Morning bells rang across the Clear Stream Sect, clean and bright.
Zhou Wei listened from the servant quarters, sitting on the edge of his narrow cot while the sound rolled through stone and wood, washing the night away. To anyone else, it would have felt reassuring. Order restored. Another day beginning as it always had.
To him, it sounded hollow.
He tied his robe slowly, fingers steady despite the ache that still lingered in his ribs. The wounds from the fall had closed more than they should have. Not healed cleanly, not yet, but enough that the pain had dulled to a constant throb instead of a scream.
He pressed his palm lightly against his side.
Warmth answered.
Zhou Wei froze, then relaxed. The sensation receded when he willed it to, sinking back into his abdomen like an obedient beast. He let out a slow breath.
"So you listen," he murmured.
Outside, servants hurried along the paths, heads bowed, voices low. Zhou Wei stepped into the flow, tray in hand, posture slouched just enough to be forgettable. Years of practice carried him forward. No one spared him a second glance.
That, too, felt different now.
As he walked, the world began to open.
Not visually. Nothing so obvious. Instead, layers peeled back beneath the surface of routine. He felt them before he understood them.
The junior disciple passing him smelled faintly of sweat and nervousness. Beneath that lay envy, sharp and sour, directed at a senior who had advanced faster. The pair of outer disciples arguing in hushed tones carried resentment and fear, tangled together so tightly Zhou Wei almost winced.
Desire was everywhere.
Not just lust. Want. Hunger. Need. The sect pulsed with it, buried under rules and rituals and forced serenity.
Zhou Wei swallowed.
The warmth inside him stirred with interest, responding to each flicker he brushed against. He learned quickly to pull back, to narrow his awareness. When he did, the noise faded to a manageable murmur.
Control, he realized, would be everything.
He reached the inner courtyard just as Elder Zhang emerged from the main hall.
The man looked immaculate as always. Hair neatly bound. Robes pristine. Expression calm, almost benevolent, as he greeted passing disciples with nods and quiet praise.
Zhou Wei lowered his head, stepping aside.
The moment Zhang drew near, the sensation hit him like a slap.
It was stronger than before. Thicker. A mass of impulses layered so densely they made Zhou Wei's stomach churn. Desire coiled tight and predatory. Fear buried deep, well hidden but present. Above it all sat control, heavy and practiced, like a hand pressing down on everything else.
Hypocrisy burned like oil poured on a flame.
Zhou Wei's fingers tightened on the tray.
Zhang paused.
For half a second, Zhou Wei thought the elder had sensed him. His heart kicked hard in his chest. He focused inward immediately, forcing the warmth to withdraw, flattening his presence until he felt as small and empty as he used to.
Zhang's gaze slid over him.
"Be careful," the elder said mildly, nodding at the tray. "Incense is not cheap."
"Yes, Elder," Zhou Wei replied, voice low and steady.
Zhang moved on.
Zhou Wei stood there for a moment longer than necessary, breathing through the lingering nausea. When the sensation finally faded, something cold settled into his chest.
So this was Elder Zhang's true shape.
Not a righteous cultivator. Not a pillar of the sect. Just a man who wanted and took, hiding behind doctrine because it made his appetite safer.
Zhou Wei resumed walking.
He did not need to search for Mei Lin.
He felt her before he saw her, a soft knot of anxiety and exhaustion tucked near the eastern kitchens. Her emotions brushed against his awareness faintly, like a candle struggling against a draft.
When he reached the courtyard, she was there, kneeling beside a basin of water, sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed vegetables with reddened hands. Her movements were precise, almost mechanical.
She looked smaller than he remembered.
Zhou Wei set the tray down nearby and crouched, pretending to adjust the incense burner. He kept his gaze lowered, his presence unthreatening.
"You didn't sleep," he said quietly.
Mei Lin startled, nearly dropping a radish into the basin. She looked around quickly, then relaxed when she saw it was only him.
"I did," she lied.
The flicker of fear sharpened.
Zhou Wei did not press. He rinsed his hands in the basin, the cold biting into his skin, grounding him.
"They're keeping you busy," he said instead.
She nodded, eyes on the water. "Elder Zhang asked for extra offerings this morning."
The warmth inside Zhou Wei twitched.
"Did he say why?"
Mei Lin shook her head. Her grip tightened on the vegetable until her knuckles whitened. Desire and fear tangled inside her, confusing even to her own senses.
Zhou Wei straightened slowly.
"Be careful today," he said. "If anything feels wrong, leave. Find the storeroom near the south wall. Stay there."
She looked up at him then, really looked, confusion creasing her brow.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.
Zhou Wei hesitated.
He could not tell her the truth. Not yet. But he would not lie outright either.
"Because some people here wear clean robes," he said, choosing his words carefully, "and hide very dirty hands."
Mei Lin's breath caught.
For a moment, the noise of the courtyard faded. Zhou Wei felt her emotions spike, fear surging alongside something else. Recognition.
"You know," she whispered.
Zhou Wei met her eyes briefly, then looked away.
"I know enough."
She swallowed hard. "Then why haven't you told anyone?"
Zhou Wei's jaw tightened.
"Who would believe a servant," he said flatly, "over an elder?"
Silence stretched between them.
Mei Lin nodded slowly, as if something inside her had finally been named. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier.
"If he calls for me again," she said, "will you help me?"
Zhou Wei felt the warmth stir, responding not to lust but to the weight of the question. This mattered. This was a choice forming, fragile and dangerous.
"I won't drag you anywhere," he said. "And I won't decide for you."
She studied his face, searching for something. Whatever she found there made her exhale shakily.
"Then… stay nearby," she said. "Please."
Zhou Wei inclined his head. Not a promise. Not a refusal.
As he walked away, the sect resumed its rhythm around him. Bells. Voices. Footsteps. All of it unchanged.
But beneath the surface, desire coiled tighter.
And Zhou Wei understood now.
The corruption path did not begin in bed, or in the dark.
It began here.
In fear. In doubt. In the moment someone realized the world they trusted was already rotten.
High above the courtyard, Elder Zhang watched the servants below with idle interest.
Zhou Wei felt his gaze like a weight on his back.
And for the first time, he did not look away.