The door stayed unbarred.
Zhou Wei noticed that first.
It was a small thing, almost nothing. A habit from a night spent listening for footsteps. He stood there for a moment after Mei Lin's hand settled against his chest, aware of the thin strip of corridor light slipping in through the gap.
If she wanted to leave, she still could.
That mattered more than anything else.
The warmth inside him pressed outward, heavy and insistent, like breath held too long. He did not let it move. Not yet. He forced his body to stay still and his hands to remain at his sides, even as every instinct urged him forward.
Mei Lin seemed to sense the restraint.
Her palm stayed where it was, not sliding and not pressing harder. Just resting there, as if she needed proof that he was solid. Real.
"You're shaking," she said quietly.
Zhou Wei exhaled through his nose. "So are you."
She glanced down at her hand and then back up at his face. There was no panic in her eyes now. No frantic edge. What he felt from her was slower. Heavier. Fear remained, but it no longer ruled.
She withdrew her hand.
The warmth inside him recoiled slightly, displeased.
Zhou Wei ignored it.
Mei Lin turned away and moved toward the window instead. Dawn had strengthened, pale light stretching across the floor in uneven bands. She stood there with her back to him, arms folded loosely, and shoulders tense.
"I thought it would feel different," she said.
"How?" Zhou Wei asked.
"Clearer," she replied. "Like a door opening or closing. Instead, it feels like standing in the middle of a room and not knowing which way to face."
Zhou Wei understood that too well.
"Choice rarely announces itself," he said. "It usually feels like this."
She nodded slowly.
Outside, the sect stirred. The distant sound of voices drifted through stone and wood. A bell rang once, marking the early hour. Life continued, indifferent to what was happening in this small room.
Mei Lin turned back toward him.
"If I stay here," she said, "and do nothing else, he will notice eventually."
"Yes," Zhou Wei said.
"And if I leave," she continued, "he will come for me sooner."
"Yes."
Her jaw tightened. "Then the only way this changes is if I change first."
Zhou Wei did not respond immediately. He watched her closely, not with hunger but with attention. Desire Sense brushed against her, careful now, almost respectful. He felt her weighing fear against resolve, habit against defiance.
This was not impulse.
This was decision forming under pressure.
"You don't need to prove anything," he said.
"I'm not trying to," she replied. "I just don't want to be helpless anymore."
The words settled heavily between them.
Zhou Wei crossed the room slowly, stopping a short distance away. He made sure she saw him stop.
"If you step forward again," he said, "it cannot be because you think I owe you protection."
"I know," she said.
"And it cannot be because you think this will erase what he has done."
"I know."
"And it cannot be because you think it will make you strong overnight."
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. "I know."
He studied her face, searching for cracks. For doubt sharp enough to halt what was coming.
There was doubt.
But there was also intent.
"Then tell me why," Zhou Wei said.
Mei Lin took a breath. Then another. When she spoke, her voice was steady, though quiet.
"Because when I am near you," she said, "I feel seen. Not watched. Not judged. Just seen. And because if I have to give something of myself, I want it to be to someone who treats it like it matters."
The warmth inside Zhou Wei surged hard at that, a deep, visceral pull that made his vision blur for a split second. He clenched his hands into fists, nails biting into skin, grounding himself in the small sting of pain.
"That is not a light thing to give," he said.
"I know," she replied.
She stepped closer.
Not quickly. Not slowly either. Just one measured step, closing the distance she had left open before. Zhou Wei stayed where he was, heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.
She lifted her hand again, hesitating only briefly before placing it against his chest, higher this time. Over his heart.
It was warm. Real.
Zhou Wei's breath hitched despite himself.
"This is still my choice," she said, not as a question.
"Yes," he answered.
"And you will stop if I say so."
"Yes."
Her fingers tightened slightly, as if testing that promise.
"Then don't tell me to hurry," she said. "And don't tell me to be brave."
"I won't," Zhou Wei said.
They stood like that for a long moment, the air between them thick with things unsaid. The warmth inside him pressed harder, no longer patient. He felt it brush against his senses, against his awareness of her, tasting the edges of her intent.
He held it back.
Mei Lin's breathing grew uneven. She shifted her weight, then drew her hand away again, rubbing her palm against her robe as if to steady herself.
"This is terrifying," she admitted softly.
"Yes."
"And you're still letting me do it."
Zhou Wei met her gaze. "Because fear does not cancel choice."
She nodded once.
Slowly, she reached up and untied the cord at her collar. The fabric loosened slightly, revealing the pale line of her throat. The gesture was careful and deliberate, stripped of any attempt at seduction.
Zhou Wei did not move.
The warmth inside him roared.
"Stop me if this is wrong," Mei Lin said.
Zhou Wei stepped forward then, finally closing the remaining distance. He raised his hand, fingers hovering just short of touching her skin.
"Look at me," he said.
She did.
Her eyes were clear. Afraid, yes. But present.
He let his fingers brush her wrist lightly, barely more than a test. She did not flinch.
The warmth surged in response, thick and hungry, flooding his awareness with the promise of power and consequence tangled together.
Zhou Wei swallowed.
"This is as far as we go today," he said.
Mei Lin blinked, startled. "What?"
"You have chosen," he continued, voice steady despite the strain it took. "That choice is real. It does not vanish because we pause."
Her hand curled into his wrist instinctively, grip tightening. "But I thought."
"I know what you thought," Zhou Wei said. "And you will still have it. Just not all at once."
Confusion flickered across her face, followed by something else. Relief. Frustration. Gratitude.
All at once.
"You're doing this on purpose," she said.
"Yes," Zhou Wei replied. "Because the first fall matters."
The warmth inside him throbbed, displeased but restrained. He felt its hunger keenly now, felt how close it was to spilling over. It would be easy to give in. Easy to let momentum carry them forward.
He did not.
Mei Lin searched his face, then slowly loosened her grip. She let her hand fall back to her side.
"So this is what it feels like," she said quietly. "To stop when I could keep going."
Zhou Wei nodded. "Remember it."
She took a step back, then another, putting space between them once more. Her breathing was still uneven, but her eyes were steady again.
"I will stay," she said. "If that's all right."
"Yes," Zhou Wei said. "You can sleep here again."
She hesitated, then nodded, moving toward the wall where she had rested before. As she sat down, she paused and looked up at him.
"Tomorrow," she said.
Zhou Wei felt the warmth coil tight at the word.
"Yes," he said.
He returned to his place near the door, sitting with his back against the wood, senses stretched outward. Outside, the sect continued its quiet routines, unaware of the tension building in this small room.
Nothing had been taken.
Nothing had been finished.
But the line had been crossed all the same.
And the path was no longer waiting.