***
The scent of cherry blossoms drifted through the garden, soft and lingering. Petals swayed in the breeze, scattering across the stone pavilion where Rong Xi sat, his posture relaxed, a cup of tea poised in his hand.
He exhaled slowly, golden eyes half-lidded as though the world outside this garden barely concerned him.
From the shaded corridor, a figure in black robes approached and bowed low. "Your Highness."
Rong Xi lifted his gaze with a lazy hum. "Mm?"
"An incident has occurred in the central district," the man reported. "The carriage of Lady Shang Qing Ye and her two daughters was overturned."
His fingers tapped lightly against the rim of his cup. His tone carried the faintest edge of boredom. "An accident? And you deemed that worth my time?"
The man hesitated. "Not quite an accident. It was caused by magic."
That earned his attention. His brows lifted slightly, though his expression stayed composed.
The man went on carefully. "Witnesses claimed a young girl released an uncontrolled burst of power. It struck the carriage wheel. And before the incident… she called Lady Shang 'Mother.'"
Rong Xi finally set his gaze on him.
A child?
He had heard whispers years ago about a third daughter of the Shang family. A sickly child, tucked away from the public eye ever since birth. Rumors swirled years ago that the girl had supposedly fallen gravely ill, so much so that she was sent away to recover in secrecy.
Could this be the child?
A child who should have been weak, unleashing magic?
His gaze drifted back toward the blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. How curious.
Magic was never discreet. Even the faintest use of it left traces behind, like footprints in the dirt. But following those traces was never simple. Most people treated magic only as a tool, never once wondering where its current had flowed or what threads it had left behind. Only a handful had the ability to chase those trails, to feel their essence unwind through the air and across the world.
And that kind of power belonged only to the strong.
For him, it came as easily as breathing.
He closed his eyes, lashes lowering in calm repose, and let his magic extend outward. The world around him thinned into strands and whispers. Invisible currents stirred through streets and rooftops, across the remnants of the broken carriage.
His power threaded through it all, gliding past the ordinary until it caught on the discordant pulse that didn't belong.
And there it was.
The faint trace of a child's magic, raw and unstable.
Rong Xi's lips curved faintly. Found you.
His fingers lifted, idly sketching patterns into the air. Smooth arcs of light followed his touch, threads appearing one after another—thin as silk, bending and weaving at his command.
No, he did not open a portal. That would have been far too abrupt.
Instead, he shifted the path itself.
An alley stretched a little longer than it should have. A turn curved just a little further. And the girl and her companion—oblivious—simply walked on without realizing, guided by threads they could not see.
His eyes opened halfway again, his gaze falling on a quiet spot along the garden—waiting.
***
Su Mi barely realized what had happened. One second they were weaving through narrow backstreets, and the next—without knowing how—they found themselves standing in a quiet courtyard.
Yao Yao stared at the boy, a little spaced out. He looked far too composed, too much at ease, as if the entire place belonged to him.
Isn't this just a normal garden? Her eyes flicked around uneasily. Or… is it private?
Either way, he didn't seem particularly nice. That superior look on his face was all too familiar—the exact kind she hated most. She'd seen it too many times before, in people who thought authority alone gave them the right to look down on others.
Rong Xi tilted his head slightly, his voice slipping out smooth and low. "Then why are you?"
Yao Yao scowled. "How should I know?!"
His eyes shifted, studying her more closely. The child before him was nothing like the rumors—her bright pink eyes sparked with defiance, brimming with energy. Not the picture of someone supposedly frail and hidden away.
He leaned back with languid ease, one elbow propped against the table, and asked almost lazily, "Who are you?"
She said nothing, lips pressing tight. She had no intention of following his lead. And yet she felt it—that pull. A subtle charm about this man, the kind of presence that didn't need to raise its voice. The kind that made people fall into step without realizing.
Wait. A man?
Yao Yao blinked, her thoughts stumbling. He was just a boy, wasn't he? And yet… something about him felt much older.
The silence stretched until Su Mi blurted quickly, "We should get going—"
Yao Yao latched onto it instantly. "Yeah. Thanks for the, uh… garden. We'll be leaving now." She pivoted on her heel, Su Mi right behind her.
Except—
She stopped.
Her pink eyes swept the courtyard, unease prickling at her skin. Something was off. The path ahead didn't look right. Left, right—she couldn't even tell where they had entered.
Su Mi whispered beside her, voice trembling. "Yao Yao… which way did we come from?"
Yao Yao opened her mouth and froze. She didn't… know. The alleys had all looked the same earlier, twisting and curving until the memory blurred. And now—there was no alley at all. Nothing but the garden, stretching endlessly around them.
A chill crawled up her spine.
Behind her, the boy's voice rang out, casual and mocking. "What are you looking for?"
Yao Yao gasped and spun around, glare sharp. "The alley, obviously!"
Rong Xi lifted his cup and sipped leisurely. "Oh?"
Su Mi's face paled. "It was… just there."
But it wasn't.
It was gone.
Yao Yao's fingers twitched.
Thinking back, the alley had already felt strange. Some parts dragged on too long, some turns curved a little too sharp, like the path itself had been twisted out of place.
Did they really just wander here by mistake?
Or… had they been led?
Her chest tightened. She'd felt this before—the gut-deep feeling that told her something wasn't right.
And him. That boy. Sitting there so calmly, watching her too patiently, showing up far too conveniently.
His voice broke the silence. "What's your name?"
Yao Yao clamped her lips shut. No way was she answering him that.
Rong Xi hummed, the sound low and amused, like he'd already expected her stubbornness.
Then, she lifted her chin defiantly and asked, "And why should I tell you?"
The air went still.
Then—he smiled.
"You shouldn't," he said lightly, a chuckle breaking through his words.
Yao Yao blinked.
…Huh?
"Well then," he said smoothly, "I suppose it's time you find your way out."
With a graceful tilt of his hand, he gestured toward the far corner of the garden. "If you wish to leave, feel free."
Yao Yao's gaze followed, and her breath caught.
Because there—standing where it hadn't been before—was the alleyway.