The Ye residence was quiet, save for the soft rustle of curtains and the faint hum of the morning wind. Mei'yin lay in her bed, her breaths shallow and uneven. The poison from the arrow coursed through her veins, yet she slept on, silent and unaware.
Ye Dushen paced the room, his expression tight with worry.
"Sister" he said, voice low but urgent, glancing at her rounded stomach, "can you help? … anything that can save her. This poison is strong."
Ms. Ye's hands rested lightly on her belly, a soft glow of life there reminding her of careful patience.
"I will," she replied quietly. "I can prepare the antidotes and herbal infusions, but it will take time."
Dushen's jaw clenched. "I'm going around the forest. There has to be something stronger, something… more immediate."
The forest outside was alive with muted whispers, and as he moved between the ancient trees, Dushen almost collided with two familiar figures.
"How did you get in?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.
"Xihe allowed us," Mo Yuming answered, her tone cautious. "The barrier… it let us pass as well."
Yuxi's gaze immediately fell on his wrist, where the red bracelet, identical to Mei'yin's, shimmered faintly. His voice was quiet but laced with concern.
"How's Mei'yin?"
Dushen's eyes flared, anger and fear colliding in a dangerous storm.
"Why didn't you save her? Why did you let her get hurt?!" His voice broke, almost shaking with suppressed fury.
Yuming and Yuxi exchanged shocked glances, neither aware the poison had even been involved.
"Can I see her?" Yuxi finally asked, his voice strained.
Dushen's fists clenched at his sides. He shook his head quickly.
"No," he said, the refusal sharp—Not because of… anything else, but he can't risk Ms. Ye or the child being exposed.
Yuxi's eyes darkened, and he begged softly, a rare vulnerability in his tone.
"Please…just let me."
Dushen's heart pounded, and he shook his head again, forcing the lie from his lips.
"She said she doesn't want to meet any of you."
"Where are you going?" Yuming asked, worry threading her words.
"Looking for herbal medicine to save her," Dushen replied, moving with tense urgency.
A sudden flicker of light caught Dushen's attention — Yuxi's hand flashed, and a warm, crimson glow spread from his palm. Blood, vibrant and strong, hovered in the air before being guided into a vial. The Qin blood, capable of healing far beyond its musical resonance, pulsed with life.
Yuxi handed the vial to Dushen.
"Use this," he said simply. Then, without waiting for reply, he turned and dragged Yuming with him, his expression calm but worried, leaving Dushen staring after them.
Dushen's grip tightened around the vial. Mei'yin's shallow breaths echoed in his mind. He would save her — no matter what it took.
Dushen's footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floors as he strode toward the door, the vial of Yuxi's blood still heavy in his hand. He paused at the threshold, glancing back once at Ms. Ye.
"Use it if… if it becomes too much, Don't ask where did I get that from." he said, his voice low but firm. Then he left, leaving the room in a tense silence.
Ms. Ye set the vial down gently on the table, her hands hovering over it. Her gaze softened as she looked at Mei'yin, still lying on the bed, her chest rising and falling slowly. But even in her sleep, Ms. Ye noticed it — the faint flicker of energy around her, the subtle tension in her body, the way her fingers twitched as though performing a silent battle within.
A quiet realization settled in Ms. Ye's heart.
She's… fighting the poison herself.
The herbs and remedies she had prepared suddenly felt unnecessary, almost redundant. The strength Mei'yin possessed — even in her weakened state — was extraordinary. She was surviving, slowly, deliberately, on her own.
Minutes passed. The air in the room seemed to shift, lighter now, yet still heavy with lingering danger. And then… movement.
Mei'yin stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes that were glassy but aware. She sat up slowly, her hands pressed to her stomach as if anchoring herself to the world. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and the fine line of exhaustion etched her face.
Ms. Ye watched silently, careful not to interfere.
"Mei'yin…" she whispered softly, though the sound was more of acknowledgment than concern.
Mei'yin blinked, her gaze distant, lost in her own thoughts. She didn't immediately respond. Each breath seemed measured, as if she were calculating how much energy she could spare to simply exist.
"I… I'm fine," Mei'yin said at last, her voice weak but steady, carrying a note of quiet pride.
Ms. Ye's lips pressed together, a faint smile forming despite the worry still in her eyes.
Mei'yin swung her legs off the bed, still unsteady. She looked down at her hands, pale and trembling slightly.Baoli Zong
The practice hall was filled with the rhythmic sounds of swords striking wooden dummies and the soft shuffle of students moving between drills.
In a quieter corner, Mo Yuming and Qin Yuxi sparred lightly, their movements precise but measured, each testing the other's reflexes and strategy.
Yuming smirked, deflecting one of Yuxi's thrusts.
"You've gotten slower, Qin. Are you slacking off during training?"
Yuxi's l shook his head.
"I'm pacing myself. You should focus on keeping up instead of mocking me."
Yuming chuckled, sidestepping another strike and tapping him lightly on the shoulder with her practice blade.
"Careful, or I'll make you eat the floor."
"Try it," Yuxi replied evenly, circling her, eyes sharp.
They moved with a natural rhythm, a combination of teasing and challenge, their unspoken competition evident in every strike and block.
Yuming lowered her blade and gave a mock bow.
"Alright, maybe you're not as slow as I thought. But don't think you've beaten me yet."
Yuxi's expression stayed calm, his tone measured.
"I never claimed victory. I'm just waiting for you to make a mistake."
They paused for a moment, catching their breaths.
Yuming leaned on her blade, grinning slightly.
"You know, training with you isn't so bad. At least you don't complain like the others."
"I keep to myself. Complaining wastes energy."
"Hmph, I should've guessed."
A light laugh escaped Yuming as they both straightened, ready to resume.
The clang of swords rang sharply as Mo Yuming and Qin Yuxi sparred, each movement fluid, precise, a wordless conversation of skill and restraint.
From the doorway, Bai Linyan leaned lightly against the frame, a small, polite smile on her lips. Her eyes followed Yuxi, noting the red bracelet glinting on his wrist. Nothing was said, but her gaze lingered just a little too long.
"Impressive form," she murmured softly, her voice sweet and modest, almost like a compliment to both of them.
Yuxi paused mid-strike and glanced at her, expression calm, cool as ever.
"Lady Bai Linyan," Yuming said evenly, lowering her stance. "Watching again?"
"Only…" she replied lightly, stepping onto the mat with measured elegance. "I'm simply… making sure no one overexerts themselves. One must be careful while training."
Yuming's eyes flicked toward her, wary.
"Careful, huh?" she said lightly. "Or are you still keeping an eye on him?"
Linyan's smile never wavered, the edge of her possessiveness hidden behind demure politeness.
"I can wait," she said softly, almost as if to herself. "There's no rush… when he's ready, he'll know."
Her words carried an unspoken meaning, but framed innocently, so no one could accuse her of being bitter or jealous. She moved with grace, weaving around their sparring, occasionally testing Yuxi's reflexes with subtle nudges and gentle counters, all while appearing delicate and patient.
"Be careful," she said to Yuxi mid-move, her tone airy, almost playful. "I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."
Yuxi's jaw tightened slightly, though he didn't speak. Yuming's eyes narrowed, sensing her subtle control, though it was almost impossible to accuse her of anything.
Finally, they stepped back, breaths uneven, eyes sharp. Linyan straightened her posture, her polite smile unwavering, her claim unspoken but clear.
Yuxi didn't respond, his gaze briefly lingering on her before returning to Yuming. Linyan's smile remained sweet, modest, patient. The garden was quiet, save for the gentle rustle of leaves and the faint hum of insects. Feng Lingxi walked slowly along the cobblestone path, her gaze distant, eyes shadowed with grief she had tried to suppress for months.
From behind a stone lantern, Qin Yijun appeared, his usual playful demeanor softened, replaced by a rare seriousness. He approached carefully, keeping a respectful distance.
"Lingxi," he said gently, his voice low, carrying sincerity. "I know words can't undo what happened… but I want you to know that you don't have to bear this alone."
Lingxi's lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tight. Her eyes flicked to him, searching for a response she couldn't quite voice.
"I… I don't even know where to begin," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything feels… broken. First my father..... and now my Mother… everything is gone! Even my youngest sister is turning herself against us!!"
Yijun nodded, stepping closer but keeping his tone soft.
"It's okay to feel that way," he said gently. "You don't have to pretend to be strong for anyone. Not for me, not for yourself, not for the world."
Lingxi's eyes flickered down to the garden path, and the tension in her shoulders became visible.
"I… I'm not supposed to fall apart," she whispered. "I have to be… cold. Controlled. I can't—"
Her voice cracked, the dam holding back months of grief finally giving way. Tears spilled freely, and her sobs echoed softly against the stones.
Yijun didn't flinch. Instead, he stepped forward, enveloping her in a gentle embrace. His arms were steady, warm, and grounding.
"It's okay," he murmured softly. "Let it out. I'll be here. Always."
Lingxi clung to him, her body trembling, her heart breaking in ways she had denied herself for too long. The weight of months of suppressed grief finally released, the tears flowing freely in the quiet garden.
Minutes passed. The sun dipped lower, casting golden hues across the blossoms. Slowly, her trembling eased. Exhaustion pulled her into Yijun's arms, and the sobs softened to soft sniffles.
"Sleep…" he whispered, stroking her hair. "You need rest."
And she did. Lingxi, the coldest person in the world, the girl who rarely showed weakness, finally allowed herself to fall asleep in Yijun's embrace. The garden held them in quiet, wrapping them in solace and a rare moment of peace.
----
The soft golden light of late afternoon filtered through the carved windows of Qingju Pavilion, painting the polished wooden floor in warm patterns. The air was quiet, yet heavy with lingering sorrow.
Feng Xiao sat on a chair, her hands gently resting on her rounded stomach. Her usually composed expression was clouded with grief, eyes downcast as if carrying the weight of the world.
Beside her, Madam Su reached out, placing a gentle hand on Xiao's shoulder.
"Child… it is natural to mourn. Loss touches us all, yet you must also care for the life you carry."
Tears glistening at the corner of her eyes.
Master Bai Yue approached slowly, his usual stern composure softened by concern.
"Xiao, Grief is not a weakness, and your mother would not want you to bear this alone. You have a family now — your husband, your child, and those who care for you. We are here." Bai Yue took a seat nearby, folding his hands over his knees.
"Strength is not only in action, Xiao. It is in patience, in endurance, and in allowing yourself to grieve while still moving forward. You do not carry this alone."
Xiao's eyes shimmered with tears as she finally allowed herself to release the tension she had held inside. A quiet sob escaped, and Madam Su moved closer, embracing her gently.
"It is alright, child," Madam Su whispered. "Let it out. We are here."
Bai Yue's gaze softened, watching the young woman allow herself this moment of vulnerability.
Outside, the courtyard remained calm, but inside Qingju Pavilion, warmth and care surrounded Xiao. For the first time since her mother's passing, she felt the gentle steadiness of support — a reminder that she was not alone, and that even in grief, there could be hope.
Fengming Hall hummed with a different kind of tension that morning — not the bitter, knife-edge anger of accusation, but the heavy, measured quiet of decisions being made.
Feng Yangguang moved through the hall like a man clearing dust from a table.
When he at last took the seat at the head of the table, the other Masters and clan elders — Bai Yue, Qin Jian, Mo Xiang among them — were already assembled. Faces that had stared at one another across suspicion these last weeks now turned to him, waiting.
Yangguang rose. The room fell utterly silent. His word was simple, not cruel but final.
"We have argued and pointed fingers until our tongues are tired. We have spilled blood and breathed fear into people who only wanted to live. This ends today."
Master Bai's lips tightened. "You would call off punishment? After an attempt on your father's life?"
Yangguang held his gaze, steady as the carved pillars. "We investigated. The attempt was real — but it was not the cause of Father's death. That's demands consequence for the attempt, yes, but it does not demand we become monsters in its name." He let that sit among them. "Feng Mei'yin has chosen to pay for this in a way none of us expected. She gave up her place she hung no nore, severed her name from our roll. She sheltered those accused — and she did it knowing what it would cost. That sacrifice is not nothing."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Lingxi's jaw worked; Xiao's hands clenched under the table.
Master Qin Jian inclined his head slightly. "She acted from conviction, and the investigation bears that out. Yet the attempt itself remains an affront to clan order."
"Then we do what the clans do," Yangguang said. "We keep balance." He unfolded a scroll and laid it on the table like a map. "I order the Ye residence left in peace. No more raids, no more public punishment. They may live in their lands without interference — so long as they do not cross our borders or harm the Feng. If any of their people break that pact, they will be answered for, swiftly and surely."
Bai Yue's hand struck the table, not as forcefully as before but enough to show his displeasure. "You give them free reign while we live under the shadow of a blade aimed at us? You would have us swallow that?"
Yangguang's voice did not waver. "I give them life in exchange for restraint. We are not asking for blind trust — only peace. We set the boundary. If they respect it, the Ye will rebuild quietly. If they do not, we will enforce the law. That is justice: a clear rule, and the willingness to enforce it when it is broken."
Mo Xiang studied Yangguang as if measuring wood for a beam. "You speak like a leader, Feng Yangguang. A leader must bear the cost of hard decisions."
Master Bai's expression softened, but his pride stayed. "Then we shall test it. If the Ye keep to the boundary, their people will not be punished for the sins of others."
Master Jian tapped the table once, summing up. "Let it be recorded: the Ye residence is to be left free. Any transgression will be judged in council. Let the record show our intention to keep order and to prevent needless suffering."
An elder took up the seal and pressed it to ink, then to the parchment. The sound was small, ceremonious — a finality that threaded through the hall.
Feng Xiao's hand found Yangguang's for a moment beneath the table — a small, human anchor. Lingxi's eyes flicked to the doorway as if she expected Mei'yin's shadow to appear there, but the doorway remained empty.
Alone, Yangguang remained at the head of the long table for a while longer. He rose, stepped to the window, and looked toward the place beyond the hills. In the hush, he let himself think of his sister — the one who had chosen exile to hold others back from suffering — and for the first time the weight of leadership felt less like armor and more like a wound he would have to carry with him, always.
"Peace," he murmured to himself. "If we can keep it, then let it be our answer."
The Fengming Hall was quieter now, the meeting concluded, yet the tension lingered in the polished air. Feng Yangguang stood near the window, gazing toward the horizon with a thoughtful expression. Beside him, Yuxi shifted uneasily, sensing the weight behind Yangguang's gaze.
"Yuxi," Yangguang began, his voice measured but firm,
"I need you to deliver a message to Mei'yin."
Yuxi looked up, attentive.
Yangguang's eyes softened slightly, the rare vulnerability in his voice clear. "Tell her… that her sacrifices are seen, that she is respected, and that she needn't carry every burden alone..... She may still have feelings for you, I know. That doesn't matter. She needs to hear reassurance from someone she trusts."
Yuxi nodded, swallowing his unease. "I have to tell you something, the last time I visited Mei'yin… she was poisoned By the arrow hit to her. "
Yangguang's brows furrowed, tension tightening in his shoulders. "The arrow has a poison?"
"Don't worry," Yuxi quickly added, "She's fine now. She survived… and she's strong, as always."
Feng Xiao, standing nearby, clenched her fists. "I want to see her."
Feng Lingxi's sharp gaze immediately fixed on her sister. "Sister Xiao, you're pregnant. That's too dangerous!"
Xiao shook her head, determination in her eyes. "I want to see her… I need to say sorry, I can't let this moment pass."
Yuxi's expression softened, a gentle sigh escaping him. "You know your sister. Mei'yin would never think badly of you. She understands."
Xiao's resolve did not waver. "Even so… I want to go with you. I need to see her, to apologize properly."
Yangguang looked between the siblings, his expression tight. He could not refuse a pregnant woman's command. Finally, he nodded and motioned to one of the guards.
"Prepare protection. My sisters will go, but they will be guarded. No harm will come to them—or to anyone else," he said firmly.
Yuxi exhaled slowly, realizing the weight of the journey ahead.
The carriage rolled gently along the forest edge, carrying Yuxi, Feng Xiao, and Feng Lingxi. The air was quiet, save for the soft crunch of the wheels on the path. As they neared the entrance to Ye territory, Yuxi's sharp gaze fell on the barrier that shimmered faintly before them. He knew instantly they could not pass.
He turned to Xiao and Lingxi, voice calm but firm:
"I can come in. I'll take her from here."
Xiao's hand rested protectively on her belly, and Lingxi's eyes were cautious, but both nodded in understanding. They stayed behind as Yuxi stepped forward, his figure merging with the shadows of the trees.
Inside the forest, Mei'yin stood with Ye Dushen. The sunlight filtered softly through the leaves, casting patterns on the ground. They were talking casually when Yuxi's presence appeared, quiet yet undeniable.
Dushen, recognizing the space this reunion demanded, stepped back, giving Mei'yin and Yuxi the space they needed.
Yuxi approached, his expression unreadable, yet his voice carried a quiet warmth as he spoke the words of Feng Yangguang that made Mei'yin's lips curve into a faint, bittersweet smile.
"You can return to Fengming," he said, hope threading through each word. "Please… go back to Fengming."
Silence fell, heavy and contemplative.
Mei'yin's gaze shifted to the ground before meeting his, calm but resolute.
"This is my home," she said softly. "Fengming is just… the past now. I can't see myself living there without the people I love."
Yuxi's expression, cold and guarded as always, cracked just slightly. "How about me?" he asked, the question sharp, carrying the weight of everything unspoken.
Mei'yin's eyes lowered, the red string around her wrist catching the dappled sunlight.
"I've cut all my ties to Feng… and our engagement is included. I'm married to Ye Dushen. I'm not Feng now."
A quiet pain flickered across Yuxi's face. His hands tightened, and for a moment, the forest seemed to still around them.
After a pause, his voice softened, almost vulnerable:
"Before you go… can you walk me out in the forest?"
Mei'yin blinked, surprised by the request, but nodded.
"Yes," she said quietly, taking the first step alongside him, the forest wrapping around them in a gentle, protective embrace.
The silence between them was not empty; it was filled with all they had shared, all they had lost, and all they could no longer claim.