By morning, the snow had stopped, leaving Azure Cloud Sect draped in a thin veil of frost. The mountain air was crisp, the kind that carried sound far, and today it carried the toll of the morning bell — summoning the inner court to the Plum Pavilion.
Lan Xiyue stood before the wide mirror in his private chamber, fastening his robes. The deep indigo silk shimmered faintly with embroidery of cloud and crane, the mark of his station as the Sect Master's heir. Behind him, Ruo Han lingered in the corner, now dressed in a plain gray disciple's robe Lan Xiyue had given him. It was one size too large, the sleeves falling over his hands, but it masked him well.
"The council will ask questions about last night," Lan Xiyue said, fastening his sword belt. "You will not be mentioned. You will not speak unless I tell you to."
Ruo Han's lips curved faintly.
"And if they sense me?"
"They won't." Lan Xiyue turned, his cedar-storm scent wrapping subtly through the air. "Stay close enough that my aura covers yours."
The walk to the pavilion was lined with frozen plum trees, their branches stark against the pale sky. Disciples bowed as they passed, casting curious glances at the "new recruit" shadowing the Sect Master's son. Ruo Han kept his head down, but each step into the heart of the sect felt like threading deeper into enemy territory.
The Plum Pavilion itself was a wide, open hall with carved beams and red pillars, its central dais occupied by the Sect Master and six elders. Their gazes were as sharp as drawn blades.
The meeting began with formal reports — border patrol movements, spiritual herb stores, the progress of winter training. But it didn't take long before Elder Qian's eyes slid toward Lan Xiyue.
"I hear," the elder began, his voice oily, "there was an intrusion on Jade Bridge last night."
"There was," Lan Xiyue replied evenly. "I dealt with it."
"Alone?"
"It was not worth troubling the guard," he said, the faintest edge to his tone.
Elder Qian's gaze lingered, then drifted toward Ruo Han, who stood silently behind Lan Xiyue's shoulder.
"And this? A new disciple? I don't recall approving his placement."
Lan Xiyue's voice turned flat.
"He is under my personal tutelage. His duties are mine to assign."
It was bold — almost too bold — but it left no opening for further questions without challenging Lan Xiyue directly in front of the Sect Master. Still, Ruo Han could feel the weight of suspicion pressing on him like a second skin.
The council moved on, but when the meeting adjourned, Lan Xiyue didn't lead Ruo Han back to the secluded courtyard. Instead, he took him up a narrow path to the upper terraces, where the air thinned and the world stretched out in layers of mist-wrapped mountains.
They stopped beneath a lone plum tree whose blossoms had somehow survived the frost.
"You didn't breathe a word," Lan Xiyue said, studying him.
"I told you I could follow orders," Ruo Han replied, though his pulse was still fast from being in the same room as so many high-ranked alphas.
Lan Xiyue stepped closer, until there was nothing between them but the faint drift of petals in the wind. His eyes searched Ruo Han's face, lingering on the subtle tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders.
Then — without warning — he lifted his hand and brushed a fallen blossom from Ruo Han's hair.
It should have been nothing. A simple gesture. But the moment his fingers lingered just a breath too long near Ruo Han's temple, the bond thrummed. Cedar and rain twined in the cold air, pulling tight around them.
Ruo Han's breath caught. "You shouldn't…"
"I know," Lan Xiyue said softly, but he didn't pull away.
For a moment, it felt as though the entire mountain had gone silent — the Sect, the Elders, the danger — all falling away until there was only the two of them, standing beneath a single stubborn bloom.
And in that fragile stillness, both of them understood:
The bond was growing stronge