The cistern was dead silent. The only sounds were the drip... drip... drip of water and the harsh,
ragged sound of Ren Wei's breathing.
The adrenaline, the thrill, the power—it all vanished, leaving a cold, sick, hollow void.
He looked at his hands. They were splattered with blood. His order had done that. His
21st-century stomach, his "modern" conscience, rebelled. He stumbled to a dark corner and
retched, his body convulsing as he threw up his morning rice.
He was a murderer. An accomplice. A monster.
He was wiping his mouth, his entire body trembling, when he heard a soft, calm sound. Shing.
He looked over. Li Mei was calmly, methodically, wiping her small, black knife clean. Her face
was pale, her expression flat and focused. She was not shaking. She was not sick.
She was working.
She finished, sheathed the knife, and walked over to the bodies. She knelt, her hands patting
them down with a cold, practical efficiency.
"Mei..." Ren Wei's voice was a raw, broken croak. "We... we killed them. We murdered three
Inner Sect disciples."
Li Mei paused. She looked up at him, her dark, clear eyes unreadable. Her expression was not
one of pity. It was one of... confusion. As if he were the one not making sense.
"No, Ren Wei," she said, her voice a simple, clear monotone. "We survived. They came here to
kill us. To 'cleanse' us. They were the monsters. So... we... were the exterminators."
She stood up and walked over to him. She was so small, the blood on her robes making her
look like a broken, terrifying doll. She reached up, her hand still slightly grimy, and placed it on
his trembling cheek.
"This is the world, my love," she whispered, her voice softening with a cold, absolute certainty.
"It's not your soft-hearted home. That place is just a dream. This is real." She gestured to the
bodies. "Here, there is only us. There is only 'alive' or 'dead.' And I... I will always choose 'alive.'
For you."
He stared at her. She was right. His guilt, his morals... they were luxuries. They were
weaknesses that would have gotten them both killed. Her brutal, cold pragmatism... that was
strength.
The shaking in his limbs eased. The sickness in his stomach faded.
He put his own, blood-stained hand over hers. "You... you saved me," he whispered.
"I always will," she breathed.
"But now..." he said, his 'Head' clicking back on. The problem-solver. "We're in trouble. We can't
just leave three bodies."
"I know," she said. "I found this." She held up a small, silk pouch, and a tiny, dark-green vial.
"The leader's. Contribution points, stones... and 'Jade-Mist Toxin.' Spider venom."
Ren Wei's mind leapt. "They were going to plant it on us. To make it look like the spiders killed
us."
A slow, dark smile spread across Ren Wei's face. "Then... that's exactly what happened."
For the next hour, they worked. It was a grisly, meticulous art. Ren Wei was the director; Li Mei
was the artist.
"Drag him over there," he ordered. "Mei, your needles. Can you make it look like bites?"
She nodded. She was a master. She used her 'Silken Needles' to puncture their skin in tiny,
clustered patterns.
"The venom," he said. "On their lips. Their necks. Make it look like they were swarmed." "Yes, there are," he said, tapping his own head, then pointing at her. "Your 'Silken Threads.'
Make them crude. Messy. All over the bodies. Drape them from the ceiling. Make this place look
like a nest."
She smiled. A real, proud smile. He understood her art.
Her hands flew, shooting threads of Qi, creating a ghastly, perfect tapestry of fake cobwebs.
When they were done, the cistern was a horror show. A perfect, staged spider-pit.
They stood at the entrance, covered in filth and blood. Their work was done. Ren Wei looked at
Li Mei. She was looking at him, not with fawning adoration, but with... respect.
He was no longer just a 'treasure' to be protected. He was her accomplice.
He reached out, cupping her face with his bloody hands. He hated what she was. He hated
what he was becoming. And he had never felt so alive or so connected to another human being.
"I'm grateful," he whispered, his voice raw.
"I'm yours," she replied.
He kissed her. It wasn't sweet, or chaste, or manipulative. It was raw, desperate, and filthy. It
tasted like blood and survival. It was their first, real kiss.