The gates of the Ji Clan estate rose before them like a mountain sculpted by gods—impossibly tall, carved from pale gray stone veined with silver. Etched into the surface were talismans older than empires, glowing faintly with residual immortal qi.
Shen Liuyin had never seen anything so terrifyingly beautiful.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her sister's.
Beside her, Shen Yueyin looked up with wide, uncertain eyes. She clutched a thin bundle of belongings wrapped in a frayed cloth and whispered, "It looks like a palace in a dream…"
"It is," Liuyin replied softly. "But it's real."
And they were going inside.
A senior steward in deep blue robes led them through the outer gate. His face bore no warmth, only duty. He gave no greeting. He simply turned and began walking.
Neither of the girls dared speak as they followed him deeper into the estate.
The pathways were made of cloud-forged jade, glowing faintly beneath their feet. Spirit willows lined the courtyards, their leaves shifting unnaturally even when there was no wind. A pair of snow-colored qilin prowled the outer garden, their silver eyes flashing with ancient awareness.
Yueyin slowed as they passed one. "Is it safe?"
Liuyin gently nudged her forward. "Only if we don't give them a reason."
The air itself here was different. Heavier. More aware. Every breath felt like inhaling rules—unchangeable, inescapable.
But Shen Liuyin didn't find it suffocating.
She found it awe-inspiring.
Even the silence of the estate felt like something sacred. The Ji Clan did not need noise to prove power. Their walls hummed with it.
---
Eventually, the steward stopped in front of a modest structure near the edge of the servant quarters. A simple wooden house with a stone roof, surrounded by trimmed moss and smooth lanterns.
"This is yours. Meals are at second bell. Work assignments are posted daily. Keep your head down. Survive."
And then he was gone.
The door creaked softly as Liuyin opened it. Dust motes swirled in the amber sunlight pouring through the lattice windows. The room was small—two straw mats, a chipped table, and a water basin. A single shelf held folded gray servant robes.
Yueyin made a small sound. "It's… really plain."
Liuyin walked inside and smiled.
"It's clean. It's safe. It's ours."
She ran her hand over the table and found no splinters. The floor creaked but held firm. There was no mold, no rot, no leaking roof.
To her, this was not a cell.
This was a beginning.
---
That night, after their chores were explained and their meals eaten in silence beside dozens of strangers, the two sisters lay on their mats side by side.
Outside, a wind chime rang—except Liuyin realized there was no chime. It was the song of a spirit bird nesting in one of the upper towers.
She turned on her side and whispered, "Yueyin?"
"Mm?"
"We're going to be okay."
Yueyin shifted beneath her blanket. "Even with all the rules?"
Liuyin's gaze lifted to the wooden ceiling beams above them.
"We'll learn the rules. And once we do… we'll never have to live in fear again."
She meant it. Every word.
She believed that hard work would be rewarded.
That obedience and kindness would be seen.
That even in a place ruled by immortal bloodlines and divine power, someone like her could rise.
She didn't yet understand the kind of man Ji Yuanheng was.
She hadn't seen his eyes.
Hadn't heard his voice.
Not yet.
So she smiled. Hopeful. Tired. But certain.
Shen Liuyin, thirteen years old, fell asleep in a stranger's home, in a room made of plain wood and silence—and dreamed of a future where she would finally matter.
-----
It happened on the fourth day.
Shen Liuyin was sweeping the courtyard outside the east meditation hall, the hem of her gray servant robes dusted with gold-flaked leaves. The morning air was cool, edged with faint spiritual pressure that made her bones feel lighter and her chest strangely calm.
Around her, older servants worked in silence. None spoke unless necessary. Some glanced at her curiously—two girls alone in a place like this? But no one questioned it aloud.
She had just dumped a basket of dried leaves when the silence shifted.
It was subtle. The birdsong stopped. The wind stilled.
Then came the whisper.
Not from mouths, but from the ground itself, from the walls, from the qi in the air.
He's here.
A ripple passed through the courtyard like a breathless wave. Every servant immediately turned, bowed, and lowered their eyes to the stone floor.
Liuyin followed suit—but curiosity got the better of her.
She tilted her chin just slightly.
---
He stepped into the courtyard, surrounded by silence.
Ji Yuanheng.
He was younger than she expected—perhaps sixteen or seventeen—but he moved like someone older than time. His dark robes were edged in pale silver. His long black hair was bound high with a jade clasp. He wore no weapons, no armor, no ornaments—but every step he took felt like the world shifted to make way for him.
He didn't speak.
He didn't look at anyone.
He simply walked forward, the tails of his robes gliding across the jade tiles like ink over silk.
And still—everyone bowed deeper.
Liuyin's breath caught.
There were no words for it. He didn't glow. He didn't smile. He wasn't warm, or kind, or radiant.
But he was—absolute.
---
As he neared the lotus platform at the center of the courtyard, a sect elder joined him. Their voices were quiet, but the moment Ji Yuanheng raised a hand—even the elder stopped mid-sentence.
"I've seen enough," he said, voice smooth as flowing water, but colder than night.
The elder bowed. Ji Yuanheng turned, his gaze sweeping the space—and for a split second, his eyes passed over her.
Shen Liuyin's heart stopped.
Those eyes—calm, unreadable, untouched by joy or sorrow. They didn't pause on her, didn't narrow, didn't flicker. They simply moved past.
But to her… it felt like being chosen.
Not for favor. Not for kindness.
But to exist in his world at all.
---
When he disappeared into the corridor with the sect elder, the tension finally broke. Servants straightened. A few exhaled shakily.
One of the older maids muttered beside her, "Don't ever look at him again, girl. You won't like what looks back."
Liuyin didn't answer.
She couldn't speak.
---
That night, she sat beside her sister in their room, brushing Yueyin's hair by lantern light.
"He walked right past me," she whispered.
Yueyin yawned. "Who?"
"Ji Yuanheng."
Her sister scrunched her nose. "The one they call the Crownless Heir? The scary one?"
"He's not scary," Liuyin said, a soft smile on her lips. "He's… quiet. Like a mountain before sunrise."
"Mountains fall on people, you know."
She laughed at that. Quietly.
She didn't know why her heart beat so fast.
It wasn't love. Not yet.
But it was the beginning.
The beginning of a belief.
That even someone like her—low-born, ordinary, forgotten—might someday stand near a god.