Jihan stormed into his chambers, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him with a loud thud that echoed through the room. His frustration simmered just beneath the surface, a quiet fury he could neither voice nor unleash. The way the elders had treated Meiyin, cold and dismissive, as if she were nothing more than a troublesome pawn, gnawed at him like a festering wound.
The elders' chamber still felt suffocating in his memory—their cold gazes, the subtle undercurrents of suspicion that he couldn't confront or challenge. He had sat silently through their questions, their judgments, their warnings. Not once had he spoken up in Meiyin's defense; not once had his voice been heard. An heir without a voice in his own court.
He paced restlessly, fists clenched. The hem of his robe dragged behind him, catching slightly on the edge of a low table. He moved too quickly, bumping into the table and sending a stack of scrolls teetering dangerously before they scattered like startled birds across the polished wood floor. The once-pristine chamber was now a mess of paper and unspoken rage.
The familiar space offered little comfort. A carved screen stood against one wall, partially concealing his private quarters. On the table, a delicate tea set lay untouched. Through the lattice window, the pale sunlight filtered in, casting gold over the room, but none of it could touch the storm building inside him.
From a side room, his young attendant peeked out, her expression hesitant. She had been hovering since they returned, bustling about with small offerings: warm towels, fresh robes, quiet attempts at conversation.
"Your Grace," she said softly, "would you like some tea? The jasmine is fresh today."
Jihan didn't look at her. "No."
She bowed quickly and retreated, leaving him to his silence.
He sank into the carved chair by the window, resting his elbows on the armrest, his jaw tight. Outside, cherry blossoms drifted like snow, painting the garden in shades of white and pink. The serenity mocked him. Everything about the Lotus Sect was calm and orderly on the surface, but beneath it, everything boiled.
The meeting with the elders replayed in his mind in jagged fragments. Meiyin's soft voice, her clear silver eyes looking back at the council without flinching. Her refusal to accept their offer without knowing the cost. The subtle tension in the room. The scrutiny. How alone she had seemed.
And how alone he had been, watching her.
He wanted to rage. To tear down their stone-faced bureaucracy and demand answers. But he had sat, lips sealed, heart heavy, as the elders prodded and judged. He was the heir of the Lotus Sect in name, yet his words held no weight.
His head sank into his hands.
"Coward," he whispered to himself. "You sat there like a coward."
A soft cough broke through his self-loathing.
He looked up to find a familiar figure in the doorway.
Qiao Lian.
Qiao Lian was his oldest companion, the only one who dared walk into Jihan's chambers unannounced. Dressed in scholar's robes of pale blue, he had the bearing of someone far older than his years. His delicate frame was no less graceful for its frailty, and his dark eyes saw far more than they let on.
"Your Grace," Qiao said with a small bow. "You look burdened."
Jihan gave a tired chuckle. "Burdened is a mild word."
Qiao stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him. "I heard what happened in the elders' hall."
"Then you know why I'm like this."
"I know you were silent," Qiao said evenly.
Jihan flinched.
"I wanted to speak." He looked away. "But every time I opened my mouth, I remembered what they did the last time I defied them. They stripped me of my sword. My name."
"And yet they gave it back," Qiao replied. "Because they needed you. You are not powerless, Jihan. You are simply waiting for the right moment."
Jihan stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. "And how long do I wait? Until they decide what to do with her?"
"She's been given a trial," Qiao said, coming closer. "It's more than most would get."
"It's a death sentence, cloaked in civility."
Qiao didn't answer.
Silence stretched between them before Jihan muttered, "She saved my life. And I… I did nothing when she needed me most."
"Not nothing," Qiao said quietly. "You brought her here. You sat beside her. That is more than anyone else in that room would have done."
"But it wasn't enough."
"No," Qiao admitted. "It wasn't. But it can be."
Jihan turned back to the window. The cherry blossoms still fell. Endless, weightless.
"Tomorrow," he said, "they will summon her again."
"Yes," Qiao said. "And tomorrow, everything could change."
Jihan exhaled slowly. For the first time since waking in the sect after the mountains, he allowed himself to hope—not for status, not for approval, but for something real. For Meiyin's survival. For her freedom. For his own voice to finally be heard.
Tomorrow, he would not sit quietly.
Tomorrow, he would speak.
Jihan remained by the window, the dying light of day washing his face in pale gold. The weight of Qiao Lian's words lingered in the room, subtle but sharp like the edge of a blade. Find your voice, Qiao had said. It sounded so simple, yet for someone raised within the walls of expectation and duty, it was a task akin to moving mountains.
He turned back toward the room, his eyes drifting across the scattered scrolls and ink stones. The chaos of the space mirrored the unrest in his heart.
"I never wanted to be the heir," he murmured under his breath, unsure if Qiao still lingered in the corridor or had gone.
But someone had heard.
"You wear the title as if it weighs more than your bones," came a low voice, unexpected, gentle, and edged with amusement.
Jihan turned, startled. A tall figure leaned just inside the open doorway, robes dark as ink with a silver crest embroidered at the shoulder. Elder Lu's personal disciple.
Shen Rui. Cool-eyed and always composed, Shen Rui's sudden presence sent a small jolt of tension through Jihan's shoulders.
"I didn't hear you knock," Jihan said stiffly.
Shen Rui raised a brow. "You were lost in thought. I didn't want to disturb… but perhaps I already have."
"What do you want?"
Shen Rui stepped inside, his movements precise. "The elders have been speaking. Word spreads quickly in these halls. Your little stray girl has stirred quite the wind."
Jihan's eyes narrowed. "She has a name."
"Of course she does." Shen Rui paused, then added, "But to many in the sect, she's still just a mystery. An outsider who commands your attention far more than they like."
"Then they can keep their opinions to themselves."
"Ah," Shen Rui said, as though Jihan's defiance was amusing rather than threatening. "But they won't. You know that."
Jihan didn't respond. His fists clenched again, knuckles pale.
Shen Rui circled the room slowly, finally stopping beside a tall shelf of scrolls. "I came to offer advice. Friendly advice, if you'll take it."
Jihan stayed silent.
"Your silence today before the elders was wise. But silence tomorrow may not be enough." Shen Rui turned to face him, voice dropping lower. "The girl is being watched. Her background is unknown. Her presence here, her beauty, her proximity to you—it unsettles too many."
Jihan's voice was cold. "She's no threat."
"She might not be," Shen Rui allowed, "but those who fear disruption will create their own justifications."
Jihan stood straighter. "I won't let them."
"I don't expect you to," Shen Rui said, and for once his tone held no mockery. "But I suggest you start preparing yourself for the moment when the sect forces you to choose between her and your title."
Then, without waiting for a response, Shen Rui turned and walked out.
The door closed behind him with a soft thud.
Shen Rui was gone, but his words lingered like smoke in the chamber, curling around Jihan's thoughts and stinging his pride.
Prepare yourself for the moment when the sect forces you to choose.
Why am I going this far for her?
He didn't need the elders to ask it. He'd heard it already in the glances exchanged between inner court disciples. In the strained silence from the masters. In the veiled warning in Shen Rui's voice.
Why does the sect heir defend a girl he just met?
But they didn't know. They couldn't.
Because this wasn't the first time Meiyin had saved his life.