The Disciplinary Deacon kept his head lowered before the long ebony table veined with gold.
"He stated that the mortal serves his 'Lord,' and that any approach was none of my concern," the Deacon reported, his voice rigid. "The air around that servant… felt far too heavy, Elder. Unless we had a reason to offend Young Master Qīng Yǔ, invading the courtyard with outer-court guards seemed… unwise."
The Third Elder did not raise his eyes. He dipped the brush into the inkwell with the slowness of a monk.
"You used your head instead of your sword. Rare," the old man commented. "Invading the privacy of a disciple of Master Yáo would indeed offend her."
The crash of the double doors cut the conversation short. A guard rushed in, face pale.
"Elder!" He dropped to one knee, panting. "We found Young Master Qīng Yì on the eastern lake shore. He is dead."
The Deacon held his breath. The Third Elder stopped the tip of the brush millimeters from the paper.
"Details," the old man ordered, his rustic voice carrying not a single trace of shock.
"Qi deviation," the guard reported, trembling. "The meridians imploded from the inside out. There are no signs of struggle. We found an ink stain on his face."
The Third Elder leaned back in his chair. Qīng Yì's death meant nothing, but a Young Master dying under his jurisdiction reeked of incompetence. He would not allow that trash to stain the administrative reputation of his wing.
"The collapse was covered up, but the truth is clear," the Elder said, his monotonous voice rewriting the facts. "Administrator Lín served the Young Master for years. Last night, she used poison to sabotage Qīng Yì's foundation, masking the assassination as Qi deviation, before fleeing to take shelter under the naïve roof of Young Fairy Qīng Yǔ."
The Deacon's eyes widened and he bowed deeply. "I will give the order to seal off the courtyard immediately, Elder."
"You will seal off nothing," the old man cut in, pulling out a narrow parchment slip. "I said I would not offend Master Yáo by sending armed dogs into her disciple's courtyard."
The Third Elder wrote two short lines and stamped his red seal.
"Deliver this into the hands of Elder Yáo. Tell her that her disciple's courtyard is accumulating filth." The old man cleaned the tip of the brush on the edge of the table.
------
The meal on the terrace of the Autumn Wind Pavilion was drawing to a quiet close. Mò Zhōng was already collecting the jade dishes, moving around the long mahogany table with the fluidity of a shadow.
Lín Jié still felt the revitalizing heat of the Lotus Rice pulsing through her newly cleaned meridians. The flush of her earlier shame had subsided, giving way to a lethargic acceptance of her new reality.
A subtle vibration, soft as a feather, touched Qīng Yǔ's Sea of Consciousness.
The Healing Fairy stopped with the cup centimeters from her lips. Her eyes widened.
"Little Yǔ. You've been gone for three whole days. You promised me you would bring new teas from the auction, not that you would hide in the pavilion with such… mysterious guests. Come outside for a bit. I promise not to interrupt your romance for too long."
The mental voice carried a warm, playful, and undeniably curious tone. Master Yáo was standing in the pavilion garden, projecting her Divine Sense only to her disciple.
Qīng Yǔ's face burned. She swallowed hard and looked toward the head of the table.
"Husband…" Yǔ's voice came out low, her flushed cheeks betraying her shyness, but the tone did not waver. "My master is outside. She is asking me to come out."
Zhì Yuǎn set down his wine cup and locked eyes with Qīng Yǔ. His dark eyes carried a tranquility that dispelled the girl's tension in an instant. He nodded.
"She is your master. Bring her inside; we have food to spare."
Qīng Yǔ released the breath she had been holding. She stood quickly, smoothed her silk dress, and walked to the edge of the terrace, descending the small steps toward the inner garden. The group remained at the table.
Seconds later, soft footsteps sounded on the stone. Qīng Yǔ returned beside a lady with silver hair held by a red spirit-wood hairpin. Master Yáo kept her hands crossed inside the wide sleeves, radiating a mild and gentle aura, her face marked by a placid smile.
The elder's eyes assessed the terrace. Under the influence of the karmic veil, the women seated at the table, as well as Zhì Yuǎn, appeared to have polished auras, yet within the expected standard of ordinary cultivators. The appearance of Lín Jié, Qīng Yǔ, and Huáng Bìyù also remained unchanged to the old woman, masking the absolute purification their bodies had undergone.
Master Yáo's gaze paused on Lín Jié for a moment.
"So the Young Administrator is truly here," the elder smiled with sympathy. She turned her eyes to Qīng Yǔ. "The Hall of Internal Affairs just sent a mandate. They said the boy from the Qīng Yì faction died of Qi deviation on the eastern lake shore this dawn. The official accusation is that she poisoned him before fleeing."
Lín Jié froze in her chair. The porcelain of her bowl cracked under the pressure of her fingers.
The man she had once considered perfect had destroyed himself in less than a day. The macabre irony of the situation did not make her cry. On the contrary, a dry, cynical laugh threatened to tear from her throat, the realization finally settling over the pathetic illusion that had been her past.
Qīng Yǔ frowned, indignant.
"That is absurd, Master! Sister Lín has been with us since yesterday. She had no access to furnaces or teas."
Master Yáo merely shrugged, the gentle smile not wavering.
"They have to find a culprit, little Yǔ, and the old men of the hall do not like admitting weakness. That is how the clan works." She gestured carelessly with her hand. "But I did not come here to be the Third Elder's running dog."
The elder's curious eyes left Lín Jié aside and fixed on the man in the gray tunic at the head of the table. She assessed the abundant table and the women surrounding him.
"Won't you introduce me to your… guest?" Master Yáo offered a wide, shrewd smile.
The flush on Qīng Yǔ's neck intensified to the tips of her ears. The disciple swallowed hard under the old woman's open scrutiny. With sweaty hands, she crossed them at waist height and bowed formally toward Zhì Yuǎn.
"Master…" Qīng Yǔ forced the words out, her voice thin and reverent. "This is… our husband. Zhì Yuǎn."
Master Yáo's placid smile froze on her wrinkled face.
The elder looked at her own disciple. Then she swept the other women seated at the table, including Huáng Bìyù, the proud jade warrior of the neighboring clan, all dining harmoniously and radiating intimacy with the calm-looking man.
Our.
Master Yáo blinked. She had always prided herself on being a woman with an open mind, indifferent to the rigid puritanism of the martial world. But this? The greatest medical genius seen in the last millennia and the future goddess of war sharing the same man, under the same roof, accompanied probably by other wives, and calling him husband without even an official engagement banquet?
The ancient mind of the old alchemist simply stopped working.
Master Yáo's hands remained relaxed inside the wide sleeves. The placid smile vanished for a moment before returning to her wrinkled face.
She looked at Qīng Yǔ. The disciple maintained her bow with a proud flush, without any sign of confusion. She was perfectly lucid.
Master Yáo cleared her throat softly. She would not lose her composure over a youthful break with tradition.
"Our husband…" the elder repeated. Her voice came out mild, drawing out the syllables with a maternal, almost enchanted tone. "My little Yǔ has always been so reclusive. For her to make such a definitive life decision without even asking this old woman's blessing… my young man, you must be a truly extraordinary figure."
Zhì Yuǎn rested his forearm on the table. He did not flinch under the elder's gaze. Instead, he sized her up just as shamelessly in return.
"Mò Zhōng," he called, his voice rustic and calm. "Bring a clean plate and another cup. Elder Yáo will join us."
The old master's maternal smile froze at the corners.
That invitation did not sound like one from an eager son-in-law trying to please his wife's family. It sounded like a king allowing a mere visitor to sit at his table.
Master Yáo nodded politely. She climbed the terrace steps and accepted the chair the butler quickly pulled at the side of the table.
"Thank you for the hospitality," she said, crossing her hands over her lap while the steaming food was served on her plate. Her curious eyes fixed on Zhì Yuǎn's face. "The Twin-Faced Empire has always kept its gates open to hidden talents. I would love to know from which sacred mountain or ancestral lineage young Zhì Yuǎn descended to honor us with his presence."
Zhì Yuǎn began turning the cup in his hand in a slow, mysterious rhythm that held the elder's attention.
"I didn't descend from anywhere, Elder," he replied, before bringing the cup to his lips. "I am but a man of the earth. I have no grand lineage to show, just beautiful women wherever I go."
Old Yáo smiled even wider.
A man of the earth. The man in front of her seemed perfectly ordinary, like a dull rock, yet he sheltered the jewels of two supreme clans under his own wings without the slightest shame.
The elder's thousand-year pride stung in her chest. The inability to decipher that man heated her blood. If sweet words were not enough to extract the truth, perhaps she needed to see how that "man of the earth" would react under a little of the real weight of the world.
Master Yáo picked up the jade chopsticks. The smile on her face gained a tiny, almost imperceptible shadow of challenge.
"Fascinating…" she whispered, tasting the pearly rice.