Wei Chen always said life was simple.
If a sect was too strict, he broke the rules.
If a Young Master was too proud, he broke his pride.
If a girl was too cold, he… well.
He smiled to himself as he walked through the night halls of Bright-Cloud Sect.
His hair was messy like black ink spilled on silk. His grin looked like trouble. In his hand, he carried a folded fan.
To most people, it was just a fan.
To Wei Chen, it was a blade that could cut a throat or carve a seal in the air.
Tonight, the sect was quiet. Too quiet.
A guard lantern swung in the wind. The light made long shadows on the stone floor. Wei Chen stepped around them like he was dancing.
He stopped near a small side building.
The sign above the door said:
"Moon-Water Pavilion. Do Not Enter."
Wei Chen read it, then sighed like the world was unfair.
"Do Not Enter," he whispered. "That is the saddest line I have ever seen."
He leaned close to the door and listened.
He heard water.
He heard soft voices.
He heard laughter.
Wei Chen's eyes narrowed, not like a thief… but like a man smelling a trap.
"This is too easy," he said to himself. "When something is too easy, it means someone wants you to touch it."
He looked left.
He looked right.
No one.
Still, his fingers did not open the door.
Instead, he took a small talisman from his sleeve and flicked it. The paper bird floated up and slipped through a crack in the window.
Wei Chen waited.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Then the paper bird came back fast—like it got burned.
It dropped into his palm, shaking.
On it was one word, written in messy ink:
TRAP.
Wei Chen smiled wider.
"Ah," he said softly. "So someone is trying to frame me again."
He turned to leave.
That was when the building door exploded open.
Lantern light blasted out.
A loud voice thundered:
"WEI CHEN!"
More lights lit up all at once, like stars turning on.
Dozens of sect disciples stood in a half-circle, swords drawn.
At the front stood Elder Guo, his beard shaking with anger.
And beside Elder Guo stood a young man with expensive robes and a smug face.
Young Master Han.
Wei Chen knew that face.
It was the face of someone who smiled while pushing people off cliffs.
Wei Chen lifted his fan and tapped it against his own cheek.
"Elder," he said politely. "Young Master. What a lovely group. Are we having a midnight party?"
Elder Guo pointed at the pavilion.
"Moon-Water Pavilion is for female inner disciples only!" he roared. "You were caught sneaking here!"
Wei Chen spread his hands.
"I did not sneak inside," he said. "In fact, I was walking away."
Young Master Han stepped forward with a fake gasp.
"Walking away?" Han said loudly. "So you admit you were here!"
Wei Chen looked at him.
Then he looked at the crowd.
Then he sighed like he was tired of foolish people.
"I admit I have feet," Wei Chen said. "Yes. They brought me here. But my feet did not open the door."
A few disciples snickered.
Elder Guo slammed his staff on the ground.
"Silence!"
The building behind them was now open, and Wei Chen could see inside.
Steam floated out.
A curtain moved.
A female disciple's scared voice said, "E-Elder… he… he was watching…"
Wei Chen's smile vanished.
His eyes sharpened.
That voice… was not scared in the right way.
It sounded… practiced.
Wei Chen stepped forward, slow.
"Which one of you said that?" he asked.
Another girl cried, "I saw his shadow at the window!"
Wei Chen looked up.
The window was high. The stone wall under it was smooth. No handholds. No marks.
Even a bird would struggle to cling there.
Wei Chen raised his fan and pointed at the window.
"If I was there," he said, "show me how I climbed that wall without leaving a single mark."
Young Master Han laughed.
"Elder, listen to him. He is trying to talk his way out."
Wei Chen snapped his fan open with a sharp sound.
The fan was painted with nine suns.
But the suns looked strange tonight.
Almost like they were glowing.
Wei Chen did not notice yet.
He only stared at Han.
"Han," Wei Chen said, voice calm. "You are trying very hard to make me look dirty."
Han's smile hardened.
"And you are trying very hard to make me look guilty," Han said. "But it won't work."
Elder Guo lifted a hand.
"Enough!" he shouted. "Wei Chen, your reputation is already bad! You flirt in public, you tease elders, you embarrass noble disciples!"
Wei Chen shrugged.
"That is called having a personality."
Elder Guo's face went red.
"Bring proof!" Wei Chen said suddenly. "If you want to punish me, show real proof."
Elder Guo narrowed his eyes.
Then he pulled out a crystal.
A Memory Crystal.
He held it up and poured qi into it.
The crystal glowed.
A picture formed in the air like a floating mirror.
In that image, Wei Chen saw… himself.
Or someone who looked exactly like him.
That person was pressed to the pavilion window, peeking inside.
Then the image zoomed in on his face.
It was Wei Chen's face.
Wei Chen's mouth went a little dry.
"This is fake," he said.
Elder Guo shouted, "You deny even the crystal?"
Wei Chen stared at the image.
He saw something small, something most people would miss.
The "Wei Chen" in the crystal had a ring on his left hand.
Wei Chen did not wear rings.
He lifted his own hand.
No ring.
Wei Chen looked at Elder Guo.
"Elder," he said carefully, "that man in the crystal is not me."
Young Master Han's voice cut in fast.
"Then why does he have your face?"
Wei Chen's eyes turned cold.
"Because someone wants my face to be a weapon," he said.
But the crowd did not listen.
People loved a dirty story more than a true one.
Elder Guo's voice became final.
"Wei Chen. By sect law, spying on inner disciples is a crime."
Wei Chen took a slow breath.
He wanted to laugh.
He wanted to fight.
But he saw the crowd's eyes.
They had already decided.
Elder Guo raised his staff.
"Your cultivation is revoked. Your name is removed. You are expelled from Bright-Cloud Sect!"
A wave of force hit Wei Chen's chest.
It was a seal—a harsh one.
Wei Chen's dantian (the energy center in his belly) locked like a door slammed shut.
Pain shot through his body.
He stumbled back one step.
Then another.
Young Master Han smiled like he had just won a feast.
Wei Chen steadied himself with his fan.
He lifted his head and looked at Han.
Wei Chen's voice was quiet.
"This is not over."
Han leaned close and whispered, only for Wei Chen to hear:
"It is over. Because you are about to die."
Wei Chen's eyes narrowed.
"Die?"
Han's smile did not change.
"Your body," Han whispered, "was never normal. You just didn't know it."
Then Han stepped back and raised his voice.
"Throw him out!"
Two disciples grabbed Wei Chen by the arms and dragged him across the stone floor.
Wei Chen did not struggle.
Not because he was weak.
But because something worse was happening inside him.
His chest felt hot.
Too hot.
His blood felt like boiling water.
His skin started to burn under his robe.
Wei Chen clenched his teeth.
"What… is this…?"
They dragged him to the sect gate and shoved him down the mountain path like trash.
The gate slammed shut behind him.
The night wind hit his face.
Cold air.
But it did nothing.
The heat inside him grew stronger.
Wei Chen staggered into the dark forest.
He walked ten steps.
Then his knees hit the ground.
He pressed a hand to his belly.
His dantian felt like a furnace.
And inside that furnace… something was waking up.
Wei Chen's fan slipped from his fingers.
He coughed, and the cough came out as smoke.
"Not good," he whispered.
He forced his eyes open and looked at his chest.
Under his skin, faint golden lines appeared.
Nine burning marks.
Like nine suns buried in his body.
Wei Chen's breathing turned rough.
He had heard stories.
Rare bodies.
Doomed bodies.
Bodies that could make a man a god… or burn him into ash.
Wei Chen swallowed hard.
"Nine-Suns…" he whispered.
A sharp pain stabbed his spine.
He cried out and bit his own lip to stay quiet.
His teeth tasted blood.
Then he heard footsteps.
Soft.
Light.
Not a sect disciple. Not a beast.
Someone was walking like snow.
Wei Chen forced himself to turn his head.
A figure stood among the trees.
A woman.
Tall and straight.
Silver hair flowing down her back.
White robes so clean they looked like moonlight.
Her eyes were cold blue, like a frozen lake.
Even the air around her felt colder.
But something was wrong.
Her lips were pale.
Her breath came out thin.
Frost was growing on her eyelashes.
She looked like she was dying… from cold.
Wei Chen's overheated body shivered when her presence reached him.
Not from fear.
From the clash.
Hot Yang meeting deep Yin.
The woman's gaze landed on him like a sword.
"You," she said.
Her voice was calm, but weak.
Wei Chen tried to smile.
It came out crooked.
"Me," he said.
She stepped closer.
Each step left a tiny frost mark on the ground.
Wei Chen could feel it.
Her Yin energy was pure.
Too pure.
It was killing her.
The woman's hand moved to her sword.
"Wei Chen," she said, like she knew his name already. "You are a disgrace."
Wei Chen coughed again. Smoke curled from his mouth.
"Nice to meet you too," he rasped.
She looked at his chest, at the golden heat lines.
Her eyes tightened.
"Nine-Suns Overload," she whispered.
Wei Chen blinked.
"You know it?"
Her sword did not lower.
But her voice changed slightly.
Like she was fighting panic.
"My Frozen Heart Curse is consuming me," she said. "And your heat is consuming you."
Wei Chen let out a shaky breath.
"So we are both dying."
"Yes," she said. "And we are standing in the same place."
Wei Chen laughed once, short and painful.
"The heavens have a strange sense of humor."
The woman swayed.
Just a little.
Wei Chen saw it.
She was about to collapse.
He pushed himself up on one elbow, breathing hard.
"Lady," he said. "If you want to kill me, do it fast. Because I might burn first."
Her sword hand trembled.
But not from fear.
From cold.
Her eyes locked with his.
In that moment, Wei Chen felt it clearly.
Their energies were pulling.
Like two storms trying to swallow each other.
If they stayed close, something would happen.
Something dangerous.
Something that could save them…
Or destroy them both.
Wei Chen swallowed.
He spoke slowly, so his words were clear.
"I can share my heat," he said. "But you must choose."
Her brows lowered.
"Choose what?"
Wei Chen's voice went softer.
"Choose to trust me," he said. "Even if you hate me."
The silver-haired woman's eyes flashed.
The night wind blew.
Snow started to fall—too early, too sudden.
A thin ice layer crawled across the nearby stones.
At the same time, Wei Chen's golden heat surged.
The nine sun-marks on his chest flared bright.
The woman gasped.
Her sword slipped from her hand and stabbed into the ground.
A seal-like light sparked between them, unseen but real.
Their Yin and Yang answered each other… like they had been waiting for this.
Wei Chen's voice turned hoarse.
"It's starting," he said.
The woman's face tightened, fighting the cold, fighting the pull.
She took one step closer.
And the moment she did—
The forest around them shook.
A low, ancient rumble rose from under the mountain, like something deep underground had opened one eye.
Wei Chen's nine suns burned hotter.
The woman's frost burst outward.
And the space between them lit up like a forming bond seal that did not ask politely.
Wei Chen looked up at her and whispered:
"If we don't do something right now…"
His breath hitched.
"…we both die."
And behind the trees, a shadow moved—watching.
Not a person.
Not a beast.
Something else.
Something drawn to their clash.
The silver-haired woman lifted her chin, eyes cold and sharp even while she trembled.
"Say it," she demanded. "What do you want me to do?"
Wei Chen's fan, lying in the snow, clicked once as if it heard her words.
Wei Chen swallowed, then said:
"I want you to choose me."
The bond light flared—
And the shadow in the forest stepped closer.
To be Continued
© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.