The door shut behind her with a soft thud that echoed too loudly in the silence. Meiyin stood alone in the center of the small chamber, her eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the paper screen windows. The room was clean but cold, bare except for a narrow sleeping mat, a plain wooden chest, and a wash basin. No lanterns, no silks, no incense curling in the air. Just gray stone walls and the sharp scent of starch from freshly laundered sheets.
This was her new home. At least, for now.
Lin Yue was gone.
Meiyin had woken that morning to find the older girl already vanished, her soft-spoken warmth replaced by a short note in careful handwriting: Your new schedule begins today. I've been reassigned. Be well.
That was all.
No goodbye. No explanation. No smile.
It shouldn't have surprised her. She had known it would happen. She wasn't special anymore. Not a rescued girl in need of protection. She was a disciple now well, almost one. A trial-bound outsider.
Still, it hurt.
She dropped her gaze to her robes still the rich silk ones she'd worn since arriving at the Lotus Sect. The elders had deemed it wasteful to replace them, especially since she owned nothing else. But wearing them now, in this sparse cell, made her feel like a painted vase set on a butcher's table.
Too bright.
Too out of place.
The first bell rang in the distance, crisp and high. Morning drills.
Meiyin pulled her hair into a high knot and slipped on her outer robe. Then, without another glance at the room, she stepped out into the courtyard.
---
Training began before the sun had fully risen. The mist clung to the mountain stone, coiling around her ankles as she followed the others to the lower practice grounds.
Wei Ming stood waiting, arms folded across his chest. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp face that rarely smiled. His dark hair was bound tightly, and his robes were plain but spotless. He watched her approach without expression.
"You're late," he said.
"I came when the bell rang," she replied calmly.
His gaze flicked to her sleeves. "You're overdressed. This isn't a court banquet."
"It's all I have."
Wei Ming didn't comment further. He turned on his heel and gestured for her to follow. "We begin with endurance."
---
Endurance, it seemed, meant running laps around the courtyard until her legs turned to water. She ran beside girls half her size, boys who sneered when she stumbled. Wei Ming never raised his voice, but his eyes missed nothing.
"Again," he said whenever she slowed.
"Back straight."
"Don't drag your feet."
She didn't answer. She ran until her breath came in sharp gasps, her heart pounding against her ribs like a drum of war. She ran until her head spun, until her vision blurred.
Then, at last: "Stop."
She collapsed to her knees in the grass, sweat soaking her collar. Her fine silk sleeves were streaked with dirt. Her palms shook.
Wei Ming said nothing. He handed her a wooden staff.
"Stand. We begin forms."
---
It was like that every day.
The training was brutal made harder by her unfamiliarity with basic combat and the way the others whispered behind her back. Some envied her beauty, others mocked it. None offered kindness.
She missed Lin Yue. She missed her father. She missed the scent of crushed herbs in Master Qiao's cottage, the warm haze of Yunping summers.
She missed not being watched like prey.
On the fourth day, she fainted.
She didn't even remember hitting the ground. One moment she was spinning through a basic defensive form; the next, she was waking up with a sharp pain in her shoulder and dirt on her face.
Wei Ming stood over her, arms crossed.
"Rest," he said shortly. "Tomorrow will be worse."
And it was.
---
By the sixth day, something inside her had shifted.
It was subtle. A quiet steel curling up from her spine. Her muscles still ached. Her sleep was restless. But she began to move faster. React quicker. Even Wei Ming's sharp gaze lingered a second longer than usual.
He didn't praise her. But he didn't correct her as much either.
The staff felt more natural in her hands now. She was learning to keep her balance, to strike with precision.
She trained until dusk. Ate alone in the disciples' hall. Returned to her room, where silence greeted her like an old friend.
She spoke to no one.
And no one spoke to her.
---
That night, as she soaked her aching feet in cold water, Meiyin stared at her reflection in the surface.
The girl in the basin had pale skin, silver eyes, and loose curls stuck to her cheeks. Her lower lip was split. Her knuckles bruised.
But her eyes were not dull.
She would not cry. Not tonight.
---
The seventh morning arrived with a biting chill. She dressed in her usual silks and walked out into the fog, each step measured. Wei Ming met her at the gate.
"No more laps," he said.
She blinked.
"Forms. Show me everything."
She obeyed.
He watched, silent as always. When she finished, sweat beading at her brow, he finally spoke:
"Better."
It wasn't praise. Not quite. But Meiyin straightened.
Wei Ming looked past her toward the far slope. "Your trial is in days. Keep working."
She bowed.
He left.
---
That evening, after dinner, she found herself walking without thinking.
Through the stone corridors, past the lantern-lit meditation grove, into the shaded garden where no disciples trained.
The Moon Lotus Garden.
The flowers were in bloom, pale blossoms trembling gently in the breeze. She knelt beside the pond, her sleeves brushing the petals.
Alone. As always.
Except—
A soft shift in the wind.
A presence she recognized.
"You shouldn't be here," she said quietly.
And from the shadows, he stepped into view.
"You noticed me," Jihan replied.
"I always notice you."
He stood beneath a moonlit , his dark robes nearly blending into the trees. Only his eyes shimmered in the light.
"You've grown stronger," he said after a pause.
"I've had no choice."
Meiyin looked down at her hands. They were calloused now. Rough. She hated them—and yet, she was proud too.
He came closer, kneeling beside her. "Wei Ming is not gentle."
"He doesn't need to be."
Silence stretched between them. The sound of frogs from the distant pond, the rustling of leaves.
"I watched you yesterday," Jihan murmured. "You were... graceful."
Meiyin's lips parted slightly. She had never heard him say something so plain. So human.
"You're not supposed to watch me."
He smiled faintly. "And yet."
Her breath caught.
"Why are you really here?" she asked.
He hesitated. Then, "Because one month is not long enough. Because they're pushing you too fast. Because I wanted to see for myself that you're still standing."
"And if I wasn't?"
"I would've carried you away."
She turned to him fully, heart beating far too fast. "You can't do that. You're the heir. You belong to them."
"I don't belong to anyone," Jihan said, voice low.
They stared at each other. Meiyin wanted to look away but couldn't.
He lifted a hand, reaching for her then stopped.
"I shouldn't touch you."
"No," she whispered, throat tight. "You shouldn't."
Still, her fingers curled slightly, aching to close the space between them.
Finally, Jihan stood. "Rest tonight. They won't break you, Meiyin. You're stronger than they know."
And just like that, he was gone.
She remained kneeling by the pond long after the breeze died.
The flowers swayed gently beside her, untouched.
But inside her, something stirred.
Not longing. Not yet.
But the beginning of something fierce. Something warm.
She would survive.