The morning moved in measured breaths. Mist clung to the courtyard tiles and the pines dripped with small, patient droplets as if the world were washing itself of rumor. Li Wei rose with the ledger beneath his arm—the same careful record-keeping that had become both shield and sermon. Today he intended nothing more theatrical than another supervised practice and a short lecture on aftercare procedure. The work was boring in the best possible way: repetitive, visible, accountable.
Hua Lin met him at the herb garden with a slate of stones in her hand. "We'll run three short drills and then open the pavilion for questions," she said. "Master Han will circulate. Keep the consent script brief. Remember: clarity is defense."
He nodded. Mei Ling and Yun Shuang arrived first, steady as oars. Lianxi carried a tray of steaming buns—small, aromatic comforts meant for aftercare—and Ruo Yan had already set up a neat stack of diagram scrolls for anyone who wanted the technical reads. The little constellation of people around him felt like an anchor more than a parade.
They worked through grounding breath, minor anchoring drills, and a short team exercise that emphasized withdrawal on command—a practice designed not to show intimacy but to teach the language of safety. The system registered each move with its usual, impassive punctuality.
[DAILY LOG]
Host: Li Wei
Activity: Supervised Practice — Consent & Withdrawal Protocols.
Observers: Master Han (circulating), Hua Lin (coordinator).
Reward: +40 Qi (compliance).
Li Wei was mid-demonstration when he first noticed the shadow on the inner veranda: a thin silhouette, then another, then more, each just beyond the carved balustrade where the inner disciples watched from a distance most outer disciples never occupied. The inner veranda was an elevated sinew of the sect—visibility with distance, power disguised as indifference.
He kept his rhythm rather than stare. Waning performance, he had learned, was a temptation these places loved. Still, he felt the presence like a draft. Lan Yue's profile, high and deliberate, was unmistakable among them. Near her, someone he did not know—an inner disciple with the precise features of someone who spent nights in study and days in subtle politicking—held a fan closed in their hands like a judge's gavel. A few others scribbled on thin slates, eyes flicking between movement and note.
When the session ended, Master Han called the group to sit. He asked a question Li Wei had rehearsed an answer to: "How do you ensure withdrawal is honored in practice and spirit?"
Li Wei answered plainly: "Verbal signals. A physical break-signal. Post-session documentation. Individualized aftercare. And a rotation of witnesses so responsibility is shared—not concentrated." He unfolded the ledger and showed a page: names, times, signatures. The inner veranda listened in the way a patient sea listens to rain.
The reaction below the balustrade was not uniform. A tall inner brother with hawkish eyes leaned forward and whispered to his neighbor—disapproval in the bend of a brow. Another woman tucked a note into her sleeve with the economy of someone storing a tool. Lan Yue's face, when she finally chose to lower her gaze, read like a measurement: not quite praise, not quite censure.
After the formal practice, when Li Wei and his circle shared Lianxi's buns and Ruo Yan passed around annotated diagrams, one of the inner disciples detached from the veranda and descended the steps as if gravity had reclassified him. He did not speak aloud until he stood in the garden's quiet.
"You teach well," the newcomer said, voice even. "Your protocols are clear, and your documentation is… thorough. That is rare."
Li Wei bowed out of habit. "Thank you. We try to make things visible so rumor has less purchase."
The inner disciple studied him. "Visibility is one defense. But not the only one. I watched your triad session last month." His eyes darkened like ink. "There are efficiencies in harmonic concordance no ledger can deny. But efficiencies can be sharpened into instruments if poorly governed."
Li Wei felt the old hum of caution. "I concur. That's why we have witnesses, aftercare, and rotation. We do not want instruments. We want stabilizing practices."
The man's mouth tilted in something like approval. "Words are well-formed. Many speak well. Few balance well. If you continue, expect closer observation—but also, perhaps, those among us who will test your governance not to condemn it, but to learn it. If you are open to scrutiny, come to the inner library tomorrow at dusk. I will bring texts on ritual governance. They are… antiquarian, but useful."
Li Wei recognized the offer for what it was: a veiled invitation, neither friend nor threat, a measured bridging between tiers. He accepted cautiously. "I will attend. Thank you."
When the inner disciple left, Lan Yue stepped down the veranda as well, her motion quieter, deliberate. "You've built rooms," she said without épée or ultrafine compliment. "But remember—they will come to study the rooms as much as to live in them. Some will copy your locks, others will try to pick them."
He met her without flinching. "Then I will teach locks that cannot be picked easily."
She gave a brief, almost approving nod. "That is good. Keep your circle wide, but your protections wider."
Not every glance from the inner veranda had been kindly. A few watchers had hardened faces—suspicion braided with something like doctrinal horror at what they read as unorthodox methods. An inner sister, pale and severe, left her place and sent a discreet, formal question through Master Han about the specific meditation lines used; it read as professional curiosity, but Li Wei knew it could yield a thin, academic dossier of criticism if parsed by the wrong hands.
Hua Lin read those moves like a teacher reading a student's careless breath. "You will need to select what to show them," she advised later as they packed scrolls. "Transparency is good. But not every angle. The envoy will not like us revealing too much of the harmonic signatures. Preserve the core—teach governance and let them ask for more."
Ruo Yan added, with the dry amusement of scholarship, "And keep your copy of the ledger precise. Historians and scolds both love the exact phrase."
The system, impartial and observant, added its own note as Li Wei cataloged the morning.
[NOTIFICATION]
Host: Li Wei
Event: Inner Observation Logged — Mixed Reactions Detected.
Effect: +20 Qi (visibility) / Inner Attention Increased. Hint: Leverage invitation to the inner library for controlled knowledge exchange.
Li Wei read the line twice and felt the familiar twin of vanity and danger—the reward for being seen and the price of being examined. He made a plan. He would attend the inner library meeting at dusk, but under conditions: Hua Lin would accompany him; Master Han's acolyte would keep minutes; and the ledger's public copy would be available to the hall.
That afternoon he briefed Mei Ling and the rest. "We will show governance, not methods," he told them. "We will be open to questions, but we will not allow our practices to be pried into exploitation. If any criticize technique rather than governance, we pivot to policy."
They agreed. The circle's trust tightened into an organized readiness rather than a romantic pact—practical, steady, suited to the sort of quiet politics the inner veranda favored.
As dusk gathered, Li Wei walked the path to the inner library like a man carrying fragile books. The envoy's talisman in his pocket lay cool; the Obsidian Heart under his robe was a quiet pulse. He felt watched, yes, but also recognized: an unusual position for a man once only known for a scandalous kiss. Eyes from the inner veranda had looked down; some with coldness, some with curiosity, and some—most dangerously—with the intent to learn. He would teach locks. He would keep his rooms open enough for those who came to learn and closed enough to keep those who would prey away.
The Perverted Dao had turned his life into an architecture of attention. He had learned to welcome the right kind of eyes—and to make sure the wrong kind could not look through the windows.
End of Chapter 22