Most things she learned, it was from Yuezhan. It was a weird balancing act, growing up between the streets and the Yuezhan sect. The nicer older sisters who were more into the dual cultivation thing, had offered advice. Some of them were nice. And Lifen watched them prepare, watched them tell each other stories. She didn't know where she'd fit in there. All Lifen knew back then was that she'd become a stronger cultivator if she stayed there and kept working. Eyes on the prize. No time for relationships.

Imagine if the sun was a person, she had told him. It is all, by means, a damning statement. And it is a sign that those sentiments run deep - even if it has been almost a decade. Those feelings will change - eventually. They have to change, because just like Miss St. Romaine, they all have to dust up their feet and take things head-on.

That's life. That's how it works. But this lowkey sad moment and its reality is that seven years gone, and what she still feels about him, is still present, and that it runs deep and it has remain constant, after years of repression. But it's a part of her.

No one has made her turn her head, not even the pretty doctor, so well. But if someone pretty were to turn her head, and then see her - all in her burns and ferocity- and not judge her and the whole world can remain so still, as if it was made just for her and them, then maybe there is a chance her feelings might change. And maybe she'll eventually move on from those.

"Iseul?"

Iseul knew that voice from anywhere. She spun on her heel - slowly, but fast enough that her hair whipped, moving with her. She moved like water and lightning - fluid and fast, and quick to find a direction, in spite of everything. The Petran breeze - and the sight of her cousin standing before her. Well, if that did not feel NostalgicTM enough. The sight of her cousin made her think back to old days. The oats Iseul had sown. And the day she had left home - for strength. For power, to surpass and beat Risa at anything.

This was reality. This was no illusion; even if she had not yet discovered if she had a preference and liking for magic, Iseul could easily tell if it was one or not. There had been lies spun on cobwebs and politicking much of where she had gone. What was honor, after all, compared to power? And title and strength, compared to love and acknowledgement? But then Risa had all those - and maybe it was why deep inside, the hatred continued to simmer. Resentment was poison.

And jealousy was a root, rotting and fresh and smoking inside of where Iseul's heart used to be.