Rain washed the sect clean.
Water ran down tiled roofs and stone paths, carrying incense ash and dust into the drains. Lantern light blurred behind the falling sheets, turning the courtyards soft and indistinct. Servants hurried, robes darkened, sandals slapping against wet stone.
Zhou Wei moved with them, head lowered, breathing in the smell of rain and earth.
Mei Lin was still alive.
The knowledge sat steady in his chest. Not relief. Not triumph. Just certainty. Her emotions drifted faintly through his awareness, no longer spiking with raw panic. Fear was still there, but it had loosened its grip. In its place was something fragile and new.
Hope scared people more than fear ever did.
Zhou Wei kept his awareness narrow as he worked. He carried baskets. Cleared water channels. Replaced soaked lamps. Each task grounded him, kept the warmth inside him from stirring too eagerly.
It responded anyway.
Not sharply. Not hungrily. Just a low pulse, as if acknowledging a path being laid stone by stone.
He found Mei Lin after nightfall.
She was in the storeroom near the south wall, exactly where he had told her to go. The place smelled of old herbs and damp wood. A single oil lamp burned low on a crate, its flame wavering with every draft.
She sat on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them. When Zhou Wei stepped inside, she looked up sharply, fear flashing before recognition softened it.
"You came," she said.
Her voice was hoarse. She had been crying, though she had tried to hide it.
Zhou Wei closed the door behind him and leaned against it, careful to keep his distance. "I said I would stay nearby."
She nodded, eyes dropping. "I thought you might have changed your mind."
He did not answer that. Instead, he crouched and set a small bowl between them. Inside was plain rice and a few preserved vegetables.
"You should eat," he said. "You did not touch your dinner."
She stared at the bowl, then at him. "How do you know that?"
Zhou Wei paused.
He chose his words carefully. "Servants notice things."
It was not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Mei Lin hesitated, then reached for the bowl. Her hands trembled as she ate, movements small and precise, like someone afraid of making noise even when alone.
They sat in silence for a while.
Rain tapped against the roof. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang, marking the hour. Zhou Wei felt the sect settle into sleep, its surface calm again, its undercurrents restless as ever.
"I thought about leaving," Mei Lin said suddenly.
Zhou Wei looked at her.
"Running away," she clarified. "Just taking the coins and going. But I would not get far. And even if I did, I would still be the same person. Afraid. Hiding."
The warmth inside Zhou Wei stirred, slow and attentive.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Mei Lin laughed softly, a broken sound. "If I knew that, I would not be here."
Zhou Wei accepted that. He did not push. Desire Sense brushed against her gently, revealing confusion layered over exhaustion, fear tangled with curiosity. And beneath it all, a thin, stubborn thread of longing.
Not for pleasure. Not yet.
For choice.
"You do not have to decide anything tonight," Zhou Wei said. "Or tomorrow. Or the day after."
She studied him again, more carefully this time. "Why are you so patient?"
He considered lying. It would be easier.
Instead, he told her the truth he could afford to give.
"Because rushing only creates regret," he said. "And regret destroys more than it saves."
Mei Lin absorbed that in silence.
Outside, footsteps passed. A pair of night guards, laughing quietly. The sound made Mei Lin flinch. Zhou Wei noticed and shifted his posture without thinking, placing himself slightly between her and the door.
He did not touch her.
She noticed anyway.
Her breath caught, just for a second.
The warmth inside Zhou Wei pulsed, then settled, satisfied with restraint.
"Will he come for me again?" Mei Lin asked quietly.
"Yes," Zhou Wei replied without hesitation.
She closed her eyes. "Then why does this feel like the first time I can breathe?"
Zhou Wei did not answer immediately.
Because someone had finally offered her a door without pushing her through it. Because fear lost its sharpest edge when it was seen and named.
"Eat," he said instead. "We will deal with him when the time comes."
She nodded, finishing the last few bites slowly.
When she was done, Zhou Wei stood. "I will leave before the guards make another round."
Mei Lin looked up at him quickly. "You will come back?"
Zhou Wei met her gaze. He let her see the truth there. No promises of salvation. No false certainty.
"Yes," he said.
She relaxed, just a little.
As Zhou Wei slipped back into the rain, the sect remained unchanged to the eye. Bells. Walls. Clean robes drying in the night air.
But beneath it, a thread had been laid.
Thin. Fragile.
Unbroken.
And for the first time since the jade shattered in his hand, Zhou Wei felt the path ahead take shape not as a destination, but as a series of careful steps.
Taken only when chosen.