Lan Yue slid the door shut, the soft click echoing the sound of a cage locking behind her. She turned to face Wei Chen, her expression a carefully constructed mask of weary composure. He stood in the hallway, his arms crossed, his entire posture radiating suspicion and impatience.
"Yue! What was the meaning of that?" he demanded, his voice a low, angry hiss. "You were gone for an age. Who was that woman, and what did she say to you?"
For ten years, Lan Yue had lived a lie, her every interaction a performance. She drew on that decade of practice now, letting a flicker of calculated exhaustion show in her eyes. "You were right to be suspicious, Wei Chen," she said, her voice quiet, forcing him to lean closer and listen. "She is… more than she appears."
She saw the flicker of vindication in his eyes and knew she had him hooked.
"She is an elder of the Silvermist clan," Lan Yue lied, inventing a name for a reclusive, semi mythical celestial family known for their power and arrogance. "She recognized my spiritual signature. Her clan's territory borders the Void tainted lands to the west. She had questions, and warnings. It was a… delicate diplomatic discussion."
Wei Chen's suspicion warred with his ingrained respect for her authority. A celestial elder? It was a plausible explanation for the woman's strange power and haughty demeanor. "A potential ally?" he pressed.
"A potential, if prickly, one," Lan Yue confirmed, planting the seed of an idea. "She values her clan's privacy above all. We must not antagonize her or draw attention to her presence. To do so could jeopardize any future cooperation."
She had masterfully turned his suspicion into a reason to avoid Xue Lian, framing it as a matter of high level strategy. He was still visibly unconvinced, but he had no grounds to dispute a direct report from his superior. He gave a stiff, reluctant nod. "I will trust your judgment, for now. But I do not like it. We should return to the inn."
Back in the cold silence of her own room, Lan Yue finally allowed the façade to crumble. She leaned against the door, the cool wood a grounding presence as the reality of the last hour washed over her.
It was a lie.
The cruel words of the letter, the entire foundation of her decade of grief, had been a lie. A terrible, selfless, agonizing lie. The betrayal that had hollowed out her soul was, in fact, an act of the most profound, desperate love she had ever known. A wave of emotion so potent relief, rage, joy, and a deep, sorrowful ache for their lost years crashed through her, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.
Her fingers brushed against the small, smooth stone Xue Lian had given her. She pulled it from her sleeve. It was a Whispering Stone, cool to the touch, dark as a Netherworld night. She clutched it in her palm, channeling a sliver of her spiritual energy into its depths. She didn't know what to say. Words were too small for the emotions churning inside her. So she sent no words. She simply pushed a feeling into the stone a pure, unadulterated wave of gratitude, of overwhelming relief, and of the unyielding, steadfast love that had survived a decade of ash and ice.
Xue Lian returned to the private room to find her daughter sleeping peacefully, her head on the table, a smudge of cream on her cheek. She gently woke her, her heart a frantic, hopeful drum.
"Come, my love. It is time to go back to the inn."
The walk back through the lantern lit streets was quiet. Xue An, sleepy and content, held her mother's hand.
"Mother?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur. "Was that lady… the Celestial Warrior from your stories?"
Xue Lian's breath hitched. Her clever, clever daughter. "Yes, An," she said softly. "That was her."
"Why was she so sad? And why were you?"
Xue Lian looked down at her daughter, at the living, breathing proof of their love. "Because we were apart for a very, very long time," she said, the simple truth the only answer she could give. "And it is a long, difficult story."
Back at their inn, once Xue An was safely tucked into bed, Xue Lian collapsed into a chair, the emotional toll of the night crashing down on her. She pulled the matching Whispering Stone from her sleeve, her thumb stroking its smooth surface. Had she been too rash? Had she pushed Lan Yue too far? Would she even come tomorrow?
And then, the stone warmed in her hand.
It wasn't a voice. It was a feeling. A wave of pure, unambiguous emotion flowed from the stone directly into her soul gratitude so profound it felt like a homecoming, relief so deep it felt like a prayer, and a love so powerful and enduring it felt like the sun rising after a ten year night.
A single tear of pure, unadulterated joy escaped her eye, the first of its kind she had shed in a decade. She clutched the stone to her heart, a silent, choked laugh bubbling in her chest. She was understood. She was forgiven.
She raised the stone, her own emotions a torrent. She poured all her warmth, all her relief, all her fierce, protective love into it, and then focused on a single, clear image: the first light of dawn striking the high, pointed roof of the city's western archive tower. A confirmation. A promise.
In their separate rooms, under the same unfamiliar moon, two queens held the stones that had just bridged a decade of silence. The lies were broken. The truth was known. And for the first time in ten years, neither of them felt truly alone. Tomorrow, they would begin again.