Xinyu turned in time to see him walking forward, elegant in layers of black and jade-green, his long hair pulled back with a silver clasp. He looked freshly rested, calm—untouchably beautiful in the way that some people were just made to wound hearts by existing.
Lingque still had one hand on Xinyu's shoulder. Xinyu had his hand halfway raised to hers.
To anyone else, it probably looked like they were locked in some kind of flirtatious scuffle.
Xinyu flinched, immediately straightening, hand dropping like a guilty child's.
"G-good morning… Your Highness," he mumbled, eyes darting away like frightened fish.
Hua Ling gave him a long, unreadable look. "Hm."
He walked past them without a pause.
Lingque blinked, then performed a small, awkward bow. "Your Highness," she murmured.
As soon as he was a few steps away, she bounced back to Xinyu, eyes gleaming.
"He looks so pretty up close," she whispered, clutching her sleeves. "I'm so excited to go on a trip with him. Hey, you saw his sleeping face, right? Tell me what it looked like. Was it angelic? Did he drool a little?"
Xinyu elbowed her hard. "Chicken, keep your voice down! He'll hear you!"
"But I want him to hear me," she whined. "Also, don't be greedy—share the details! That kind of thing is meant to be enjoyed together."
"You're insane," he muttered, cheeks burning.
She made a dramatic sniff. "And you're selfish."
Their argument was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps—Chi Ruyan, serene as ever, and Mochen, whose eyes flickered in Xinyu's direction before promptly retreating again.
Chi Ruyan offered a tight smile. "Are we all here?"
Mochen said nothing. He stood at the edge of the group, eyes fixed on the horizon, looking every bit like he wanted to be anywhere else.
Elder Zhong had said little about the nature of the mission. Only that it involved "spiritual disturbances" near the old cloud burial cliffs—a cursed place abandoned even by the most curious cultivators. No one quite knew what they'd face.
But even before setting foot on the path, the tension between them already hummed like a tightened bowstring.
Xinyu took a small step back, creating space between himself and Hua Ling. He didn't look at him again.
And Hua Ling, whose fingers twitched minutely by his side, didn't reach for him either.
The road ahead was long.
And their hearts—too full, too fragile—were already walking different paths.
The path to the town was not long, but the silence that stretched between the travelers was. With each step closer to their unknown destination, the air grew heavier, colder—not with winter's bite, but with the quiet weight of things unsaid.
They arrived by mid-morning. A quaint settlement nestled just beyond the skirts of a bustling city, the town was the kind people passed through without learning its name. Wooden buildings crouched low to the earth, roofs slouched under the pressure of last night's snow. Doors were closed. Windows shuttered. Smoke curled from chimneys, yet the streets were too quiet, like something had pressed its hand over the town's mouth and told it not to scream.
Elder Zhong had said nothing of what to expect, only that they were to investigate and report—perhaps even gain enough merit to earn a higher rank. But there was no guidance, no map, only the pull of a thread tied loosely to the sleeve of fate.
They made for the inn first. It was the only building that seemed to breathe—warmth glowing from behind its papered windows, the low hum of voices muffled inside.
A room for each of them. No questions asked. The innkeeper's smile was flat and distant, as though carved into wood.
Soon after, they scattered.
Mochen went off alone, feet dragging like someone searching for something and praying not to find it.
Chi Ruyan, ever the shadow stitched to Hua Ling's side, followed him like a quiet perfume. She had no interest in the mission; her gaze lingered only on him. Her eyes had no room for ghosts or clues.
Xinyu and Lingque took to the streets. Together, as always, but no longer the same as before.
The town was still. Every step they took echoed like thunder. Shops were open, but empty. The air smelled of salt, woodsmoke, and something else—something old and damp, like rain left too long in a forgotten cellar.
Lingque's nose twitched.
"Something's wrong," she muttered, tugging at the end of her sleeve. "This town feels like it's holding its breath."
They ducked into a small restaurant, its inside dim and half-abandoned. Lingque, with her usual lack of shame, grabbed the arm of a passing girl who looked no older than fifteen, her hair tied back in a hasty braid.
"Psst! Hey, little girl," she whispered, leaning close as if conspiring. "Got a few questions. Has anything weird happened around here lately? You know, ghosts, monsters, disappearances—maybe a haunted chicken?"
The girl's eyes widened like full moons. She leaned forward, close enough that Xinyu caught the scent of wood ash in her hair.
"Jiejie…" she said, voice barely more than a breath, "you better not be involved. I don't want to jinx myself. I—I shouldn't talk about it…"
And then she turned and ran, vanishing into the back kitchen like smoke chased by wind.
Lingque stared after her, unimpressed. "Strange girl," she muttered, folding her arms. "Could've at least pointed us in a direction. People these days. Can't even gossip properly."
Xinyu didn't answer. His eyes were elsewhere, narrowed in thought.
After a moment, he stood.
"Let's go," he said quietly. "I know where to ask."
Outside, the cold had deepened. Their breath fogged in the air like ghosts reluctant to move on. They wrapped their cloaks tighter and trudged toward the outskirts of the market, where the cobblestones turned to dirt and the buildings leaned in with age.
They stopped at a butcher shop. The door was open. The air inside reeked of iron and blood, though neither Xinyu nor Lingque flinched.
The butcher stood behind his table, sleeves rolled to the elbow, his hands methodical as he carved through flesh with a heavy cleaver. Thick arms. Scarred knuckles. His face blank.
Xinyu bowed politely. "Good day, sir. Might we ask a few questions?"
No response.
Only the steady, rhythmic thud of blade against board.
Xinyu tried again. "Have you noticed anything strange in town lately?"
Still silence.
Then, after a long pause, the cleaver stilled.
The butcher's voice came, rough as a whetstone. "You really want to know?"
Xinyu and Lingque exchanged a glance and nodded.
"Then follow me," he said, wiping his hands on a rag that was once white.
Elsewhere, Hua Ling walked the town like a prince lost in a fable. His footsteps left no trace, yet the air stirred in his wake, uneasy. His senses stretched wide, and what they found was… wrong.
There was something under the surface of this town, like rot beneath clean cloth. People spoke in hushed tones. They smiled too long. Some of them looked at him, and quickly looked away—as if they feared he'd see through them.
Beside him, Chi Ruyan adjusted her cloak and said sweetly, "Your Highness needn't concern yourself with such trivial matters. You should let others do the asking."
He didn't answer her. His gaze had fixed on a trio of girls standing near the well, giggling behind their sleeves as they stole glances at him.
Ruyan followed his eyes. Her lips tightened. "They're just commoners," she muttered, voice taut. "They wouldn't know anything useful."
But Hua Ling had already moved forward.
He approached with that same quiet gravity that turned heads wherever he went. The girls startled as he drew near, their laughter dying in their throats.
He offered a polite nod. "Pardon me. May I trouble you for a moment?"
One of them—bolder than the rest, perhaps younger—stepped forward and curtsied.
"Y-Young master!…"
"Has anything unusual occurred in your town recently?" he asked gently. "Even small things. Sudden changes in behavior. Missing persons. Unexplained sickness."
The girl hesitated. She glanced at her friends, then looked back at Hua Ling. Her voice dropped.
Behind Hua Ling, Chi Ruyan had stepped forward, her smile frozen, sharp as frost. The girl paled, lips sealing as if sewn shut.
"I—I need to go," she stammered.
And then she ran.
Hua Ling stood still for a long moment, watching her disappear into the narrow alleyways.
Chi Ruyan said nothing. Her eyes, cool and flat, were fixed on the spot where the girl had stood.
Whatever this mission was, it had already begun unraveling at the edges.
And in the heart of this silent town, something waited, unseen.
Something that did not want to be found.