The sky was a dull gray, the color of distant thunderclouds just beginning to form. Jihan stood alone at the top of the Wind Pavilion, robes fluttering in the sharp morning breeze. Below him, the rest of the sect slowly stirred to life, disciples beginning their morning exercises, bell chimes echoing faintly across the mountain peaks.
He had been awake long before the sun rose.
Sleep had not come easily. Again.
Jihan drew a slow breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs before exhaling. His hands were folded behind his back, posture straight and composed, what the elders expected of a young heir. But inside, he felt far from composed.
The wind whispered past him like a voice.
He closed his eyes.
He hadn't expected to see her again, not like this. Not as a trial-bound disciple standing alone in the Grand Hall, with every eye on her. Meiyin. Her name clung to his thoughts like mist that refused to lift.
She had changed.
More than he expected. The pale girl that had protected him, bloodied and unconscious after fighting off a wild dog to protect him. He sighed. That was already ten years ago. She was now a quiet storm wrapped in silk. She didn't beg, didn't protest. Her silver eyes didn't flinch under scrutiny.
But that was what worried him the most.
That strength, it felt fragile, like something holding itself together by sheer will.
Behind him, the soft patter of footsteps approached. He didn't have to turn to know who it was.
"You're brooding again," Qiao Lian said, his voice light. "Should I start worrying?"
"I don't brood," Jihan replied without opening his eyes.
"You definitely do. That's your 'brooding at sunrise' face. Very poetic. Very tragic."
Jihan finally opened his eyes, glancing sideways at his oldest friend. "You're not funny."
"I am. You just don't laugh."
There was a beat of silence. Qiao stood beside him now, both of them watching the view. The early mist still clung to the trees below, curling around the training fields like silver smoke.
"You're thinking about her," Qiao said quietly.
Jihan didn't answer.
"Meiyin," Qiao added unnecessarily.
Jihan glanced down at the training grounds, where disciples were beginning their sword forms.
"She shouldn't be here," he said finally.
Qiao's brow rose. "You're the one who brought her here."
"She was dying."
"You could've taken her elsewhere."
Jihan's voice was quiet. "Would you have?"
Qiao was silent for a moment. "No."
More silence stretched between them.
"She's strong," Jihan said. "Too strong for someone whose village was massacred. She speaks like someone trying not to break. Her posture, her quiet... it's not just grief."
Qiao nodded. "You're saying she's putting up a strong front."
Jihan's hand tightened slightly behind his back.
"I'm saying I don't know anything about her. And she's under my protection."
That last sentence hung in the air. He hadn't meant to say it aloud.
Qiao turned to look at him fully. "You care more than you should."
"I care exactly as much as I should," Jihan said, too quickly.
Qiao didn't push. "The elders are watching. She'll be given the hardest trial they can without appearing cruel. If she passes, they'll try to mold her. If she fails..."
"She won't fail."
Qiao studied him. "You sound certain."
Jihan's voice was low. "She has the kind of fire that doesn't burn out. Just... hides beneath the ash."
Qiao didn't tease him for the poetic phrasing. Not this time.
"Will you interfere?" he asked instead.
Jihan turned back to the horizon. "I can't. Not openly."
"But secretly?"
"I said not openly."
Qiao smirked. "You know, sometimes I wonder if your heart is made of ice, or if it's just very well-guarded."
"It's neither," Jihan said.
"Then what is it?"
"Exhausted."
The word came out before he could take it back.
Qiao blinked. "Ah. So we're being honest today."
Jihan finally sat down on the edge of the balcony, arms resting loosely on his knees. "Every day I do exactly what they want. Say the right things. Wear the robes. Hold back in every meeting, every fight, every decision. Because if I don't, they'll remind me I'm still only a boy wearing a title I didn't ask for."
His voice stayed steady, but Qiao heard the tiredness beneath.
"They talk about balance and peace," Jihan went on, "but they hoard power like it's gold. They expect me to lead, but never to question."
"And Meiyin doesn't fit into that neat little world," Qiao said softly.
"No. She doesn't."
Jihan looked up.
"She's a reminder. Of everything they pretend doesn't exist."
"Then why protect her?"
"Because someone has to."
"You like her."
Jihan looked away. "I don't want her to get hurt."
"You're worried."
"I don't want her to be a pawn."
"Too late," Qiao said softly. "But she's not helpless, Jihan. Don't forget what she survived. Yunping was a massacre."
"I know."
Qiao studied him. "If you're going to protect her, do it right. Not from behind a wall of silence."
"I don't even know why I care," Jihan admitted.
"Because she's the only thing in this place that isn't trying to use you. That's rare."
Jihan stood on a high balcony that overlooked the training grounds. From here, he could see the practice fields, the quiet meditation groves, the young disciples running drills.
And Meiyin.
She stood across from Wei Ming, the senior disciple assigned to train her. She was sweating already, her robes tied back, a wooden staff in her hands. She moved stiffly, awkward, unsure, but her stance was focused.
She didn't notice Jihan watching.
He stayed there a long time.
The next evening, he found her by accident.
She was in the Moon Lotus Garden, where most disciples rarely wandered. She sat near the edge of the pond, knees drawn up, eyes distant. Moonlight turned her silver eyes pale blue.
He didn't announce himself.
"You shouldn't be here," Meiyin said quietly.
"You noticed me," Jihan replied, stepping into the open.
"I always notice you."
That made him pause.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
He looked up at the moon. "It's quiet."
She said nothing.
"You're training hard," he added.
"I don't want to be a burden."
"You're not."
She looked at him then, truly looked. "Then what am I?"
He didn't answer.
Not because he didn't want to. But because he didn't know. Not yet.
Instead, he sat beside her.
"You'll pass the trial."
"You sound sure."
"I've seen what you're capable of."
She hesitated. "Why do you care?"
He looked at her, his voice quiet. "Because I remember the way you looked at me when the world fell apart. And I remember wishing I could do something, anything, to keep you from breaking."
Meiyin blinked.
Jihan stood.
"Rest. Tomorrow's another day."
And just like that, he walked away.
But her eyes followed him, and his heart didn't calm for a long time after.