The Sect Master's order was absolute — they were confined to the inner grounds, forbidden to take missions or even step beyond the boundary of the white jade walls.
Lan Xiyue didn't mind walls. He'd spent his life mastering self-control, living inside rules and duty. But this time, the confinement was… different. Because Ruo Han was here.
Their quarters were separated only by a single courtyard, a lantern-lit garden of plum blossoms. At night, the scent of the blossoms mingled with Ruo Han's rain-honey fragrance, threading into Lan Xiyue's thoughts when he was supposed to be meditating.
On the third day, Elder Qian summoned them for "joint training" in the Cloud Hall's martial arena. The stone floor gleamed under the morning light, and the cold air bit at their skin.
"You will spar," Elder Qian said, his tone dry. "Show me if the rumors of your… 'coordination' have any truth."
Lan Xiyue stepped into the ring first, expression unreadable. Ruo Han followed, his eyes cool, though his pulse was not.
They began slow — testing. Lan Xiyue's strikes were precise, elegant arcs of steel; Ruo Han's movements were quick, evasive, drawing him in only to slip away. The clash of blade against blade rang through the hall.
But then, something shifted. The bond woke.
It wasn't the heat of rut or the haze of pheromones — it was deeper, a synchronized rhythm. Lan Xiyue knew exactly where Ruo Han would step before he did; Ruo Han could feel the flicker of Lan Xiyue's intent like a current under his skin. Their movements tightened, sharpened, until the spar was less a fight and more a dance.
By the time Lan Xiyue had Ruo Han's wrist caught and his blade's edge resting at his throat, the air between them was hot enough to feel — and Elder Qian's sharp gaze did not miss it.
"Enough."
They separated, but the pull lingered. Ruo Han's lips were parted, breath uneven. Lan Xiyue's hand flexed once, as if it didn't like letting go.
Elder Qian dismissed them, but his eyes held something that made Ruo Han uneasy.
That night, the plum blossoms fell thick in the courtyard. Lan Xiyue stood beneath them, staring at Ruo Han's lit window across the way. The bond hummed, restless, wanting. And for the first time, Lan Xiyue wondered if the walls meant to keep them safe… might just trap them instead.