Lin Wuchen didn't sleep after leaving Lan's gate.
He didn't have the habit.
Habits were for people who trusted tomorrow.
He went straight back down to Gu Yan's courtyard, the empty cloth sleeve in his hand and the taste of smoke still living somewhere behind his tongue.
Wei opened the gate as if he'd been waiting for the sound of Wuchen's steps. He didn't ask where Wuchen had been. He only asked the thing that mattered.
"Who drank," Wei said.
Wuchen bowed. "Luo Ping."
Wei's eyes narrowed slightly. "Lan didn't."
Wuchen kept his gaze down. "No."
Wei's mouth tightened. He stepped aside. "Report," he said.
Gu Yan was in the pavilion with the lamp low, fingers turning a tea cup he hadn't sipped. His eyes lifted the moment Wuchen knelt.
"Tell me," Gu Yan said softly.
Wuchen reported the scene cleanly.
He described the wax seal, Auntie He's thumbprint, Lan's inspection, and the way Lan handed the vial to Luo Ping without hesitation.
He described Luo Ping's controlled swallowing, his breathing after, and the words Lan used.
Gu Yan listened without interrupting, smile faint and bright like a blade under cloth.
When Wuchen finished, Gu Yan asked one question, gentle.
"How did Luo Ping's fingers move after?" he said.
Wuchen's stomach tightened. "He flexed," he said. "Like he was testing air. His breath looked smoother."
Gu Yan's smile widened slightly. "Good," he murmured. "So Lan now tastes it through her lungs."
He set the tea cup down and leaned forward. "And Lan invited you back," he said softly, not asking.
Wuchen's throat tightened. Gu Yan always knew things that weren't said. "Yes," Wuchen admitted. "Tomorrow night. She said she has something that seals better than cheap fragments."
Gu Yan's eyes brightened.
Wei's posture tightened for the first time, barely.
Gu Yan laughed quietly. "So she wants to pour," he murmured. "Comfort."
Wuchen kept his head lowered.
Gu Yan's voice stayed mild. "You will go," he said.
Wuchen didn't flinch. "Yes."
Gu Yan tapped the table once. "And you will come back," he added, still mild. "If you don't, then you chose comfort over fear."
Wuchen's fingers curled inside his sleeves. "This one will return."
Gu Yan nodded as if satisfied. "Good," he said. "Now you understand the difference."
He reached into his sleeve and slid one more grain of spirit sand onto the table.
"Not to swallow," he said softly. "To practice holding."
Wuchen picked it up carefully, feeling it warm in his palm.
Gu Yan's eyes stayed on him. "If Lan gives you a method," he said, "you accept. You don't refuse. You don't show hunger."
Wuchen bowed. "Trade," he said quietly, repeating what he'd been taught.
Gu Yan's smile sharpened. "Exactly," he murmured. "And when you come back, you tell me whether Lan's 'seal' is meant to help you… or to tag you."
Wuchen's throat tightened. "Understood."
Gu Yan leaned back, relaxed, voice soft. "Go," he said. "Hold your two grains. Don't leak into your hands. If your fingers warm, you start over."
Wuchen bowed and backed away.
In the inner service alcove, he sat with his spine straight and practiced holding the grain in his palm until his fingers stopped tingling.
Comfort was coming.
Fear was already here.
And Lin Wuchen, with thin Origin and two marks on his sleeve, had to walk into Lan's hands tomorrow night and return without letting either side claim his throat.