Mu Qinxue's fingers traced the rim of her cup, her voice gentler now. "You carry it well. Too well, perhaps. Most would use such a burden to excuse themselves from others. You… allow it, yet keep it at arm's length."
She leaned forward, the faintest smile still in place. "Tell me, Tian Lei—when you stand in the Mist Azure's light, when every eye seeks to measure you—will you guard yourself the same way? Or will you let them see what lies beneath that stillness?"
The question hung heavy, like a blade unsheathed but not yet swung.
Tian Lei's gaze lowered to the steaming tea, then rose again, calm and unflinching. "That depends," he said evenly. "On whether the truth serves the sect… or betrays it."
For the first time, Mu Qinxue's smile faltered, replaced by something harder to read—respect, perhaps, or quiet unease.
