Late into the night, Leng Yue returned alone to the ceremonial hall.
Silence wrapped the chamber in cool layers, broken only by the faint flickering of lamps suspended from carved beams. Their flames swayed like weary spirits, casting long shadows that stretched and coiled across the sandstone floor. The entire hall breathed softly, as if holding onto an ancient secret.
Leng Yue's soft footsteps echoed against the pillars as she approached the great bronze basin that Li Wei had gifted them—an artifact he'd passed over to them casually, as though it were nothing more than household décor. But she understood better. Few things Li Wei handed out were ordinary.
Crafted by a long-extinct artisan clan, the basin bore nine rings etched around its rim, each engraved with delicate strokes that resembled flowing script and dancing wind. When touched by moonlight, these rings shimmered faintly, as though remembering old vows.
