THE REAL PROTEGE

Old Master Li's voice rang with paternal sincerity.

"Ehem… then Murphy, rest assured —from now on, we are your family." His words felt ceremonial, as though sealing an invisible pact.

Madam Li leaned forward slightly, her hands folded tightly. Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes, but she smiled, a fragile smile blooming like spring's first flower.

"Yes," she added, her voice trembling with tenderness, "You and Pharsa are a match made in heaven. Call us Mom and Dad… just like she does."

Chatty blinked rapidly, overwhelmed. Emotion surged through his throat so fast he barely stood without tipping his chair. He bowed deeply, almost knocking into the edge of the table.

"Thank you… Mom… Dad," he said, nearly choking on the words. His voice cracked as gratitude spilled from his chest.

Old Master Li chuckled with delight, eyes crinkling.

"Good son. Good, good." His hearty tone filled the room, softening the tension just enough for a breath of relief.

Chatty sat down again, cheeks flushed, still stunned by the unexpected warmth.

He turned toward Pharsa, his voice laced with quiet nervousness.

"You have such a loving family. You… you don't mind me being an orphan, do you?"

Pharsa stared at him with searching eyes —eyes that had learned to measure people carefully. Then she shook her head slowly.

"What about you?" Pharsa asked. Her tone was gentle, but steel lay hidden beneath.

"You don't mind me being tossed aside like a mistake… thrown to a temple by parents who didn't want me?"

The question fell like a stone into a still pond, its ripples stretching across the room.

Chatty's response was immediate, firm, and full of conviction.

"No way. Definitely not." Then, softer, more intimate:

"Honestly… when I learned that about you, it made me love you even more. You endured. You didn't just survive —you became you."

Pharsa's eyes flickered with surprise. She looked away, nodding faintly, lips pressed into a line. She didn't speak again, but something in her posture shifted —less guarded, more quietly open.

Just then, the door opened and Mushu walked back in, brushing dust from his sleeve. His expression bore news.

"Old Master," he announced, "Shinsei has confirmed. He'll come in person —I've already arranged for his plane."

The room stirred.

Old Master Li exhaled, nodded, then reached for his cup with both hands.

"Then let us wait for Shinsei. He should arrive by lunchtime."

There was movement again. Servants began clearing dishes, and refreshed tea was poured. Although much of the food remained untouched, the atmosphere had subtly changed. Between grief and danger, kinship had bloomed unexpectedly.

Outside, the wind carried the scent of rain.

Inside, destinies were aligning.

The breeze in the courtyard whispered through the bamboo leaves, casting flickering shadows across the koi pond. Pharsa sat quietly on the carved stone bench beneath the magnolia tree, her fingers tracing the embroidery on her sleeve without focus, which says 'Chief Li.'

Chatty appeared in the doorway, hesitant at first, then stepped forward with gentle deliberation.

"Everyone's busy preparing for Shinsei's arrival," he said, voice low. "I thought… maybe we could talk. Just us."

Pharsa looked up, her expression unreadable, but she didn't object. She simply nodded once.

Chatty sat beside her, leaving just enough space to respect the silence between them. His eyes drifted to the koi pond, then back to her.

"You were quiet earlier," he said softly. "When we talked about our pasts."

Pharsa let out a shallow breath. "I was thinking about how strange it feels… to be claimed by family I didn't ask for, and by fate I didn't choose. But showered me with all the love one needs."

Chatty tilted his head. "Do you feel trapped?"

Pharsa hesitated. "Not exactly. It's more like… I've lived so long under silence and survival, I don't know what freedom feels like. I love the Li family and I'm truly grateful to each one of them, and I couldn't ask for more," Her voice cracked just slightly, but she steadied herself.

Chatty listened, tension rising in his throat.

"When I was younger," he began, "I used to imagine a family that never forgot me. But in truth, I always felt like a ghost in my own story. Even before I knew the meaning of loss."

Pharsa turned to him, eyes glimmering not with tears, but with clarity. "So when they called me a perfect match for you," she said slowly, "it scared me. Not because I doubted us, but because I'm still figuring out who I am. What I want."

Chatty nodded, accepting her truth without flinching.

"Pharsa, you don't owe me anything —not even love. But I'll never turn away from you. Not for your past, not for your pain. Not for your power." His voice grew firmer. "If all I am to you is someone who can stand beside you in the storm, then I'll stand."

Pharsa's lips twitched —almost a smile. She reached out slowly, her fingers brushing against his. She couldn't believe Chatty could speak in such a serious manner. "You're not just someone standing beside me. You're the first person who made me believe I could rewrite what was written."

The wind rustled again. A petal dropped between them.

Chatty clasped her hand, and this time, she didn't let go.

At that exact moment, the bedroom door creaked open and in tumbled Kim Kim, her tiny feet padding across the floor as she climbed uninvited onto the bed where Ling Li and Four Eyes lounged with books in hand.

Without hesitation, she leaned her weight onto her mother's side, nearly toppling over. Ling Li instinctively looped an arm around her, shielding her belly protectively, the maternal reflex swift and unshakable.

"Kim Kim, why are you here? Where is your sister?" Ling Li asked, eyebrows raised in quiet concern as she pulled the child closer.

"Chin Chin's with Uncle Mushu," Kim Kim chirped, settling into the folds of her mother's robe. "She wants to learn how to use slingshots, and Uncle Mushu is making her one!"

Ling Li blinked. "And what about you? Wouldn't you like to learn too?"

"Of course I do!" Kim Kim exclaimed with a proud puff of her chest.

"Uncle Mushu promised to make me one too… but I'd much rather learn how to use swords!" Her one-year-old voice was so bold it sounded almost royal.