"Even the quietest alliance begins with two people choosing not to walk away."
The Old Moon Garden was steeped in silence, lit by moonlight that pooled like liquid silver over ancient stone paths. Wind stirred the frost-dusted petals of forgotten blossoms. The night's chill crept into the corners, but Lan Xueyi didn't feel the cold.
Her heart was still.
Her mind was not.
He followed me. But why now? Why here?
Across from her, Su Lin stood with the calm of a man already ten steps ahead. He looked the same as always: robes neat, posture measured, his jade token clipped precisely at the hem. But there was something in his eyes—tension disguised as ease, interest masked as courtesy.
"You shouldn't have come here," she said flatly.
"Neither should you," he returned.
No accusations. No raised voices.
Just a shared understanding: They were both trespassing—on grounds far deeper than stone.
Lan Xueyi tucked the scroll pouch further into her robe, her movements smooth. Calculated. If Su Lin noticed, he said nothing. Instead, he stepped forward until they were both within the circle of the bridge's shadow.
"How long have you known something was wrong with Shen Li?" he asked.
She turned to face him directly. "Since he came back from the Bloodrift with that look in his eyes."
"Like he was carrying something no one else could see?"
"Like he finally saw too much."
They fell into silence again. A nearby lantern swayed in the wind, casting dancing light across Su Lin's features—sharp and angular, unreadable.
"You've been watching him too," she said.
"Always," he replied, then paused. "He's the Heir. I'm expected to keep him alive."
"But not protect him from the Sect itself."
A beat passed.
Su Lin didn't deny it.
Lan Xueyi's voice was quiet when she finally spoke again.
"I found records. Suppressed lineage documents. Someone erased Liansheng's name from the Heir logs, and then buried him beneath layers of rewritten history. And Shen Li—he's not just curious. He's chasing something."
"I know," Su Lin said. "He's been accessing ancient Beastmark cultivation notes. Flame ancestry scrolls that were supposed to be restricted."
Lan blinked. "You let him?"
"I monitored him. Letting him think he was being clever. But I'm not so sure he's wrong."
That gave her pause.
"Then why follow me?"
"Because I know you're not a fool, Lan Xueyi. You found something I missed." His eyes flicked to the scroll pouch. "I want to see it."
She considered him carefully.
If I show him, I give away my advantage.
If I don't, I lose the only ally who might act before it's too late.
"These scrolls are fragments. Most of them are fire-damaged. But the one thing they share is a name—Liansheng. And a phrase." She drew out a brittle slip and held it up. "'Truth fire awakens blood.'"
Su Lin's expression shifted—just a flicker, but enough.
"You've seen that phrase before," she said.
"It was inscribed on a broken flame mirror sealed in the Flamekeeper Vault. I thought it was poetic nonsense." He looked down. "I'm starting to think it was a warning."
They stood in silence, both drawing threads together—memories, questions, fragments.
Then Lan spoke.
"Do you think Shen Li knows what he is?"
Su Lin didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was low.
"I think he suspects. But he doesn't know the cost."
"And we do?"
"Not yet. But someone has to find out before the Elders decide to erase him like they did Liansheng."
She felt the weight of that name. Liansheng.
A ghost without a grave.
A warning wrapped in silence.
"So what are we now?" she asked. "Co-conspirators? Traitors?"
Su Lin gave a tired smile. "Investigators."
"Of what?"
"The truth."
Lan's eyes narrowed. "The Sect doesn't reward truth."
"No," he agreed. "But neither does it survive long without it."
Lan exhaled slowly, then stepped closer, her tone sharper.
"Then here are my terms, Su Lin. No surveillance. No reporting to Elder Kaiyuan. No misleading me for 'security purposes.' We work as equals, or not at all."
"Fine. Then here are mine: we don't warn Shen Li until we're sure. Not unless he's in direct danger."
"He already is."
"Then we move quickly."
Lan Xueyi nodded.
She unwrapped the last memory slip and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed, and in that brief contact, she felt it—
Not warmth.
Resolve. Cold and absolute.
He's not doing this for politics. He's doing it because he's already lost someone.
Maybe that was the only thing they had in common.
Together, they stood on the edge of the bridge, looking down into the shadowed water.
Their reflections shimmered in the moonlight—two figures bent toward the same flame, for now.
"Where do we start?" Lan asked.
Su Lin looked eastward, toward the Flamekeeper Vault.
"With the sealed records of the Beast-Blooded experiments. And with Elder Yun. She's the last one alive who was part of the Liansheng suppression."
Lan nodded once.
"Then we move before she does."