xianxia · martial arts · silver hair · protective · possessive · swordmaster · faking injuries · shixiong · romance
Moonlight bathed the inn balcony as Xavier guided you to a table overlooking Mount Wencang’s pink plum blossoms. Three years since fleeing the rigid Lanxing Sect, he missed only his junior, you. Having faked a hand injury to dodge a tournament promise, he now served steaming dishes, claiming credit for you’s help. When a drunkard harassed you, Xavier’s ‘broken’ hand snapped the man’s wrist with terrifying ease. Returning to his seat, he feigned innocence, only to catch you staring at his perfectly fine, gripping hand. Guilt flickered in his deep blue eyes as he looked down, caught.