The Xiao Clan received a visitor three days later.
The man arrived in the late morning, riding a plain carriage with no clan insignia displayed. He was dressed modestly, neither ostentatious nor poor, and carried himself with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to moving between factions without belonging fully to any of them.
To the guards at the gate, he introduced himself simply.
"I'm here to see Steward Xiao," he said with a polite smile. "Regarding a trade matter."
There was nothing suspicious about that. Wu Tan City thrived on intermediaries—brokers who spoke softly, carried messages discreetly, and never claimed responsibility for outcomes.
The steward received him in a side hall.
They spoke for less than a quarter hour.
By the time the man left, no formal agreements had been signed, no names spoken aloud. Yet something intangible had shifted, like a weight subtly redistributed across a scale.
That afternoon, Xiao Yan was summoned.
He arrived promptly, bowing respectfully as the steward dismissed the servants.
"Yan'er," the older man said, studying him for a moment, "you've been spending time in the outer library."
"Yes," Xiao Yan replied. "I find it… grounding."
The steward nodded, accepting the answer.
"There's a man," he said slowly, "who often does business between clans. He mentioned you."
Xiao Yan's expression flickered—surprise, restrained curiosity.
"Me?"
"He said you were… reasonable," the steward continued. "That you didn't behave like a disgraced youth."
Xiao Yan lowered his gaze slightly.
"I don't see the benefit of dramatics."
The steward smiled faintly.
"That may be so. In any case, he asked whether you might be willing to meet him. Privately."
Xiao Yan hesitated.
Just long enough.
"If it's about trade," he said cautiously, "I don't have authority."
"He knows," the steward replied. "He said this isn't official business."
Silence settled.
Xiao Yan nodded slowly.
"I'll hear what he has to say."
They met that evening, not in the Xiao Clan, but in a small private room above the same teahouse Xiao Yan had visited days earlier.
The intermediary arrived first.
He was already seated when Xiao Yan entered, hands folded loosely, gaze calm and assessing.
"Xiao Yan," the man said, rising politely. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."
Xiao Yan returned the greeting with a shallow bow.
"I'm not sure why you wanted to see me," he said honestly.
The man smiled.
"That's precisely why."
They sat.
Tea was poured.
For a time, neither spoke.
The intermediary finally broke the silence.
"You don't seem resentful," he said.
Xiao Yan looked up, mildly surprised.
"Should I be?"
The man chuckled softly.
"Most people in your position would be."
Xiao Yan considered his words.
"Resentment doesn't improve one's circumstances," he said. "It just makes them harder to endure."
The intermediary studied him more closely now.
"Interesting," he murmured.
He leaned back slightly.
"I work with many clans," he continued. "When there's… overlap. Complications. Situations where no one wants open conflict."
Xiao Yan's fingers tightened faintly around his teacup.
"You're talking about marriage alliances."
The intermediary did not deny it.
"People assume those matters are emotional," he said. "They rarely are."
Xiao Yan nodded.
"They're about balance."
The intermediary smiled wider.
"So you understand."
Xiao Yan hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"If an arrangement becomes a burden," he said, "forcing it to continue only breeds resentment. On both sides."
"And if it ends poorly," the man added, "it creates enemies."
Xiao Yan met his gaze.
"So it shouldn't end poorly."
Silence followed.
The intermediary set his cup down.
"You'd be surprised how many people insist on making things dramatic," he said. "Pride, wounded feelings, the need to be seen as wronged."
"I don't need to be seen," Xiao Yan replied. "I need to be untroubled."
The words were simple.
They landed heavily.
The intermediary studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"I'll convey that," he said.
"To whom?" Xiao Yan asked.
The man smiled faintly.
"To people who value discretion."
That night, in a quiet compound far from Wu Tan City, a sealed letter arrived at the Nalan Clan's inner residence.
It bore no seal.
No signature.
Only a brief note written in careful, neutral script.
The Xiao side does not intend confrontation.
They seek resolution without spectacle.
No demands. No conditions stated.
Dignity preserved for all involved.
Nalan Yanran read the note in silence.
She sat alone in her room, candlelight flickering softly against the walls. Outside, the sounds of the compound had already quieted, the night settling into stillness.
She read the message again.
Then once more.
There was no accusation in it.
No plea.
No hint of grievance.
Her brows furrowed.
They're not angry, she realized. They're… letting go.
The realization unsettled her more than anger would have.
She had prepared herself for resentment, for confrontation, even for contempt. Those things could be rejected, argued against, or endured.
This?
This felt like a door being opened and left that way—quietly, patiently—inviting her to decide whether to walk through.
Yanran clenched her fists.
She did not know why, but she felt as though she were the one being evaluated.
Back in Wu Tan City, Xiao Yan stood by his window, watching the moon rise.
Yao Chen emerged quietly from the ring.
"You've made contact," the old man said.
Xiao Yan nodded.
"They reached out," he replied mildly. "I only answered."
Yao Chen studied him, then snorted.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said. "Marriage alliances aren't like cultivation disputes."
Xiao Yan smiled faintly.
"That's why I'm not treating it like one."
He turned back to the window.
Now the choice is hers, he thought. And choices bind people more tightly than obligations ever could.
The first direct thread had been laid.
Not pulled.
Not tightened.
Just placed—carefully, deliberately—where it could not be ignored.