Tonight, the moon hung low over Jingshou Peak, a pale disc veiled by drifting mist. Lanterns burned along the courtyard walls, their orange light quivering against the darkness. From the outer gates to the watchtower above the training fields, the sect's disciples moved quietly, patrolling in pairs.
Ling Xiuyuan stood near the east gate with his sword resting against his shoulder, the wind tugging faintly at his sleeves. His expression, as usual, was calm to the point of severity. Wei Jingyan leaned lazily against a pillar beside him, stifling a yawn.
"You know," Wei Jingyan said, "for something 'not that serious,' we're taking this very seriously."
Xiuyuan didn't look at him. "That's the point. The moment you stop taking it seriously is when the sect suffers."
The masters spoke in low tones of patrol routes. Mu Yichuan and Wen Yao discussed defensive formations, their voices measured and practical. Zhou Qingrong and Wei Jingyan sat a little apart, exchanging quiet remarks whenever the discussion grew too stiff.
The flicker of lamplight danced over the polished floor, and in the tense quiet, every rustle of fabric, every drawn breath seemed sharper than usual.
On the tiled roof above them lay Shen Lianxiu.
Flat on his stomach, chin propped on his arms, he peered down through a narrow gap between curved tiles, eyes wide and glittering with amusement. His robes were dusty, his hair windswept from climbing up there, but the grin on his face was bright as the moon itself.
Below, Master Pei Yunsheng was speaking in his deep, even voice:"The northern slope has been quiet these past days, but the eastern patrol found signs of trespass. Footprints—human, not beast. Whoever it was knew how to conceal their tracks."
Yue Lan folded her hands, her tone thoughtful. "Then we should strengthen the barrier around the Spirit Well. If someone has come this far, they will come again."
Mu Yichuan and Wen Yao were seated together to one side. Mu Yichuan, always the composed one, leaned slightly toward his partner and murmured something under his breath; Wen Yao's ears turned pink as he gave a restrained glare in response. Wei Jingyan smirked, trying to hide his laughter behind a sleeve, while Zhou Qingrong whispered something to him that only made it worse.
And there, near the corner, stood Ling Xiuyuan — calm, cold, perfectly still, arms folded behind his back. The firelight painted his
profile in gold: sharp jawline, serene eyes, and a composure that made him seem carved from moonlight itself.
Lianxiu stared. So serious again. His grin widened.
He wriggled closer to the edge of the roof, trying to catch every word. His elbow slipped on the curved tile; he barely caught himself, biting his lip to stifle a laugh. A faint clink of tile echoed below.
Xiuyuan's head lifted immediately.
Lianxiu froze, pressing himself flat against the roof, heart hammering. The other seniors continued their discussion — none of them noticed. Only Xiuyuan's gaze lingered, sharp as a blade.
"Uh-oh," Lianxiu whispered to himself, crawling backward — but before he could climb down, a strong hand caught his ankle.
He yelped, muffled it into his sleeve, and then found himself being pulled down from the roof with terrifying efficiency. He landed on his feet — barely — in the shadowed courtyard, facing a very unimpressed Ling Xiuyuan.
Xiuyuan's voice was low, measured, but cold enough to make the night air sharper. "Enjoying the view?"
Lianxiu blinked up at him, trying for innocence and failing miserably. "Ah… I was admiring the moonlight."
"The moonlight," Xiuyuan repeated, tone flat.
"Mm-hmm." Lianxiu nodded vigorously. "It's beautiful tonight. Almost as beautiful as—"
Xiuyuan cut in, turning away with a sigh. "If you have enough energy to climb roofs, you can wake early for morning drills."
Lianxiu followed him a few steps, grinning despite himself. "I was only trying to learn, Shixiong! You all looked so—official. I wanted to know what being a senior feels like."
Xiuyuan paused, half-turning to glance at him. "It feels like patience," he said quietly. "And you've already tested enough of mine for one night."
Lianxiu scratched his head, smiling sheepishly. "Then I suppose I've learned something after all."
Xiuyuan exhaled through his nose — not quite a sigh, not quite amusement — before motioning sharply. "Back to your quarters."
"Yes, Shixiong."
He obeyed, trailing after him through the lantern-lit corridor, still smiling to himself.
Behind his grin, though, his heart thudded fast — not from fear, but from that same unexplainable thrill. He looked right at me this time, Lianxiu thought, eyes shining. Maybe if I climb a little higher next time, he'll actually talk to me longer.
Up on the roof, one loose tile still trembled from where he'd lain — a small, silent witness to another of Shen Lianxiu's reckless little victories.
The night had grown quieter by the time Shen Lianxiu returned to the disciples' quarters. The mountain breeze had turned cool; the lanterns lining the walkway flickered faintly, casting long, sleepy shadows across the courtyard.
He walked with his hands tucked behind his head, whistling softly — utterly unbothered by the scolding he'd just received. In fact, he looked delighted about it. His grin hadn't faded since Xiuyuan had dragged him off that roof.
He actually talked to me again, he thought, kicking a pebble along the path. Well… mostly scolded me. But still!
As he rounded the corner toward the training yard, the soft rhythm of sword practice reached his ears — the whisper of cloth and the hiss of steel cutting through air.
Nie Xiaohuan stood beneath the moonlight, training alone. His stance was steady, breath sharp and precise, each strike flowing into the next. Sweat glimmered at his jawline, dark strands of hair clinging to his temple, but he didn't falter once.
On the steps nearby, Roulan sat half-asleep with her head propped on her hand, her sword lying lazily across her lap. Every few seconds, her head would droop lower — until she'd jolt awake, blink at Xiaohuan's form, and murmur, "You're still at it…? Insane…" before nodding off again.
Lianxiu slowed, watching them. Then — predictably — his grin returned.
He crept up behind Roulan, crouching low, and whispered right next to her ear, "Boo."
She let out a sharp yelp, jolting upright so fast her sword clattered to the ground. "Shen Lianxiu! You—!"
Xiaohuan's blade halted mid-swing. He turned, sighing when he saw who it was. "Back already? I thought you'd be caught climbing another roof."
Lianxiu laughed, throwing himself dramatically onto the steps beside Roulan. "Caught? Of course I was caught. Shixiong Ling himself pulled me down like a stray cat! You should've seen his face."
Roulan groaned, rubbing her eyes. "You were climbing a roof?"
"It was research!" Lianxiu protested. "I was trying to understand how guarding work."
"From above?" Xiaohuan muttered dryly, sheathing his sword.
"Best angle for observation!" Lianxiu grinned.
Xiaohuan gave him a long, unimpressed look — but a faint smile tugged at his lips despite himself. "You're hopeless."
"Hopelessly charming," Lianxiu corrected.
Roulan threw a piece of gravel at him, which he dodged easily.
The three of them stayed there a while — Roulan yawning, Xiaohuan silently wiping down his sword, and Lianxiu lying on his back staring up at the stars, his smile softening just a little.
In the quiet between their banter, his mind drifted again to the stream, the silver ripples over Xiuyuan's shoulder, the scar that now marred that perfect calm. He frowned slightly, turning his gaze away from the sky.