Sleep did not come easily that night.
Zhou Wei lay on his cot, staring at the low wooden beams above him. He listened as the sect settled into an uneasy quiet. The sounds were familiar—distant footsteps, a guard coughing, and the soft hiss of lanterns burning low.
What felt unfamiliar was how his mind refused to rest.
Mei Lin's presence lingered at the edges of his awareness, faint but persistent. Her fear had not disappeared; it had transformed. It was less sharp but more focused, tightly wound around a single question she did not yet know how to ask.
The warmth inside him reacted to that tension, slow and deliberate, like a hand testing the strength of a thread.
Zhou Wei closed his eyes and forced it down.
"No," he whispered.
Morning arrived gray and heavy. The clouds hung low, making the air feel close and oppressive. Zhou Wei got up, dressed, and resumed his duties as if nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
He felt it when he passed the training grounds. He sensed it when he bowed before senior disciples and kept his head down as Elder Zhang walked by without acknowledging him.
The elder was patient now.
That frightened Zhou Wei more than any open aggression.
Mei Lin avoided him all morning. Not on purpose, but carefully. Zhou Wei understood the difference. Each time their paths nearly crossed, she adjusted her route at the last moment, fear spiking briefly before settling again.
She was protecting both of them.
By afternoon, Zhou Wei knew he couldn't let this go unspoken.
He found her near the outer laundry yard, folding robes under a half-roofed awning. Steam rose from the basins, carrying the scent of soap and wet cloth. Other servants worked nearby, heads down and hands busy.
Zhou Wei approached slowly, stopping just within her view.
Mei Lin stiffened, then relaxed when she recognized him. She did not look up.
"You should not be here," she said quietly.
"Neither should you," Zhou Wei replied. "But here we are."
Her hands paused on a robe, the cloth trembling slightly.
"He is watching," she said.
"Yes."
"That means we should stop this," she said. "Whatever this is."
Zhou Wei studied her for a moment. Desire Sense brushed against her gently, revealing a conflict layered over exhaustion. Fear still dominated, but beneath it, there was something else—expectation.
"That is your decision to make," he said.
She finally looked up at him. Her eyes were tired, not frightened as before. Tired like someone who had been holding herself together for too long.
"You keep saying that," she replied. "Choice. Decision. As if I am not already cornered."
Zhou Wei did not deny it. "You are cornered. That does not mean your choices are gone."
She laughed softly. "It feels like you are standing on one side of a river, telling me to swim while pretending you are not part of the crossing."
Zhou Wei felt warmth stir at her words. It was not hunger; it was recognition.
He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "If you cross because I pull you, it means nothing. To you or to me."
Her breath caught.
"And if I cross on my own?" she asked.
"Then it means everything."
Silence stretched between them. The steam hissed. Water sloshed in basins. No one nearby was listening.
Mei Lin looked down at her hands. They were red and raw from work, from scrubbing, from trying to wash something that would not come clean.
"What if I regret it?" she asked. "Whatever I choose."
Zhou Wei answered without hesitation. "Then you will regret something you chose, not something taken from you."
She swallowed hard.
"You draw lines so carefully," she said. "Do you ever step over them yourself?"
Zhou Wei met her gaze fully. "Every day."
The warmth inside him pulsed once, then went still.
Mei Lin closed her eyes. When she opened them again, something had shifted. Not certainty, but resolve.
"Tonight," she said. "After the last bell."
Zhou Wei felt her words settle into him, heavy and dangerous.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"No," she said honestly. "But I want to be."
He nodded once. "Then remember. You can still walk away."
She gave a small, crooked smile. "You really want me to believe that."
"I need you to."
The last bell rang as the sun dipped behind the clouds, its sound deep and final.
They parted without another word.
Zhou Wei finished his duties with steady hands, though his pulse quickened with each passing moment. When darkness fell and lanterns lit, he returned to his room and waited.
The warmth inside him coiled tight, restrained by will alone.
A soft knock sounded at his door.
Zhou Wei did not move immediately. He stood there, listening, giving the moment space to breathe.
Another knock came, firmer this time.
He opened the door.
Mei Lin stood in the corridor, lantern light catching in her eyes. She had changed her robe. It was nothing ornate, just clean.
"I am here," she said.
Zhou Wei stepped aside, leaving the doorway open behind her.
She crossed the threshold on her own.
And that was the line.