Midnight — Silent Forest
The bonfire they lit crackled gently, casting flickering golden light across their exhausted faces. It warmed their aching limbs after the brutal battle, and for a moment, the cold forest seemed less menacing.
"We finally acquired the second cure!" Guanlin said with a wide, relieved grin, rubbing his hands together, leaning close to the flames. "We're actually getting somewhere…"
Yuanli glanced briefly at Jinxiao, who stood motionless, then turned her gaze toward Wen Lu — who looked stiff, conflicted. His hands twitched slightly at his sides.
Jinxiao took a silent step forward, his expression unreadable. He reached inside his dark robe and pulled out a neatly folded piece of thick gray thread. "Here," he said in a low voice, holding it out. "Take the fur. Keep it safe."
"Thanks, Zhong Jinxiao," Guanlin said with a nod. "We can finally move on to the next one."
But Jinxiao didn't linger. He turned away almost immediately, his long silhouette melting into the shadows. "We're leaving now," he announced sharply.
"Wait—what? Where are we going?" Guanlin asked, standing up quickly, brows furrowing. "We should rest first. Then we move."
He pulled out the creased map from his robes. "It looks like the next place is Xiping. The passion fruit that only blooms once a year."
"My father passed through there recently," Yuanli chimed in, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "He said the tree had already bloomed 3 month ago. There are only some few fruits left." She slung her satchel over her shoulder. "Lai Guanlin, let's go."
Jinxiao kept walking.
"Wen Lu. Let's go," he called calmly without turning back.
But Wen Lu didn't budge. He stared into the flames, his jaw clenched, eyes reflecting the firelight as he clenched his fist onto his sword.
"Wen Lu!" Jinxiao called again, more firmly. "Now."
The silence broke.
"Wait!" Wen Lu ran toward Guanlin, standing beside him like a shield. His voice trembled. "Childe Zhong, I… I have to help Guanlin with this. If I've broken any orders, punish me when I come back. But I can't leave him now."
Jinxiao stopped. His voice, when it came, was dangerously quiet. "Wen Lu… have you lost your mind?"
"I haven't," Wen Lu answered, voice rising with emotion. "I just… I just can't leave him behind. His mother is poisoned and suffering. We… I need to help him."
"What's going on?" Guanlin looked between them, heart beginning to race. "Song Yuanli… do you know about this?"
"Bro Lin…" Wen Lu sighed. "Childe Zhong isn't really poisoned. We're still unsure what's causing his attacks, but it's definitely not poison, his leg seemed completely fine upon checking."
Guanlin's mouth parted in disbelief. "Since when did you know?"
"Since yesterday," Yuanli answered quietly. "They didn't tell you earlier because they didn't want you to feel like they were only helping you out of guilt."
Jinxiao's hand flexed over the hilt of his sword. His eyes locked on Yuanli, sharp as blades.
"Zhong Jinxiao… is that true?" Guanlin asked, his voice heavy with betrayal.
Jinxiao looked away. "The Golden Palace needs us, Guanlin," he murmured. "You of all people should understand."
"I do," Guanlin whispered, swallowing back emotion. "Then I guess… we part ways here then."
"I'm coming with you," Yuanli added quickly.
Guanlin gave her a small nod. "Me too," Wen Lu said firmly.
Jinxiao's gaze darkened. "Wen Lu… did you forget what I told you yesterday?"
If you go with him, consider yourself withdrawn from the Shadow Sect.
Wen Lu hesitated, eyes glossy. "But—"
"It's alright," Guanlin interrupted softly. "Our Palace needs you both. We can go on from here."
"Bro Lin," Wen Lu's voice cracked. "We're from the same place. I can't just turn my back on you now. I—"
"Maybe you should ask Childe Zhong why it's so easy for him to leave," Yuanli said coldly, her arms crossed.
Jinxiao exhaled heavily, turning his back to them. His cloak fluttered as he walked away into the dark.
"Go. Follow him," Guanlin said gently.
Wen Lu lingered for a long, painful second… then gave Guanlin a deep bow before chasing after Jinxiao.
As the footsteps faded, silence returned.
Guanlin turned to Yuanli. "Why are you coming with me?"
She began walking. "Because I'm not like other people."
"That's not an answer," Guanlin replied, catching up.
Yuanli sighed and stopped mid-step, the moonlight catching her profile. "Because… I don't want your mother to suffer like mine did. When she passed, it felt like something was ripped out of me. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."
"But why would you care?" Guanlin asked quietly. "We barely know each other."
"You ask too many questions," she muttered, walking ahead. "Come on."
----
Zhongyin Palace
"Young Leader Wen," He Xicheng's voice softly.
Wen Yin looked up from his sword, wiping the blade with calm precision. "Yes?"
"Do you… always stay inside the palace?" Xicheng asked, standing awkwardly nearby.
Wen Yin gave a short laugh. "Why? Are you getting bored of me already?"
Xicheng lowered his gaze. "No, it's not that. It's just… there's not much to do here."
Wen Yin grinned, standing abruptly. "You want to do something fun with me?"
Xicheng blinked. "W–What kind of fun, Young Leader Wen?"
Wen Yin didn't answer. He sheathed his sword running towards Xicheng and grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him toward outside.
"Y–Young Leader Wen?! Where are we going?!"
"You said you were bored, right?" Wen Yin chuckled. "So let's go have fun."
Xicheng blushed awkwardly and tried to hide it in his robe sleeve.
As they left the hall, Wen Jingli spotted them. "Young Leader Wen, where are you off to?!"
"Just outside!" Wen Yin called.
"But your father—he's almost home! Don't you want to greet him inside?" Jingli said urgently.
They both stopped in their tracks.
"He's coming now?" Wen Yin asked.
"That's right," she nodded.
Xicheng gently pulled his hand from Wen Yin's grip. "Young Leader Wen… maybe we should go back. You should meet your father."
Wen Yin stared at the horizon for a moment before grabbing Xicheng's hand again. "He doesn't care. He barely notices anyway. I always do this."
The streets of Zhongyin were alive with laughter and the hum of vendors calling out deals as they finally reached it. Wen Yin smiled as passersby waved at him.
"What do you want to do? Eat? Buy something? Sit by the lake? You name something that defines your fun." Wen Yin smiled
"I… I don't know," Xicheng said nervously, hands clenched around his robe.
They stopped at a stall selling handmade headbands.
"Look!" Wen Yin ran ahead, Xicheng jogging after him.
"Headbands?"
Wen Yin picked one up and reached for Xicheng's hair. "Stop moving—I'm seeing if this suits you."
"Young Leader Wen, you really don't have to—"
"Why are you so stiff?" Wen Yin pouted. "You wanted fun, didn't you?"
"I'm just… worried your father might be upset if he returns and you're not there."
Wen Yin softened. "Don't worry about him. Now put this on. Everyone in Zhongyin should look their best."
Xicheng finally relented. Wen Yin purchased it and tied it carefully on his hair.
"Do I really look good?" Xicheng asked, touching the fabric as it dangles.
"It's perfect," Wen Yin replied warmly. "I like how it shines in your hair."
Xicheng smiled for the first time that day.
"Aha! There's that smile! Finally, you almost sound like you wanna die everyday." Wen Yin teased.
Xicheng chuckled softly.
"Come on, let's get some meat. I know the best place."
Two Hours Later — Zhongyin Palace Gates
The sun dipped low as they returned. Wen Yin's laugh echoed down the palace road, until—
"Ehh? Wen Jingli? What are you doing outside the gate?" Wen Yin asked.
She looked pale and panicked. "Your father has arrived. And… he's furious."
Wen Yin's smile vanished. "What…?"
He burst through the gates, Xicheng and Jingli running after him.
At the throne door, he flung it open and dropped to his knees before his father, Wen Hangzhuan.
"Diē… you've returned. How was your trip?" he asked, hiding his fear.
Wen Hangzhuan's eyes were storms.
"WEN ZHIYI, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" he roared, smashing the teapot in front of him, breaking it into pieaces.
Wen Yin flinched violently, keeping his knees on the floor. Jingli rushed forward.
"It's my fault! I let him out. I should've stopped him—"
"You think I won't punish you for that?!" Hangzhuan hissed.
"I ordered it," Wen Yin said, bowing lower. "I take full responsibility."
But Xicheng stepped forward, heart pounding. He dropped to his knees, lowering until his head touched the ground. "Clan Leader Wen, it was my fault. I asked him to take me outside for something fun."
"Who even are you?!" Hangzhuan bellowed. "Fun?! During times like this?!"
"Diē, I found him near the main entrance of Zhongyin. A beggar. He lost his family so I took him in, and now he helps me everyday."
"You're letting in STRANGERS now?! Have you forgotten the orders of the Young Lord, Wen Yin?!"
Hangzhuan drew his sword.
"Diē, please! He hasn't done anything wrong!" Wen Yin Pleaded.
Wen Hangzhuan slashed his sword, and a shockwave from the blade struck Wen Yin, flinging him back.
"LEADER WEN—SPARE HIM! PUNISH ME INSTEAD!" Xicheng shouted desperately.
Another shockwave and Xicheng fell as well.
"You've made a grave mistake, Wen Yin," Hangzhuan muttered, panting.
"Please… calm down," Jingli begged. "They're just young. Let them learn."
"You—!"
Hangzhuan collapsed back into his chair.
"Hueding was attacked last night," he said hoarsely. "If you'd been here, you would've gotten the message in time." Hangzhuan said, his voice slowly calming down.
Wen Yin's eyes widened, the weight of guilt crashing into him like a tide. "Diē, I'm so sorry… I should've known. It's all my fault," he said, his voice trembling as he took a hesitant step forward.
Hangzhuan didn't even look up. His voice was sharp and tired, like a sword dulled from battle. "All of you, leave now. I need some breather."
The air grew cold.
Jingli, Xicheng, and Wen Yin exchanged glances before quietly rising. No one dared to speak further. The room's heavy silence was louder than any scolding. As they stepped out, Jingli gently shut the door behind them with a soft click, like sealing away the storm.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Xicheng turned and dropped to his knees before Wen Yin, his hands clenched into fists on the ground.
"Young Leader Wen, it's all my fault," he said, bowing low. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have gotten scolded… You took the blame for everything—"
Wen Yin immediately grabbed his arms and pulled him up with surprising strength. "Stand up. I didn't ask you to kneel," he said, his brows furrowed, his voice firm but gentle. "You did nothing wrong, okay? Don't shoulder something that's not yours."
Xicheng bit his lip, the sting of shame still lingering. But he nodded.
Wen Yin turned to Jingli, his posture straightening with resolve. "Jingli, go send a letter to Hueding. Tell them my father and I will arrive there tomorrow. No delays."
Jingli bowed deeply. "Yes, Young Leader," and quickly left to fulfill the order.
Wen Yin turned to Xicheng with a weary sigh. His earlier strength was faltering now, replaced with exhaustion.
"Come on… we should get some rest. We've got a long road ahead of us."
But Xicheng couldn't let it go. "Young Leader Wen… I'm really sorry. I never meant for this to happen."
Wen Yin stopped walking and turned to face him again, his eyes soft but clouded with frustration.
"The more you make me think about it, the more you make me want to stay mad at you." His lips curled into a faint, ironic smile. "My father will forget about this in a day or two. He's just…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "He's strict. But he still cares. Don't worry too much."
Xicheng grimaced suddenly, his hand flying up to clutch his chest where he had been struck earlier. His brows knit in pain.
Wen Yin's expression changed immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. "Does it still hurt?"
Xicheng straightened up quickly, forcing a shaky smile. "No… It's fine. Just a bruise. I'm used to worse."
Wen Yin didn't buy it. His eyes dropped to the spot on Xicheng's chest, then reached up and gently pressed the area with his palm. Xicheng flinched.
Wen Yin's touch lingered, surprisingly warm.
"Yeah… it hurts," he said quietly, almost to himself. Then, with a breath, "But it'll heal. Just like this whole thing. Let it pass. Don't blame yourself."
He stepped back, looking away for a moment before clenching his own chest where his father's words had struck hardest. Not physically—but deeper.
"We'll leave in the morning," he muttered. "Try to sleep. Tomorrow, everything changes."