By evening, the mist had disappeared.
The Clear Stream Sect lay bare under a pale sky, its stone and tile clean and nearly beautiful in the fading light. Shouts and the sound of clashing wood echoed from the training fields. Incense burned again, lighter this time, meant to calm rather than overwhelm.
Zhou Wei still sensed the tension.
It lingered just beneath the surface, like a held breath.
Elder Zhang had not called for Mei Lin again. That alone felt wrong. His irritation simmered, sharp and restless, scraping against Zhou Wei's awareness whenever they were close. The elder was watching now, not openly, but carefully.
Zhou Wei adjusted his routine.
He spoke less, moved more slowly, and allowed small mistakes to happen just often enough to appear harmless. A spilled bucket, a late delivery, nothing worth remembering.
Inside, he felt tight and quiet.
The warmth in his abdomen reacted to danger instinctively, curling inward when Zhang passed by, flattening until it felt like nothing more than old pain from injuries. Zhou Wei focused on breathing, on the texture of the stone beneath his fingers, on the ordinary discomforts of being a servant.
Control kept him alive.
Mei Lin did not seek him out that day.
That worried him more than if she had.
When night came, Zhou Wei sensed her emotions spike sharply, fear flaring bright. The feeling cut through his focus.
He moved before he finished thinking.
The eastern corridors were quiet, and the lanterns shone dimly. Zhou Wei kept to the edges, slipping through shadows shaped by years of practice. He followed the pull carefully, not rushing, not announcing himself.
He found Mei Lin near the herb sheds.
She stood stiffly beside the low wall, hands clenched in her sleeves, eyes fixed on nothing. Her breath came fast and shallow. When she noticed him, she almost buckled with relief.
"He knows," she whispered.
Zhou Wei caught her elbow to steady her. The contact was brief and necessary. He released her immediately.
"What happened?" he asked.
"He asked why I was avoiding the inner quarters," she said. "Why I no longer came when summoned. He smiled the entire time."
Zhou Wei felt that smile echo in his gut.
"Did you answer?"
"I said I was afraid of making mistakes," she said. "That I didn't want to shame him."
Her voice shook. "He told me fear was a sign of guilt."
Zhou Wei exhaled slowly. "Did he dismiss you?"
"Yes, for now."
That was worse.
Zhou Wei glanced around. The herb sheds stood dark and empty. No guards, no lanterns. The air smelled of crushed leaves and damp soil.
"Come," he said quietly. "Not here."
They slipped into the storeroom together. Zhou Wei closed the door behind them. Darkness wrapped around them, broken only by the small oil lamp Mei Lin had left burning earlier. Its light flickered, casting shaky shadows on the walls.
Mei Lin pressed her back against a crate, hands trembling.
"He looked at me differently," she said. "Like I was something already decided."
Zhou Wei crouched a short distance away, careful not to crowd her.
"He is trying to scare you into compliance," he said. "Fear makes people careless."
Her eyes lifted to his. "Is that what this is doing to you?"
Zhou Wei paused.
"Yes," he said honestly. "Which is why I will not act on it."
The warmth inside him pulsed, then settled.
Silence stretched. Outside, a bell rang softly, marking the late hour. Footsteps passed in the distance.
Mei Lin's breathing slowed gradually.
"I thought," she said hesitantly, "that if I stayed close to you, he would hesitate."
"He might," Zhou Wei replied. "Or he might decide to act quicker."
Her face paled. "Then what do I do?"
Zhou Wei met her gaze, steady and unwavering.
"You keep choosing," he said. "Each step, each refusal, each moment you don't give in just to survive."
She swallowed. "And if I can't?"
"Then you choose something else," he said. "But it will still be your choice."
The lamp flickered.
For a brief moment, fear was not the strongest thing between them. Something warmer surfaced, fragile and dangerous. Zhou Wei felt it clearly and pulled back immediately, shifting his weight away.
Mei Lin noticed.
Her breath caught. "You really won't," she said softly.
"No," Zhou Wei replied. "Not like that."
Understanding settled over her slowly. Not disappointment, not relief.
Trust.
A sharp knock struck the storeroom door.
Both of them froze.
"Who is in there?" a man's voice called. A guard. Close. Too close.
Zhou Wei moved without thinking. He turned the lamp's wick down, plunging the room into near darkness. He stepped closer to the door, placing himself between it and Mei Lin.
"Supplies," he called back, keeping his voice dull and unremarkable. "Sent to check inventory."
Silence.
Zhou Wei felt the guard's suspicion brush against him, thin and probing. He held still, forcing the warmth inside him to flatten and quiet.
A moment passed.
Then footsteps retreated.
Zhou Wei did not move until they were gone.
In the darkness, Mei Lin's breath trembled out.
"They almost found us," she whispered.
"Yes," Zhou Wei said. "Which means we cannot linger like this."
He turned the lamp back up slightly, just enough to see her face.
"This is getting dangerous," she said.
"Yes."
She searched his expression. "Then why does it feel like the only safe place is here?"
Zhou Wei did not answer.
Because safety was an illusion. Because danger was already choosing for her.
He opened the door and listened. The corridor was empty again.
"Go," he said gently. "Before they circle back."
Mei Lin hesitated, then nodded. She slipped past him and disappeared into the night.
Zhou Wei stayed behind a moment longer, feeling Elder Zhang's attention tighten somewhere in the sect like a closing fist.
They had come close.
Too close.
And now, waiting was no longer passive.
Someone was about to act.