Meiyin stirred.
Pain throbbed beneath her ribs, sharp and insistent, but distant, as though it belonged to someone else. She blinked, and the canopy of trees dissolved into pale linen and soft candlelight.
She was in a room.
The bed beneath her smelled faintly of herbs and clean smoke. Wooden beams curved overhead, carved with curling lotus patterns. A breeze stirred the silk curtains, bringing with it the scent of plum blossoms and pine.
Then the pain came crashing back.
She gasped, clutching her side. Her fingers brushed a bandage, freshly wrapped and sticky with medicine.
She sat up slowly.
The room around her was unfamiliar: a quiet chamber with polished wooden floors, carved lanterns glowing gently in the corners, and silk drapes billowing like clouds. A single window let in sunlight, filtered through a paper screen painted with flowering lotuses.
She wasn't alone.
A girl stood near the door, no older than sixteen, her posture poised and deferential. She wore soft green robes embroidered with a silver lotus emblem over the breast. Her hair was tied in twin buns, and her expression was serene.
"You're awake," the girl said, bowing slightly. "Please don't move too quickly. The wound on your side has only just begun to mend."
Meiyin blinked, her voice raw. "Where… where am I?"
"The Lotus Sect," the girl replied. "You were brought here two days ago. The physicians said you were lucky. If the blade had gone any deeper…"
Meiyin looked down at her bandaged side, swallowing hard. Flashes of memory returned; the fight, the masked assassins, Jihan bleeding and weak, her scream as steel pierced her body.
"Jihan," she said quickly. "Where is he? Is he—?"
The girl's expression didn't change, but her tone did.
"You must not refer to him that way."
Meiyin frowned. "What do you mean? That's his name, isn't it?"
The girl bowed again, more deeply this time.
"Within the Lotus Sect, he is addressed as Young Master Xuan."
Meiyin stared at her. The words didn't register at first. "Young… Master?"
"Yes. Young Master Xuan Jihan is the heir to the Lotus Sect; the only son of our sect leader."
Her mind reeled. Heir? Sect leader? "You're saying he's your… your prince?"
The girl gave a small nod. "You could say that. But more than that, he is the future of our order. His identity is of utmost importance. Few beyond the inner circle knew where he was until recently."
Meiyin's mouth felt dry. She leaned back against the cushions, stunned.
Jihan… no. Xuan Jihan… is the Young Master?
She thought of the feverish boy in the grove, clutching at life. The one who'd murmured about instinct and memory, who had groaned in pain and begged her to live.
He hadn't even told her his real name.
Before she could voice the storm in her chest, the girl stepped forward with a warm towel and a small basin of scented water.
"My name is Lin Yue. I've been assigned as your personal attendant while you recover. If you'll allow me, I'll assist with your bath and help you change into fresh robes. The elders have summoned you once you're strong enough."
Meiyin hesitated. She wasn't used to being waited on. But her body was sore, her thoughts tangled. She gave a slow nod.
Lin Yue moved with quiet precision. She brought out silken robes dyed a soft lavender shade, with pale silver lotus patterns across the sleeves. The cloth shimmered faintly with protective runes, robes meant not just for beauty but for function.
Meiyin, for her part, endured the bath in silence. The warm water eased some of the ache in her limbs and washed away the blood and dirt that covered her body. Lin Yue carefully combed through her long, curling hair. Damp strands clung to her pale skin like ink against parchment.
When she glanced in the polished bronze mirror, she hardly recognized herself.
Her silver eyes seemed brighter somehow,sharper. Her skin, always pale, now looked almost translucent. And her hair, long and ink-dark, curled in thick, unruly waves down her back.
Lin Yue paused behind her. "Forgive me, miss, but… you have a very rare appearance."
Meiyin turned. "What do you mean?"
"Silver eyes are uncommon. Among cultivators, they're sometimes said to mark those touched by fate." Lin Yue's voice lowered slightly. "It's rare among mortals. Even more rare when combined with such spiritual clarity."
Meiyin frowned. "I'm not… I'm not a cultivator."
"No," Lin Yue agreed gently. "But perhaps you're meant to be."
They finished dressing her in silence. Lin Yue helped her into soft slippers and guided her to the door, where two guards waited.Both robed in pristine white with gold-trimmed lotus insignias, swords at their waists.
"This way, miss," one of them said, bowing.
The corridors of the Lotus Sect were unlike anything Meiyin had ever seen. Carved walkways arched over koi-filled ponds. Cherry blossoms floated on the breeze. Disciples in pale robes practiced forms in the courtyards, movements so graceful they looked like dancers.
It was a world of peace and power. And Meiyin felt completely out of place in it.
At last, they reached a wide set of doors carved with lotus petals and ancient script. One of the guards knocked once.
"Enter."
Meiyin stepped into a high-ceilinged hall. Lanterns hung from the rafters like floating stars. A circular table sat in the center, surrounded by seven elders in robes of varying colors.Each one old, regal, and radiating silent power.
Behind them, raised on a low dais, stood Xuan Jihan.
He was dressed in layered black robes embroidered with silver. His hair was tied back in a high knot, a silver crown gleaming at the base of his skull. He looked nothing like the boy she'd carried through the forest.
He looked… powerful. Untouchable. Cold.
Meiyin's breath caught. She dropped into a shaky bow.
As she knelt, a ripple passed through the room.
The elders exchanged brief glances, the kind that said more than words. Even Jihan's gaze lingered for a moment too long.
Pale as snow, with long curling black hair that spilled down her back and shimmering silver eyes that caught the lamplight like mirrors. She looked like a painting brought to life. Ethereal. Unnatural.
"Her eyes," the silver-haired elder murmured under his breath, not quite intending to be heard.
"She looks like…" one of the others began, then fell silent.
"Rise," the first elder said, his voice smooth but now tinged with curiosity.
Meiyin straightened slowly. Her ribs still throbbed.
"Your name is Meiyin," another elder said. She was a tall, severe-looking woman with a silver pin in her hair. "You hail from Yunping Village."
Meiyin nodded. "Yes, Elder."
"We've reviewed the reports," the woman continued. "The circumstances surrounding your arrival were… unusual. You found the Young Master wounded in the mountains. And you protected him."
Meiyin's fingers curled at her side. "He was injured. I couldn't leave him there."
The third elder, an old man with a long beard and hooded eyes, leaned forward. "You cared for him nearly a full day. You bled for him. Why?"
She opened her mouth, then stopped. She didn't know what to say.
Because I couldn't let him die? Because something told me I had to save him? Because if he died too, I would have lost my mind?
"I don't know," she whispered. "I just… I had to."
There was a long silence. Then the fourth elder spoke,a woman with ink-dark eyes and a voice like wind through reeds.
"You are seventeen."
"Yes, Elder."
"You have no cultivation experience. No family of note. No clan, no backing. You are a leaf in the river."
Meiyin's cheeks burned, but she stayed silent.
"And yet," the elder went on, "you possess a powerful spiritual root. Your presence stirred the protective wards on the outer boundary. The Young Master has awakened, and he remembers you."
Meiyin looked up sharply.
The woman gave her a long, unreadable look. "If it were up to me, I would send you back to your village and erase your memory. But the decision is not mine alone."
Another elder leaned forward. "We have deliberated. And it is our decision that you remain within the Lotus Sect under observation. You will be offered a trial period as a provisional disciple."
Meiyin's heart skipped. "A disciple?"
"If you survive the initiation and prove worthy, you may earn a permanent place."
"And if I fail?"
The silver-haired elder smiled faintly. "Then you will be sent away. Or worse."
She felt her pulse race. She had no family now. No home. But this… this wasn't something she could accept so easily. The air in the room felt heavy, pressing against her chest.
She looked up and met Xuan Jihan's eyes.
His gaze was distant. Cool. Nothing like the way he had looked at her in the forest, when he was half-conscious and bleeding, when his voice had cracked with pain and softness.
Back then, there had been warmth. A flicker of something like trust.
Now… there was nothing. He wasn't the boy she'd saved. He was a stranger. A powerful, unreachable one.
Something inside her twisted.
"I…"
All four elders turned to her.
"I understand the offer," she said slowly, voice shaking slightly, "but I can't give an answer just yet. I—I'd like time to consider."
Silence.
Even the guards stiffened.
One of the elders raised an eyebrow. "You dare to ask for time?"
Meiyin lowered her gaze, then forced herself to look up again. Her silver eyes were steady. "Yes, Elder. This isn't a decision I can make lightly."
A tense pause. Then the woman with the ink-dark eyes spoke again. "Very well. You have until tomorrow morning. At dawn, we will summon you again. If you decline, you will be escorted from the sect."
"I understand."
"And one more thing," she added. "You must no longer address the Young Master by name. He is Xuan Jihan, heir of the Lotus Sect. In public or private, that respect must be maintained."
Meiyin's chest twisted. "Even if I…"
"Even so," she said sternly. "You saved his life. That alone will not be forgotten."
Meiyin nodded.
"You are dismissed."
Meiyin bowed low, then turned and walked out of the hall with as much dignity as she could gather. But her thoughts churned like stormy water.
Lin Yue led her back through the halls. The world seemed to shimmer with strange beauty and subtle danger.One that she was a stranger to.
She had no home left.
But for the first time since the massacre, she had a direction.
A path.
And maybe,
just maybe,
a purpose.