The morning in Yinshi smelled of damp rice straw and drifting incense. Yujin, dressed in a traveling cloak, left the pavilion quietly — but Xiao had followed him to the gate, red ribbon at his wrist fluttering in the breeze.
"Trying to leave without telling me?" Xiao teased, voice low — but his eyes gave him away: worry, hope, fear, tangled together.
Yujin's hand paused over the gate latch.
"Not without telling you," he answered softly. "I'm going to the lower market. Someone there remembers a merchant with wine on his breath — the one you recalled."
Xiao's breath caught.
"And if you find him…?"
"Then maybe we find your first name," Yujin said. "Or at least, the road he took you from."
"And if you don't?" Xiao asked, quieter still.
Yujin didn't look away.
"Then tomorrow, I search again."
Midday: Lower Yinshi Market
Smoke from cooking stalls curled over cracked tiles. Yujin moved through the crowd, hood low, ears tuned to every rumor.
A basket-maker remembered:
"Yes… a wine-trader who traveled north-south, carried a boy with dark hair. Must be ten, twelve years past…"
A tanner shook his head:
"He died years ago, road fever. Had no kin I knew."
A clue — then ash again.
At Dusk: Cloud Recesses
Lan Wangji and Sizhui stood before the Cold Pond. Petals floated silent across its mirrored surface.
"Wei Ying…" Wangji thought, gaze far, "in every corner, they still speak your name — some with fear, some with longing."
Sizhui, silent at his side, carried rumors gathered in town:
A masked man with burned scars Disappearances near border towns A pavilion courtesan whose name did not match any census
"Yinshi holds more than it shows," Sizhui murmured.
Wangji nodded once, silent resolve etched in stillness.
Night: Back at the Pavilion
Yujin returned, lantern-light catching tired eyes, hair damp from rain.
Xiao waited on the upper balcony, shawl around his shoulders.
"Did you find him?" Xiao asked, voice carefully flat.
"Only that he died, years ago," Yujin answered. "But… a woman said the boy he traveled with had a lotus birthmark near the collarbone."
Xiao froze, hand instinctively rising to his collar. He'd always hidden the faint lotus-shaped mark there, thinking it shameful.
"It might be you," Yujin said gently. "And if it is… we look further north next."
Xiao tried to speak, but words snagged in his throat. Instead, he pressed his forehead lightly to Yujin's shoulder.
Later that Night
By lamplight, Xiao traced calligraphy strokes over an old scrap of paper.
"Why do you keep that red ribbon?" Yujin asked suddenly.
"Because the Yiling Patriarch wore red," Xiao whispered. "And because when you first came here, you looked at it — you saw me, not just a courtesan."
"I still do," Yujin replied, voice quiet.
Xiao's throat tightened.
"And if you find out I'm no one special… just an unwanted child?"
"Then I'll still see you," Yujin said.
Far from them, in ruined shrine walls
The masked enemy listened to reports:
"The Lan junior is searching the courtesan's past," a scout whispered.
The man's scarred mouth curved into a cold grin.
"Let him. Sometimes digging for truth unearths things better left buried."