Lu Yan woke to cold.
Not the sharp kind that bit.
The kind that lingered.
A thin film clung to his skin, like frost remembered rather than felt. He lay still, eyes open, staring at the low stone ceiling while his breath slowly evened out.
Lin Yue had left.
That was certain.
But she hadn't taken everything with her.
You're smiling, the Manual observed lazily.
"I'm not."
Your pulse disagrees.
He exhaled and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. The room was unchanged—plain, narrow, safe. Too safe for what had happened inside it.
He ran a hand through his hair, then paused.
There.
A faint trace along his wrist. Pale. Almost like a bruise made of ice.
Not pain.
A reminder.
He flexed his fingers once, then let his hand fall.
"Trouble," he murmured.
Opportunity, the Manual corrected.
Outside, the sect was already awake. Footsteps echoed through the corridors. Voices overlapped. The mountain felt… attentive. Like it hadn't gone back to sleep after last night.
Lu Yan washed quickly, pulled on his robe, and stepped outside.
The air hit him immediately—crisp, thin, carrying whispers that weren't sound so much as intention. Conversations dipped as he passed. Eyes slid away when he glanced back.
No one confronted him.
No one smiled.
Good.
He headed toward the outer training grounds, keeping his pace unhurried. If he hurried, it would look like guilt. If he lingered, curiosity.
Neither suited him.
They're deciding what you are, the Manual said. Dangerous. Useful. Disposable.
"And you?"
I already decided.
The training grounds came into view—stone circles scuffed by years of repetition, racks of dulled weapons, bodies moving through drills with practiced boredom.
Mo Xian'er spotted him immediately.
She was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, posture lazy enough to be deliberate. When their eyes met, her smile sharpened.
"You look well-rested," she said when he drew near.
"Should I not?"
Her gaze flicked to his wrist.
Just a flick.
"Depends," she replied lightly. "On who visited you last night."
He raised an eyebrow. "You broke into my room once. Planning a habit?"
She laughed, bright and unbothered, then stepped closer. "If I had, you'd know."
Close enough now that her shoulder brushed his arm. Warm. Solid. Intentionally grounding.
"Lin Yue came," she said softly. Not asking.
Lu Yan didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Her smile thinned.
"So," she continued, circling him slowly, "the ice fairy slips into an outer disciple's room at night, and you walk around like nothing happened."
He turned with her, keeping her in view. "You're assuming a lot."
"I'm observing."
She stopped in front of him. Looked up. Her eyes searched his face, sharp and unyielding.
"Did she touch you?"
The question landed heavier than it should have.
He tilted his head. "Why does that matter?"
Her lips parted, then pressed together. A beat.
"Because if she did," Mo Xian'er said quietly, "then things are going to get messy."
The Manual hummed, delighted.
Jealousy tastes different when it hasn't earned the right yet.
Lu Yan leaned closer—not crowding, just enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to keep eye contact.
"Then I suggest," he said calmly, "you don't make assumptions that would force you to act on them."
Her breath hitched.
Just a little.
She laughed it off a second later, stepping back with a flick of her wrist. "You're dangerous."
"So I've been told."
Before she could reply, a bell rang.
Short. Sharp. Summoning.
Not an alarm.
A call.
Mo Xian'er's expression shifted instantly. "That's for you."
Lu Yan frowned. "Outer disciples don't get summoned."
She smiled. "You do now."
An attendant was already approaching, posture stiff, eyes refusing to linger.
"Lu Yan," he said. "Elder Su Mei requests your presence."
Around them, the training grounds stilled.
Just a fraction.
Enough.
Lu Yan nodded once. "Lead the way."
Mo Xian'er watched him go, eyes narrowed, fingers curling slowly at her side.
"This isn't over," she called after him.
He didn't turn.
Su Mei's chambers were warmer than he remembered.
Not in temperature.
In presence.
Shelves lined the walls, packed with jars and scrolls and things that hummed softly when he passed. The scent of herbs was stronger here, layered with something darker underneath—ink, maybe. Or intent.
Su Mei stood near the window, back to him.
"Close the door," she said.
He did.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
She turned.
Her gaze swept over him, thorough and unashamed. Lingering at his wrist. His throat. His eyes.
"You slept," she said.
"Yes."
"Did you dream?"
He considered lying.
Didn't.
"Yes."
Her lips curved faintly. "Of course you did."
She gestured to a low table. "Sit."
He remained standing. "I'd rather not."
That amused her.
"Still pretending you have leverage," she murmured. "Sit anyway."
He did.
She moved closer, unhurried, and took the seat across from him. For a moment, neither spoke.
The silence wasn't empty.
It was evaluative.
"You destabilize things by existing," Su Mei said finally.
"Then why am I here?"
"Because you stabilize them too."
She leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. "Lin Yue reported improved containment after your interference."
"I didn't interfere."
"You did," she said. "You just didn't dominate."
Her eyes sharpened. "Do you know how rare that is?"
He met her gaze. "I don't enjoy forcing outcomes."
"That's a luxury."
"Or a discipline."
A pause.
Su Mei studied him like a puzzle she didn't want solved too quickly.
"You've drawn attention," she said. "From places that don't look kindly on anomalies."
"I'm not hiding."
"I know." She smiled faintly. "That's why you're interesting."
She reached out, fingers brushing his wrist—exactly where the frost mark lingered. Her touch was warm. Clinical.
The ice reacted.
Subtly.
Her brows lifted.
"Residual," she murmured. "Strong."
He didn't pull away.
Didn't lean in.
Just watched her watch him.
"You were careful," she said. "Both of you."
"Yes."
"That makes it worse."
The Manual stirred, pleased.
Restraint increases value. Didn't I tell you?
Su Mei withdrew her hand. "I won't ask what happened last night."
"Thank you."
"I will tell you this," she continued. "Lin Yue is not used to being the one who hesitates."
Neither are you, he thought.
He kept that to himself.
"You're to remain visible," she said. "Attend your duties. Don't isolate. Don't provoke."
"And if I do?"
Her smile sharpened. "Then I'll intervene."
The word lingered, ambiguous.
Dismissal came without ceremony. He stood, inclined his head, and left.
The corridor felt narrower on the way out.
By the time he returned to the outer grounds, the sun had climbed higher. The mountain no longer felt watchful.
It felt awake.
Mo Xian'er was gone.
Lin Yue was nowhere to be seen.
Good.
Bad.
Both.
Lu Yan finished his assigned tasks without incident. Carried water. Sorted materials. Listened more than he spoke.
The whispers followed him anyway.
By evening, he found himself alone again, seated on a stone step overlooking the drop beyond the sect's edge. The sky burned orange and violet, clouds stretched thin like pulled silk.
He leaned back on his hands and let the air cool his skin.
You're quiet, the Manual noted.
"Thinking."
About her.
"About all of them."
The Manual laughed softly. Careful. Thinking leads to attachment.
"And attachment leads to power."
A dangerous equivalence, it warned.
Footsteps approached.
Measured.
Familiar.
Lu Yan didn't turn.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
Lin Yue stopped beside him.
Not behind.
Beside.
The frost came with her, softer now. Less defensive.
"I won't stay," she said.
He nodded. "You already proved you can leave."
Silence settled between them, not awkward this time. Just… charged.
"I thought about what you said," she admitted.
He waited.
"About restraint," she continued. "About carrying something that doesn't want to stay contained."
She turned to look at him. The sunset caught in her eyes, fracturing the blue into something warmer.
"I don't like that you see it," she said.
"I won't pretend I don't."
Her jaw tightened. Then loosened.
She took a breath. "This can't progress."
He smiled faintly. "Then don't let it."
Her gaze flicked to his mouth. Back to his eyes.
"That's not fair."
"No," he agreed softly. "It isn't."
The Manual hummed, deeply satisfied.
—
[Desire Level: 12% → 14%]
Bond Status: Attraction (Stabilizing)
—
Lin Yue looked away first.
"I came to warn you," she said. "People are watching."
"So am I."
She stood. Hesitated.
Then spoke without looking at him. "Next time you touch me, it won't be an accident."
The words lingered long after she left.
Lu Yan remained seated, watching the sun dip below the mountains.
He didn't chase.
Didn't call after her.
He didn't need to.
The mountain sighed.
And somewhere deep beneath it, the waiting thing shifted again—closer this time, drawn not by force, but by the quiet pull of something finally beginning to take shape.