Night draped itself over the palace like a velvet shroud. King Tiān Lóngxuān sat cross-legged upon his bed, lantern light flickering against the stern planes of his face. Shadows bent with every tremor of the flame. Before him, General Yán Lǐng knelt unmoving, his forehead near the floor, as still as carved stone.
An hour passed before the silence broke. The King coughed.
"My lord!" Yán Lǐng raised his head sharply, alarm flashing in his eyes. The King rarely showed weakness.
The King forced himself to stand, his voice faint but steady.
"My son... how have you been?"
"My lord, your health concerns me more," Yán Lǐng said quickly, noting the frailty in his movements.
The King stepped closer, his gaze darkened.
"Yán Lǐng... when you were young, I entrusted you with a legacy. Now is the time to use it. My son—the Crown Prince—his strength grows daily, yet I cannot tell right from wrong within him. He is fierce, deadly... and must be anchored. Bring him a wife, someone who can chain his fire without breaking it."
He coughed harshly, clutching his chest, yet pressed on.
"I did not make you general in vain. There was a reason I saved your life... transferring my blood into your veins. You must stay close to him. The immortals have infested this palace, and their intentions can never be good. My ancestors made them what they are, but now they seek forbidden knowledge."
Before Yán Lǐng could respond, the King dissolved into thin air, leaving behind silence. The general's form flickered as he transformed into his truer self. He pressed his palms together, bowing deeply.
"My lord, your command is true."
With a breath, he disappeared into his own quarters.
Elsewhere in the palace, Li Fuyao's quarters echoed with laughter and music of another kind. Beneath the silver moonlight, Mò Lián and Huā Yuán spun across the courtyard, their shadows tangled on the earth.
Huā Yuán was clumsy but eager as she followed.
"There's one more step," Mò Lián said with a mischievous grin, her sleeves sweeping like flowing rivers. "I learned this myself—flow with the air. Yes, like this. Join me."
Huā Yuán tried, stumbling mid-spin. She huffed, throwing up her hands.
"This is too stressful. Forget it," she cried, tossing her hands up. — "I'll just dance what I know!"
They both broke into laughter, their voices scattering into the cool night.
But then, snow began to fall. Silent, pure, drifting from the heavens. The girls froze, tilting their faces upward, lips parting in wonder.
"Wow..." Huā Yuán whispered. They turned to each other, eyes shining, and embraced warmly before sinking to the ground, gazing at the sky as snow painted the night.
Yet Huā Yuán's smile faltered. Her memory flashed back to the storm earlier that day—the chaos, the burning in her eyes, the faceless figure beside her. She stood abruptly, pressing her palms together, staring at Mò Lián.
"Are you cold?" Mò Lián asked, worry flickering across her face.
But Huā Yuán shook her head, trembling. She slapped her own cheeks, as if trying to shake the memory away. Mò Lián grabbed her wrists, pulling her down, eyes locked on hers.
"Why?" she whispered, bewildered by the girl's distress.
Huā Yuán stammered, face flushed red. "When the storm worsened earlier... I—I wasn't alone. I was with someone, but—"
Before she could finish, Mò Lián pulled her into an embrace.
"Huā Yuán, don't dwell on it. Did anything happen to you?" she asked, stroking her back gently.
Huā Yuán trembled harder. "Something changed in me. My eyes burned, and... there was a lady. I woke up in my chamber alone, but the other maids struck me as though I had done something terrible..." Tears blurred her gaze.
Mò Lián's heart clenched. She cupped Huā Yuán's chin softly. "Don't be afraid. When I leave this capital, you will come with me."
At those words, Huā Yuán's panic eased. They clung to each other, whispering into the night until sleep stole them both.
Huā Yuán slept in Mò Lián's room that night, and they chatted till they fell asleep.
But unseen to them, a ghostly creature hovered at the edge of the warded courtyard, its form pressed against the palace's unseen barrier. Priest Tiān's protective seal crackled with divine force, keeping it at bay. The creature lingered, watching.
Meanwhile, atop the Crown Prince's quarters, Tiān Jùn sat upon the roof, the cold tiles beneath him as he stared into the night. His father's weakened figure haunted his mind, his chest heavy. He turned his palms upward, lost in thought, when a shadow fell across him.
Bái Zhēn stood at his side.
"What do you want?" Tiān Jùn muttered, eyes still on his hands.
"I waited for Lóngxuān to tell you the truth, but he delays." Bái Zhēn's voice cut through the night air. "Your dreams—every Tiān descendant suffers them, yet yours are different. They will not cease... until you meet the dragon."
Tiān Jùn's smirk faded.
"It is time you open the spell book," Bái Zhēn continued. "There is much you must mend."
Tiān Jùn drew a slow breath; Bái Zhēn whispered.
"You... are Priest Tiān."
His eyes widened at the realization, though he hid his expression well.
"Tomorrow is Huǒyuán's Day," Bái Zhēn said. "Be ready. The dragon will be there." With that, he dissolved into the shadows.
Tiān Jùn clenched his palms, breath ragged. A snowflake landed softly on his hand, dissolving into warmth. His thoughts drifted back to the Sì Tiān Temple, when he was only five—the flowing river, the old woman with the playful baby girl. He remembered her laughter, remembered the way he'd accidentally scratched her wrist until it reddened.
That memory blurred into another—Mò Lián's face. His lips curved into a smile despite himself. He pressed his palm against his heated cheek, muttering, "No, no, no... someone might be watching."
A voice rose from below.
"My lord?"
Tiān Jùn startled, then laughed lightly. Yán Lǐng's silhouette appeared.
"Hey! The night's too early to sulk," Tiān Jùn called down, descending in a blur of movement to land beside his general.
Yán Lǐng studied him carefully, noting the strange brightness in his eyes. "My lord, you seem... unusually cheerful."
Tiān Jùn raised a brow. "What?" He quickly turned away, hand brushing his chin.
Yán Lǐng smirked knowingly, though he said nothing. Their gazes met, and both broke into a brief, silent laugh.
"Let's go drink," Tiān Jùn declared, draping an arm over his shoulder. "Just this once."
Without waiting, his body dissolved into air.
Yán Lǐng exhaled, shaking his head. "Jùn..." He followed, vanishing as well.
Beyond the palace walls, the city thrived with restless life. Brothels glittered with lanterns, hawkers called into the night, and music spilled from every street corner. The capital never slept, and for once, neither did the Crown Prince.
Disguised in illusion, Tiān Jùn and Yán Lǐng walked unnoticed among the crowd. The prince's laughter carried easily, his arm draped lazily over his general's shoulder.
"Cheers!" voices rang from every direction.
The snow stopped falling.
The street was filled; it was noisy from the distinct edge.
They entered their usual bar only to find it packed, the air too heavy with wine and sweat. The next was the same, then the next. At last, as they considered giving up, a woman's sharp voice caught their attention.
"Today is cursed! Not a coin to be made. My bar is empty, my girls are idle, and tomorrow will be no better!"
Tiān Jùn turned, amused by her lament, and strode forward. "Madam," he called gently.
The woman blinked, eyes widening as if Heaven had dropped an answer before her. "You mean me?"
"We'd like to visit...," he began.
But before he could finish, she grasped his wrist. "Oh, Heaven bless me! I knew fortune would arrive tonight!" she exclaimed, tugging him along.
Yán Lǐng trailed behind, lips quirking in silent amusement.
The woman led them into a brothel draped in crimson silk and perfumed with incense. "I am Madam Sài," she declared with a sweeping bow. "Enjoy yourselves."
Instantly, a swarm of women gathered around them, their laughter honey-sweet. Tiān Jùn's illusioned face was handsome, but Yán Lǐng's disguise was sharper, more dangerously alluring—enough to draw stares even from the hardened courtesans.
"Take it easy," Tiān Jùn muttered, waving off the clamor. "I only need wine. Strong wine."
Meanwhile, across the lantern-lit streets, laughter echoed as a group of palace maids wandered freely in disguise. Among them was Yù Xuān, reluctant yet curious, her beauty drawing admiring glances even under the humblest garments.
"See?" one maid whispered, tugging her arm. "It's more beautiful than in the palace. No duties, no watchful eyes."
Yù Xuān allowed herself a small smile, gazing at peach trees strung with glowing lanterns. "Truly... it is beautiful."
At the brothel, Tiān Jùn and Yán Lǐng were in separate rooms.
At the brothel, Tiān Jùn lounged back on silk cushions, the weight of wine thick in his veins. The room swam in crimson lantern light, shadows licking the walls as the courtesans leaned closer, their laughter a melody of temptation. Two perched upon his thighs, their fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest as they slid away his upper robe. He let them—half drunk, but his mind far away.
"My lord... another drink?" one purred, refilling his cup until it brimmed.
Before he could raise it, the girl on his lap pressed against him, nudging his hand. The wine spilled, a warm trail sliding down his bare chest.
"Forgive me..." she whispered breathlessly, her palm gliding over the spill, smoothing across muscle as if savoring fire beneath her touch.
Both women rose at once, movements slow, deliberate—like silk unraveling. The one who had poured the wine sank to her knees, crawling forward with the elegance of a predator circling prey. She tilted her head, her hair brushing against his thigh, and pressed her lips to his throat. Her tongue flicked over the sharp edge of his Adam's apple before tracing a burning path down, over the sculpted ridges of his chest, toward the taut lines of his abdomen.
Tiān Jùn's eyes darkened, narrowing as heat coiled within him. He fisted a hand in her hair, halting her descent—but the defiance in her eyes only burned hotter. His grip on her hair loosened just enough for her to move, but she didn't retreat. No—she leaned in, lips brushing against his lower abdomen, slow and deliberate, tasting the salt of his skin. Every kiss was a rebellion, every flick of her tongue a dangerous game she had no right to play.
The courtesan behind him slid her hands lower, tracing the sharp cut of his waist, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, "My lord, surrender... let us please you."
His jaw clenched. Her voice was Mò Lián's in his ears and not hers—the timbre twisting in his mind until it echoed with Mò Lián's laugh.
"Mò Lián..." The name left him again, ragged, aching.
The women froze, confused—but he no longer saw them. His illusion cracked, light bleeding at the edges of his face, shadows writhing as though the room itself bent around his power. His chest burned, heat rolling in waves, the air shimmering.
Still, the first courtesan pressed on, hunger mingling with fear. She kissed his navel again, her lips soft but trembling, lifting her gaze with wide, pleading eyes. It was no longer seduction—it was surrender. She wanted him to break her.
His fingers tightened in her hair, dragging her head back. Her breath hitched, her lips parted in a gasp, and for a moment their faces hovered inches apart. His eyes glowed faintly, molten, his chest heaving with the war inside him.
The heat surged, uncontrollable. Her chin blistered beneath his touch. She screamed.
From the next chamber, Yán Lǐng had been watching a choreographed dance, untouched by the courtesans' charms. Bored, he stirred—then froze at a sudden scream.
The sound tore through the brothel like a blade. Music stopped. Laughter died. Outside the chamber, Yán Lǐng's eyes flew open. In the next heartbeat, the door splintered under his fist, crashing inward with thunder.
Madam Sài shrieked from below, rushing toward the stairs, skirts flying.
Inside, the women scattered in terror. The courtesan on the ground crawled back, clutching her burned chin, crying out—"Help! An immortal!
In the woman's face, he saw Mò Lián.
Tiān Jùn followed, his gaze fixed, whispering her name again and again. "Mò Lián... Mò Lián...". She scrambled back, terrified, her eyes wide with the horror of the immortal before her.
"Help! Help, an immortal!" she shrieked, staggering out of the chamber. The other women dragged her away, shielding themselves from the scorching air that poured from the room.
The brothel erupted in panic.
Yán Lǐng stood in the doorway, his face grim. "Thank the heavens you didn't unleash it all," he muttered, stepping inside.
Tiān Jùn's body sagged, his power receding as exhaustion tempered the fire within. Slowly, he straightened, drawing a long, steadying breath. He reached for his robes, casting them across his shoulders as he strode out. Yán Lǐng followed in silence.
Descending the stairs, the room hushed. Patrons scattered in fear, yet their eyes could not look away. The two men glowed faintly, luminous as spirits stepping out of legend.
Yán Lǐng tossed a small sack of coins onto the ground. It hit the floor with a heavy thud. At once, the crowd bowed low, none daring to raise their gaze. They knew—whoever these men were, they were no ordinary mortals.
They moved into the street.
Tiān Jùn's brow furrowed. His sleeve reeked of burnt flesh. "Damn it..." he muttered, irritated, noticing the stares that pierced him from all sides.
"My lord," Yán Lǐng whispered carefully, "you are... half naked."
He didn't finish. The prince's dark gaze silenced him. Tiān Jùn's body no longer radiated heat, yet the weight of his presence pressed on all who looked his way.
"I will return," he said at last, his voice low, and vanished into the night.
The streets bustled with voices and footsteps, but Yán Lǐng was easy to notice in the crowd—tall, broad-shouldered, and impossibly composed. He wove through the throng until the sound of a commotion caught his ear. A knot of people had gathered ahead.
Before he reached them, the scene unfolded: a drunk, staggering man had seized a young woman by the wrist. She had only stopped beneath a vendor's shade to buy candy, but now she was trapped by his foul grip.
"Spend the night with me," he sneered, his breath heavy with wine. "I'll give you what you can't afford. Money—ha ha ha!" His laughter cut through the air, drawing attention.
The woman didn't answer. She only struggled, her eyes darting, trying to wrench free.
"What?" He yanked her closer, his voice dropping into a growl. "You think I'll pay you cheap? I could buy this stall and ten more."
Her gaze flicked down—he had a sword strapped to his side. In one swift movement, she pulled it free, staggering under its weight. The blade wavered in her hands, raised not in skill but in desperation.
The crowd gasped. "Hey—!" voices cried out.
In that instant, Yán Lǐng stepped forward. His hand struck like lightning, disarming the drunkard with practiced ease and knocking him back. The heavy scabbard slipped from the man's belt—straight into the woman's grip.
But before she could raise it, a hand appeared, steady and sure, sliding the blade smoothly back into its sheath. Her breath caught. She lifted her gaze—only to meet his.
Their eyes locked.
"Yù Xuān..." His voice broke, the name trembling from his lips as his heart raced.
She froze. It had been so long since she'd dared to look at him directly. Their faces lingered close, the world around them fading to nothing but that moment.
The drunkard stumbled away, forgotten, swallowed by the crowd. The onlookers began to disperse, murmuring among themselves. Yet some lingered—maids who had been passing by.
When they recognized Yù Xuān, their mistress's maid, their eyes went wide. One nearly screamed, but the others silenced her with their palms, dragging her into the shadow of a nearby vendor stall, where they continued to watch, breathless.
Still, Yù Xuān could not pull her eyes from him. This was the first time she had ever seen Yán Lǐng look at her without restraint—without his guarded strength overshadowing everything else.
"My lord," she whispered, her gaze flickering to the sword in her hands.
From a distance, the prince's gaze caught on Yán Lǐng. His steps slowed as he drew nearer, his eyes narrowing when he saw the general standing with a woman. The sight made him pause, shadowed by a silence he could not yet name.
Yán Lǐng felt his presence before he saw him, but he did not move. He stood firm, his eyes lingering on the maiden before him. Yù Xuān's expression faltered—sadness brushed across her face like a fleeting cloud. She tried to look away, but her gaze wavered, caught between longing and restraint.
Gently, unexpectedly, Yán Lǐng smiled. The softness startled her. Her breath caught as though time itself had paused. Then he turned, finally meeting the prince's piercing stare.
Prince Tiān Jùn stepped closer, and in that moment, his eyes fell fully upon the maiden. Recognition struck like a blade. His jaw tightened.
"Why... is it her again?" His voice was low, edged with disbelief. He turned abruptly, striding away. Yán Lǐng, after one last look at Yù Xuān, followed close behind.
Above them, the heavens shifted. The night sky shimmered as though dusted with silver, and snow began to fall, delicate flakes descending in silence. Then the silence was shattered. A thunderous roar split the sky, and a radiant object streaked down from the heavens. Its brilliance tore across the night, yet it faltered before touching the mountains, vanishing into the clouds with a sound that shook the earth.
The crowd stirred, whispers rising. Behind them, Yù Xuān stood frozen, her eyes tracing the backs of the prince and the general as they disappeared into the snow.
"That was the Crown Prince... with the General," one maiden breathed, awe trembling in her voice.
The night deepened until dawn crept over the horizon. One by one, people returned to their homes, murmuring still of the omen in the sky. The palace maids, hearts racing with secrets too heavy to speak aloud, slipped back through their hidden passageways, carrying whispers of the night with them.