an insight : Zhihui's pov

As they returned from their journey, the air was filled with the sounds of celebration at Bai Xiao Jin Ding Peak. The festivities were in full swing, with music, laughter, and jubilant cheers echoing throughout the peak. Zhihui observed the scene from a distance, a wistful smile playing on his lips.

"Hah, indeed, this is the protagonist of the novel," Zhihui mused silently to himself. In the original tale, he would have been the center of attention at such events, his name synonymous with respect and achievement( the Celestial blade). But tonight, he chose to remain in the shadows, allowing his disciples to bask in the glory of their accomplishments.

However, when Zhi Yong eventually paid him a visit, Zhihui's attention shifted. He noticed a wound on Zhi Yong's hand, a detail that had likely escaped the young disciple's notice. Concerned, Zhihui resolved to tend to the injury himself.

Quietly entering Zhi Yong's quarters, Zhihui was struck by the sight of his sleeping disciple. Zhi Yong appeared peaceful and serene, his features softened by the gentle glow of the moonlight.

"What am I thinking?" Zhihui chided himself inwardly, feeling a flutter of something unfamiliar in his chest. "I'm seven years older than him, and his shizun." Yet, despite his internal protests, Zhihui couldn't help but admire the young man before him.

Setting aside his conflicting thoughts, Zhihui focused on the task at hand. He carefully bandaged Zhi Yong's wound, his movements practiced and efficient. As he worked, his gaze drifted to a book lying nearby. Curiosity piqued, he picked it up and began to leaf through its pages.

At first, the diary contained mundane sketches and writings depicting everyday scenes and landscapes. However, as Zhihui continued to flip through the pages, he noticed a shift in the content. The sketches became more intricate, more personal, and Zhihui's heart skipped a beat when he realized the subject of these drawings was none other than himself.

A soft smile tugged at Zhihui's lips as he traced the lines of the sketches with his finger. "Ha, all it took for him to respect me was a little kindness," he murmured to himself, his heart unexpectedly warmed by the gesture.

With a final glance at the sleeping figure before him, Zhihui carefully replaced the diary and silently retreated from the room. As he made his way back to his own quarters, his thoughts were consumed by the enigma of Zhi Yong's sketches and the newfound feelings stirring within him.

Since that night, I found myself tending to Zhi Yong's injuries more often than not, a silent guardian in the shadows, offering aid whenever he needed it. Each time I wrapped his wounds, my gaze would inevitably drift to the sketches in his diary.

Most of the time, I had no idea when he had drawn them, but there were moments when I knew. Moments when I had caught him stealing glances in my direction, his pen moving across the pages with a fervor that betrayed his emotions.

I knew I should have maintained a distance, kept our relationship strictly professional. But it seemed impossible to me. After spending countless hours immersed in the pages of his story, finding solace and companionship within the confines of my imagination, how could I simply let it go?

Zhi Yong had become more than just a disciple; he had become a beacon of light in the darkness of my world, a reminder that even in the midst of chaos, there was still beauty to be found. And as much as I tried to resist, I found myself drawn to him in ways I couldn't fully comprehend.

But for now, I would continue to watch over him from afar, silently cherishing the moments we shared, and wondering if he could ever see me as anything more than just his shizun.