that simple, Zhan Ge. This needs to be something special, something that stands out."

Zhan thought for a moment. He understood Yibo's perfectionism and how dedicated he was to his craft. But he also knew Yibo wasn't alone in this. "Well, why don't we brainstorm together? We can figure it out."

Yibo nodded, grateful for Zhan's support. The two of them had become quite the pair at the university-Yibo known for his dancing, and Zhan for his singing. Though Zhan was a talented artist, it was his rich, soulful voice that often caught people's attention. It wasn't uncommon for students to stop and listen whenever Zhan performed. And as for their looks? That was an entirely different level of attention. They were both strikingly handsome in their own unique ways, with Zhan's mature charm and warm bunny-like smile, and Yibo's quiet allure, jade-like skin, and intense brown eyes.

Between their talents and their looks, they were admired by many, especially the girls. Yibo was often cold and aloof toward the attention, but Zhan handled it with more grace, always flashing that sweet, gentle smile, which sometimes made Yibo just a little jealous.

As they sat together on the couch, Zhan pulled out a notepad. "Okay, let's start with some ideas. What kind of performance do you want to do?"

Yibo shrugged, still deep in thought. "I don't want it to be just a dance performance. It needs to tell a story, something that has meaning."

Zhan nodded. "That makes sense. But what kind of story? Should we do something modern or traditional?"

They bounced ideas back and forth, going through different possibilities. They considered stories about triumph, love, and loss, but none of the concepts really struck a chord. The conversation began to fizzle, and Yibo leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Nothing feels right," he muttered, frustration evident in his voice. "I don't want this to be just another performance."

Zhan glanced at him, thinking for a moment. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind, and he sat up straight. "What if we tell a story that's personal to us?"

Yibo blinked, turning his head to look at Zhan. "What do you mean?"

"What if," Zhan began, his voice soft but thoughtful, "we tell the story of Yiye and Ruolai?"

Yibo stilled at the mention. The story of Yiye and Ruolai-the very tale that had haunted their dreams, that they had sought answers for in the temple. It was a love story, tragic and unresolved. Yibo had been avoiding thinking about it too much, but now, as he looked at Zhan, it made perfect sense.

"That could work," Yibo said quietly. "It's emotional. People would feel the connection."

"And," Zhan added, "you're Ruolai and I'm Yiye. We've lived their story in a way. We understand them."

Yibo nodded, the idea settling in his mind. The weight of Ruolai's and Yiye's history had been heavy on them for weeks now, but turning that into art-into something that could be shared-might be the closure they needed, both for the performance and their personal lives.

"It could be incredible," Zhan said, his eyes turning into soft crescents as he smiled. "A beautiful, tragic story about love and fate. We'll do them justice."

Yibo looked at Zhan, feeling a surge of warmth. They had been through so much together, and now this performance felt like the perfect way to honor their journey. This wouldn't just be any performance-it would be a testament to their bond, both on stage and in real life.