The morning fog clung to the mountains like the veil of an old widow—thin, gray, and heavy with secrets.
Ye Qingran moved through the wilds with practiced silence. Zhi Lan followed close behind, quieter now, her steps lighter, sharper. She had cut her hair that morning with a dagger, tying it back into a low, clean knot. Her red silk robe had been replaced with dark traveler's cloth Qingran had stitched herself.
"We're heading toward Xiang Hollow," Qingran said without looking back. "There's a village there—burned down years ago. But I heard whispers about a grave. A woman's grave that never decayed. Her flowers bloom in winter."
Zhi Lan frowned. "Flowers? In this frost?"
"Lotus," Qingran replied. "Black ones."
Zhi Lan's breath hitched. "That's… impossible."
"That's why we're going."
It took them a day and a half to reach Xiang Hollow.
What remained of the village was little more than rubble and bones—old foundations half-swallowed by vines, a burned-out well, a crooked gate. Yet the land was unnaturally quiet. Even birds refused to sing here.
At the far end of the hollow, past a line of withered trees, stood a lone grave, marked by a simple stone tablet. Someone had once carved a name into it, but the words had been violently scratched out. Yet from the soil around it bloomed a ring of black lotus flowers, their petals soft and open despite the bitter wind.
Qingran knelt.
Zhi Lan hesitated behind her. "This place feels… cursed."
"All powerful things do," Qingran murmured. She placed her palm against the earth.
The moment her skin touched the soil, a vision struck her.
She saw a woman in white, blood pooling beneath her feet. She wore no crown, but there was dignity in the way she collapsed beside the grave she had dug with her own hands. Her final breath shaped one word: "Daughter."
Then… the ground swallowed her. The flowers bloomed. And her spirit remained.
Qingran gasped, yanking her hand back.
Zhi Lan rushed to her side. "What happened?"
"She was… like us," Qingran said slowly. "A woman cast aside. But she didn't die with vengeance. She died with love still burning. And now it feeds the flowers."
The wind stirred.
One of the lotus petals broke off and floated upward—curling toward Qingran's chest. It sank gently against her skin and disappeared.
[New Ability Acquired: Lotus Memory Vein]
Awakens buried spiritual memories in touched objects and places of sorrow.
Qingran stood, heart pounding. "She's waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Zhi Lan asked.
"For us to finish what she couldn't."
They left the hollow in silence—but the petals that once bloomed behind them slowly withered. And far beneath the surface of the grave, something else stirred—an echo, a name, a forgotten secret tied to the empire's throne.
And a whisper that chilled the air:
"The Queen is returning…"That night, Qingran couldn't sleep.
She sat by the fire with the black lotus petal clutched in her palm. It no longer glowed, but it pulsed faintly against her skin, as if the soul it once carried hadn't entirely passed on. Her thoughts wandered to the vision—the woman's final word: "Daughter." Was it just a memory of grief, or a message for her?
Zhi Lan watched her from across the fire. "You looked shaken earlier," she said. "Was it just the vision?"
"No," Qingran replied, voice low. "There was something… wrong about it. Her death wasn't natural. I felt a seal buried beneath the grave. Something was locked with her body—and it's still watching us."
The wind howled outside their shelter, and the flames flickered as if in agreement. Qingran's eyes narrowed toward the darkness beyond the cave mouth.
"Tomorrow," she said, standing, "we don't return to Heng'an. We find that seal. Whatever secret they tried to bury with her—it was tied to the palace."