The silence in the private room was so thick it was a physical presence, a crushing weight of a decade's worth of unspoken words, of pain, and of love. Wei Chen's hand was clenched on the hilt of his sword, his suspicion a palpable aura directed at the strange noblewoman and her child. Xue Lian stood frozen, her glamour feeling as thin as ice, a ghost confronted by her own past. Lan Yue's mind was a shattered mirror, reflecting a thousand conflicting emotions.
It was the ten year old who broke the spell.
Princess Xue An, who had been looking back and forth between the sad, pretty lady and the angry man threatening her mother, decided she had seen quite enough. She slid off her chair, planted her small hands on her hips, and glared at Wei Chen with the full, unadulterated indignation of a child whose birthday party has just been ruined.
"Hey, you ugly uncle!" she announced, her voice ringing with startling authority. "Put your hand away from your sword! You're being very rude to my mother! We are nobles!"
The sheer, unexpected bluntness of the insult was a bucket of ice water thrown over the entire explosive situation. Wei Chen froze, his mouth slightly agape. He was Elder Wei Chen, a living legend. No one had spoken to him like this in his entire life. He was so profoundly flabbergasted that his aggression momentarily vanished, replaced by sheer, sputtering disbelief.
A faint, traitorous smile tugged at the corner of Lan Yue's lips before she suppressed it. This was the moment. She took command. Stepping gracefully forward, her serene presence radiated a power that immediately took control of the room.
"Wei Chen," she said, her voice calm but absolute. He turned to her, still looking stunned. "Sheathe your sword. Now."
"But Yue," he stammered, gesturing at Xue Lian, "these people… their energy is strange, and your reaction…"
"They are reclusive nobles, likely from one of the celestial clans who rarely interact with the world," Lan Yue stated, feeding him a plausible, authoritative lie. "Their glamour is powerful, but they are not our concern. Can you not see you are making a scene and terrifying a child on her birthday? Your conduct is unbecoming of an Elder of the Azure Cloud Sect." She softened her tone just slightly, giving him a mission instead of a rebuke. "Go outside. Stand guard at the door. Ensure that no one disturbs us while I ascertain the situation. That is an order."
Wei Chen, though still deeply suspicious, was cornered. He was honor bound to obey a direct command from his mission superior, especially one framed around her safety. He gave Xue Lian one last mistrustful glare, then bowed stiffly to Lan Yue. "As you command, Saint Yue." He turned and exited the room, the door sliding shut behind him, his simmering, hostile presence now a silent guard just outside.
Now, it was just the three of them. The silence that descended was a thousand times more tense than before.
"Mother, who is she?" Xue An asked, tugging on Xue Lian's sleeve.
Xue Lian opened her mouth, but no words came out. She just looked at Lan Yue, her amber eyes a swirling vortex of a decade of unspoken apologies, explanations, and heartbreak.
Seeing her at a loss, Lan Yue knelt, bringing herself to eye level with the small princess. "My name is Lan Yue," she said, her voice softer than it had been in years. "I am… an old acquaintance of your mother's. We lost touch a long time ago."
Xue An considered this with the solemnity of a judge. Then, her face broke into a brilliant, innocent smile that was a painful echo of a joy Lan Yue had once known. "Well, you're here for my birthday!" she declared, grabbing Lan Yue's hand with one of hers and Xue Lian's with the other, pulling them toward the table. "You have to have cake with us! We have to light the candle again so my mother's friend can see!"
The child's excitement was an irresistible force, a current of pure, innocent joy that made it impossible for the two women to continue their silent, painful standoff. Awkwardly, they allowed themselves to be led to the table, taking seats on either side of their daughter.
The celebration that followed was the most emotionally charged and deeply strange event of their lives. At Xue An's insistence, they re lit the single candle. The two women, separated by a chasm of lies and longing, sang a quiet, hesitant birthday song together, their voices a strange, fragile harmony. Xue An, beaming between them, blew out the candle with a happy shout.
As Xue Lian cut the cake, her movements graceful and maternal, Lan Yue watched her every move. She saw the profound, unconditional love in Xue Lian's eyes as she looked at their daughter. This gentle, loving mother was a universe away from the cold, calculating strategist depicted in the letter. Which one is real? her heart screamed.
The conversation was stilted, filtered through the happy chatter of the princess.
"Lady Lan Yue," Xue An said formally, her mouth full of cake, "My mother tells stories about my other parent. She says they were a great hero from the mortal realm! She says they were the most powerful and honorable person she ever knew."
Lan Yue's fork stilled on her plate. Her gaze shot to Xue Lian, searching, demanding. Is this true?
Across the table, Xue Lian met her gaze. Her own eyes were glistening with unshed tears. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
The contradiction was a dizzying, painful storm in Lan Yue's mind. The letter had called her a tool, a transaction. But for ten years, Xue Lian had been telling their daughter she was a hero.
Eventually, the cake was finished. The excitement of the long day finally caught up to Xue An, and her head began to droop, eventually coming to rest on her mother's lap, fast asleep.
The fragile, child enforced truce was over.
Xue Lian looked at Lan Yue, the silence between them now heavy with everything that had just been revealed, and everything that was still unsaid. "Thank you," she whispered, the words carrying the weight of a decade.
Lan Yue stood, her face a mask of calm that concealed the war within her. "My partner is waiting. We have a mission." She was retreating, re establishing the wall between them.
"Lan Yue," Xue Lian said, her voice a desperate, broken plea.
Lan Yue paused at the door, her back to them. Her own voice was a low, pained whisper.
"The letter… Was any of it true?"
She slid the door open and was gone, leaving Xue Lian alone with their sleeping child and the single, most important question of her life hanging, unanswered, in the silent air.