Back in the cramped alley, Lolly laid out her terms. The scent of dye and dust was a permanent resident here, and her voice was low, sharp with practical resentment.
"There's a pest," she said. "Young Master Kang Mao. Second son of the Kang family. You know, one of the four pillars holding up the world?" She said it with a sneer, scrunching her nose. "His older brother, Kang Hao, is the heir, the serious one. This one? He's got nothing to prove to his family, so he comes down here after dark to prove something to himself. Knocks over a merchant's baskets 'by accident.' Says things to the girls who can't afford to talk back. Makes the whole street feel like his personal dung heap for an hour, then swaggers off. I want him to taste his own medicine. I want him to trip over his own big mouth in front of an audience."
Gen, leaning against the cool wall, considered it. Tangling with a son of a Pillar Family wasn't smart. But smart had left the building when the world fell. This was about momentum, about doing *something* to claw forward. "And how are two broke cultivators and a street kid supposed to make a young master trip? A rock to the head just gets us disappeared."
Lolly's smile was a blade. She pointed a grimy finger at Liang, who was still catching his breath. "He's not getting a rock. He's the honey. Or, more like, the pretty, helpless flower. Kang Mao likes an easy target, right? Someone who looks like they won't fight back. Liang here, with the right… presentation… makes the perfect target."
Liang's face, already flushed from running, went pale as milk. "No. Whatever you're picturing in that devious little head of yours, the answer is a thousand times no."
***
Night in the weaver's quarter was a different beast. The constant *thump-thump-thump* of the looms had ceased, leaving a hollow quiet filled with distant, muffled sounds from the main avenues. The heat of the day and the dye vats had bled away, leaving a cool, still air that smelled of cold ashes and damp stone. Cultivators with places to be had retreated to inns or training grounds; families had shut their doors. The streets here belonged to the night watch, the desperate, and now, to a very peculiar conspiracy.
Gen and Lolly were crouched side-by-side on the flat, tiled roof of a granary that overlooked a small, secluded courtyard. Below, a modest tiered fountain bubbled softly. A single, ancient willow tree draped over it, its branches strung with a few paper lanterns that cast a weak, golden puddle of light on the cobbles. It was a pocket of quiet in the sleeping district.
"See this spot?" Lolly whispered, her breath a faint cloud. "Stupid, isn't it? People think it's special. 'Romantic.' They come here hoping for a 'chance' meeting. Like finding your match is as simple as picking the right patch of dark to stand in." Her tone was dripping with the cynical wisdom of a child who'd seen too many transactions disguised as courtship.
Gen peered down. The concept felt alien, almost silly. His own future had been decided for him years ago in a discussion between titans. A fleeting image of Lorel surfaced—her quiet posture, her eyes that never quite met his. *She's probably halfway across the continent by now,* he thought. *Training with her father, or being paraded at some other court. Doing whatever it is she does.* The thought brought no particular feeling—no longing, no guilt. It was a fact, as distant and unchangeable as the phase of the moon. She was part of the life that had shattered. Right now, his world was this roof, this plan, and the hollow, silent void where his power used to be. He shook his head slightly, clearing the irrelevant thought.
Down below, seated with rigid, miserable precision on the fountain's edge, was the bait.
Liang was draped in a set of borrowed robes that were a shade of pale lilac a size too small. The silk was fine, or had been, now slightly frayed at the hem—likely another item from Lolly's mysterious network of 'acquired' goods. A fall of dark, silky false hair was arranged over his shoulders. In the forgiving, lantern-lit gloom from twenty feet up, the effect was… unsettlingly convincing. He had the fine bones, the delicate jawline. But up close, the illusion was murdered by the storm brewing on his face. His jaw was clenched so tight Gen could almost hear his teeth grinding from the rooftop. His eyes, narrowed to slits, scanned the darkness with pure, homicidal intent.
*I am going to end them,* Liang thought, his body thrumming with humiliation. *Gen first, for agreeing to this. Then the little demon-girl, for dreaming it up. I will use my Creation Wheel to make a special, slow-acting itch-powder and put it in all their clothes. No, a pot that amplifies shame a hundredfold. I'll—*
His furious internal revenge fantasies were interrupted by footsteps.
A girl walked into the courtyard. She was about their age, maybe fifteen. She wore simple but well-made cultivation robes, and she moved with a careful, quiet grace that spoke of disciplined training. Her aura wasn't explosive, but it was there—a subtle, woven strength, like reinforced silk. She was stunning, with a calm, focused beauty that made Liang's breath catch in his throat despite his rage. She looked around, her expression one of mild frustration, as if searching for someone.
Her gaze swept over him, sitting there in his lilac humiliation. She hesitated, then seemed to decide the fountain was as good a place to wait as any. She kicked a small pebble aside with the toe of her boot and sat down on the rim, not even an arm's length away.
Liang froze. He could smell a faint, clean scent of sandalwood and mountain herbs. Their hands, resting on the cool stone, brushed lightly. A jolt, hot and entirely unexpected, shot up Liang's arm. His face flushed beneath the minimal, hastily applied rouge. He stared rigidly ahead, praying to any Wheel that would listen that she wouldn't speak.
"Excuse me," the girl said, her voice soft and melodic. "You haven't, by any chance, seen a boy around here? About our age. Loud. Probably looking for trouble. His name is Gen."
Liang's mind short-circuited. *Gen? She's looking for GEN? Of course she is! The heavens themselves could drop the most perfect, serene, beautiful girl right next to me, and she's looking for him! He has all the luck and none of the sense!* He managed a tiny, stiff shake of his head, keeping his eyes downcast. He didn't trust his voice.
The girl sighed, a sound of genuine worry. "It's my brother. Lio Kai. He's heard the talk. About the Immortal's son traveling through the kingdoms. He's become insufferable. Talks about nothing but finding 'the sun's heir' and proving his own strength against a living legend. He doesn't understand…" She trailed off, her gaze turning inward. "Someone who carries that name… the weight of it must be immense. My brother thinks a duel is a path to glory. It's just… childishness."
Liang listened, his own resentment momentarily forgotten. He heard the deep concern in her voice, the protectiveness warring with frustration. It was a feeling he knew intimately—the weight of a name, the burden of expectation. Without thinking, he spoke, his voice a strained, higher-pitched whisper he hoped passed for feminine. "He must have his reasons. Sometimes… having a star to chase, even if you never catch it, is the only thing that lights the way forward."
The girl, Lia Kai, turned to look at him more directly. Her eyes, in the lantern light, were a deep, intelligent brown. "Your voice…" she said, a slight frown touching her brow. "It sounds a bit strained. Are you alright?"
Liang's heart hammered against his ribs. "Fine!" he squeaked. "Just… the night air."
Lia Kai studied his profile for a moment longer. Then, to his horror, her lips twitched. The twitch turned into a smile, and the smile burst into a soft, genuine laugh that sounded like clear water over stones. "Lia Kai," she said, offering her name as if sharing a joke.
Liang, trapped, could only give another jerky nod. *Lia Kai. Even her name is pretty. And she's laughing at me. This is the worst night of my life.*
She didn't call him out. She didn't demand to know why a 'young maiden' was sitting alone at a fountain after dark with the posture of a soldier awaiting execution. She simply shook her head, her laughter subsiding into a warm, amused hum. "Funny, the people you meet," she said, more to herself than to him. She stood up, gave him one last, knowing look that made his ears burn, and walked out of the courtyard, vanishing as quietly as she'd come.
Liang sat frozen for a full ten seconds. Then he slowly turned his head, directing the full, scorching force of his fury towards the rooftop where he knew Gen and Lolly were hiding. He made a sharp, slashing motion across his own throat.
On the roof, Gen had collapsed onto his side, his entire body shaking with silent, tear-streaming laughter. He clutched his stomach, mouthing soundless screams of mirth. Lolly was beside him, her small fists pressed to her mouth, shoulders trembling equally hard.
Liang stood up, the lilac robes swirling. "I'm done," he hissed, voice low but carrying in the quiet night. "This ends now. I am leaving, and I am setting all of your belongings on fire."
Gen, still wheezing, scrambled to his knees, holding out pleading hands. "No, no, wait! Liang, come on! She was nice! And she was looking for *me*! That's hilarious! You were brilliant! Just a little longer!"
"I have been humiliated for the last time tonight, Gen Jiang! I swear on my—"
A new sound cut through the night, stopping Liang's tirade cold.
It was a low, tuneless humming. The sound of someone without a care in the world, someone who owned the ground they walked on. It came from the mouth of the alley, accompanied by the casual, swaggering footsteps of someone.
The humming grew louder, jovial and entirely self-satisfied.
The target had arrived.