Morning sunlight spilled across the cobbled courtyard in golden ribbons, brushing the damp petals of the plum trees. The scent of crushed pine root lingered in the air, earthy and clean, as Bai Ru stood alone beneath the old camphor tree, her sleeves rolled and hands submerged in a steaming bowl of tonic herbs. The clink of porcelain, the soft rustle of breeze through early spring leaves—these were the sounds that soothed her, but today, they rang hollow.
Last night's ritual had been a moment of rare purity. Perfect harmony. Their energies—Kai's, Yue's, Lin Su's, and her own—had merged like a single breath held between four souls. She should have felt clarity. She should have felt peace.
But instead, she felt watched.
The weight of unseen eyes pressed at her back, subtle but relentless, like pressure behind the temples before a storm.
---
The summons arrived midmorning, delivered not by a messenger, but by a white-robed runner bearing the gold-sealed invitation of the Imperial Healing Pavilion.
"To Bai Ru, Healer of the Broken Sky Envoy. The Pavilion requests your immediate presence. A personal audience with Grandmaster Zhou Mei."
Bai Ru turned the scroll over in her hands. It was heavy—silk-bound, perfumed with mint and old sage.
An honor. A calling. Or perhaps, a tether.
---
When she passed through the reflecting garden moments later, she saw them: Kai and Yue. The pair stood beneath the curved stone arch, heads inclined together, laughter soft as wind-chimes. Yue touched Kai's wrist lightly, her smile radiant. And Kai—he looked at ease. Truly at ease.
Bai's heart flickered.
She was proud. But she had wanted him to see her. To ask what troubled her.
He didn't.
From the colonnade, Lin Su's voice drifted over. "You look like someone who just got handed a blade and asked to carve their own name into stone."
Bai Ru turned. Lin Su approached with lazy grace, a fresh peach in her hand.
"It's a summons," Bai murmured.
Lin Su cocked her head. "Promotion?"
"Or separation."
Lin Su gave her a long look. "Everything in this court is a ladder. Even the ones disguised as altars."
---
Elsewhere, Yue faced her own reckoning. Elder Shan, a face from her past and a mouthpiece for the old sect hierarchies, bowed deeply before her.
"Your union with Kai Jin makes waves," he said, voice gravelly. "But remember—when men fear a woman's rise, they call it heresy, not evolution."
Yue's eyes didn't waver. "Let them call it what they will. I have no need for fragile praise."
But even after he vanished into the stone halls, the echo of his warning stayed behind like dust.
---
That evening, Lin Su burned her own invitation.
The Inkwell Pavilion had offered her a spy's title—covert work, untraceable gold, and whispers of political immunity. She stared at the sealed letter for three full minutes before feeding it to flame. The parchment caught instantly, ink flaring gold before vanishing into ash.
"No one owns me," she whispered to the fire. "Not even for amusement."
---
That night, the four of them gathered in Kai's private study. Outside, lanterns burned low, and moonlight turned the scroll shelves to silver.
Kai stood, scroll in hand. His eyes swept across them—Bai, Yue, Lin.
"They're trying to divide us," he said.
Bai nodded. "If I accept the Pavilion's offer, I'll be required to relocate. My duties would pull me away."
Yue folded her arms. "They've already warned me. My presence beside you weakens the court's image of balance."
Lin Su lounged on the low bench. "They tried to buy me off with secrets. As if I haven't already drowned in better ones."
Kai sighed. "I won't stop any of you. If you wish to walk your own path—"
Bai's voice cut in. "Would you grieve?"
He met her gaze. "Yes."
Lin Su sat up. "Then say that. Don't play noble martyr."
Kai looked at each of them, slower this time. "I want you with me. I want all of you. But not as chains. As fire. As wind."
Yue stepped forward. "Then let us stay. Not because you ask, but because we choose to."
A silence passed, long and full.
Bai Ru smiled. "For now."
Lin Su leaned back again, a smirk playing at her lips. "Until the next summons. Or the next scandal."
They laughed—tired, but real.
Kai exhaled. The World Eye flickered behind his vision, a quiet whisper in his mind:
*Even roots can grow through stone, if watered with trust.*
---
Far beyond the garden walls, a hand signed a hidden decree. A wax seal was pressed. And a plan was set in motion.
"Let them believe in unity," a voice muttered. "Then, when they are bound tightly together, strike where it hurts most."
In the dark, the petals stirred.