By noon, the sect had decided.
Not officially. Never officially.
But the way paths bent toward the same places, the way conversations stalled when Lu Yan passed—attention had weight now. It pressed from all sides, expectant, hungry.
He felt it before he saw her again.
Princess Zhao Qingyue stood beneath the flowering tree, petals caught in her hair like careless adornment. She laughed with two inner disciples—laughed easily, brightly—then dismissed them with a flick of her wrist when she noticed him.
She didn't approach.
She waited.
Lu Yan slowed. Not to perform. To acknowledge the choice she'd already made.
Her eyes tracked him as he stopped a few steps away. "You didn't avoid me."
"I don't avoid," he said.
"Good." She clasped her hands behind her back, rocking slightly on her heels. "I don't enjoy chasing men who pretend not to notice."
"You're noticed," he replied.
Her smile widened. "I knew you'd say that."
Behind them, frost breathed.
Lin Yue stood at the edge of the training circle, posture immaculate, expression unreadable. The frost at her feet was thin today—held too tight, like a blade kept sheathed by will alone.
She hadn't come closer.
Not yet.
Zhao Qingyue followed Lu Yan's gaze, then looked back at him with open curiosity. "She's restraining herself."
"Yes."
"Why?" Zhao Qingyue asked, genuinely interested.
"Because restraint is how she listens," Lu Yan said.
Zhao Qingyue hummed. "And how do you listen?"
He considered. "By not interrupting."
She laughed softly. "You're infuriating."
"So I've been told."
They stood there, the space between them charged by proximity alone. Zhao Qingyue didn't touch him. Didn't need to. Her warmth pressed forward, an invitation that asked nothing and promised nothing—yet.
Lin Yue moved.
One step.
Then another.
Each footfall precise. Measured.
She stopped where the petals thinned and the stone cooled, eyes lifting to Zhao Qingyue first. Acknowledgment. Assessment.
Then to Lu Yan.
"You're close," Lin Yue said.
"So are you," Zhao Qingyue replied, cheerful and unthreatened.
"I wasn't speaking to you," Lin Yue said calmly.
Zhao Qingyue tilted her head. "You are now."
The air tightened.
Lu Yan remained still, arms relaxed at his sides. The pressure in his core shifted, accommodating the convergence.
Foundation Establishment — Late Stage (Compression, Stable)
The Manual purred, almost audible.
Convergence yields elevated emotional output.
Zhao Qingyue glanced at him. "You don't stop these moments."
"I don't steal them," he said.
Lin Yue's frost stirred—barely. "She's bold."
"She's honest," Lu Yan replied.
Zhao Qingyue's eyes lit. "I like you."
Lin Yue's gaze sharpened. "You barely know him."
"I know enough," Zhao Qingyue said lightly. "He doesn't pretend to be empty."
Silence pressed down.
A few disciples slowed nearby, pretending interest in the scenery.
Lin Yue took another step forward. "You're standing where I usually stand."
Zhao Qingyue looked down, then back up. "Then move me."
Lin Yue didn't.
The restraint screamed louder than any outburst.
Lu Yan spoke softly. "Lin Yue."
She didn't look away from Zhao Qingyue. "You didn't tell me she would come again."
"I didn't warn you," he said. "I told you I wouldn't."
Her breath tightened. "You let her choose."
"Yes."
Zhao Qingyue smiled. "And I did."
She took a half-step closer to Lu Yan—still not touching, but enough to shift the balance. Enough to be felt.
Lin Yue's frost flared, then snapped back under control. Her jaw set.
"You enjoy this," Lin Yue said to Lu Yan.
"I accept it," he replied.
"That's worse."
Zhao Qingyue laughed, delighted. "You're both terrible."
Lin Yue finally looked at her directly. "What do you want?"
Zhao Qingyue didn't hesitate. "To see what happens when I don't step aside."
Lin Yue's eyes flicked back to Lu Yan. "And you?"
"I'm watching," he said.
Her breath hitched—just once.
"You're not choosing," she said.
"No."
"Then I will," Lin Yue said.
She turned away.
Not retreating.
Repositioning.
She walked to the center of the circle and stood, frost spreading in a controlled ring. Not performing. Claiming space.
Zhao Qingyue watched, impressed. "She's fierce."
"Yes."
"And jealous."
"Yes."
Zhao Qingyue leaned in, voice low. "So am I."
The words brushed his ear like a promise that refused to be polite.
Lu Yan didn't move.
He felt it anyway.
Behind him, frost cracked—audible this time.
Lin Yue's gaze locked onto Zhao Qingyue's closeness, the angle of her body, the ease of her smile. Something shifted—quiet, dangerous.
The Manual chimed, delighted and cruel.
[Primary Bond Stress: Escalation]
Secondary Interest: Persistent
Compression Threshold: Imminent
An elder cleared his throat loudly. "Disciples."
The interruption snapped the moment cleanly in half.
Zhao Qingyue stepped back with a soft laugh. "Duty calls."
She inclined her head to Lu Yan. "Later."
She didn't look at Lin Yue as she left.
Lin Yue watched her go, frost receding slowly, as if pulled back by effort rather than will.
Lu Yan waited.
When Lin Yue turned, her expression was composed—but her eyes were bright with something unresolved.
"She won't stop," Lin Yue said.
"No."
"You won't stop her."
"No."
Her lips pressed together. "Then neither will I."
She stepped closer—close enough now that the cold of her frost and the heat of his body met and held, neither winning.
"I won't ask you to choose," she said quietly. "But I won't pretend this doesn't hurt."
"I wouldn't let you," he replied.
Her gaze searched his face, frustrated by the calm she couldn't break.
"Say something," she whispered.
"If I do," he said softly, "you'll stop listening."
She closed her eyes for a heartbeat.
When she opened them, resolve had replaced restraint.
"I'll stand where I stand," she said. "And I won't move."
Lu Yan inclined his head. "Good."
She turned and left—slowly this time, frost whispering across stone like a warning that refused to fade.
The sect exhaled as one.
Lu Yan remained beneath the tree, petals drifting down around him.
The pressure in his core settled—deeper, denser, ready.
Tomorrow, the distance between them would shrink again.
And someone would finally cross it.