Xu Lian’s stomach growled, loudly.

  The sound cut through the quiet air between the three of them, shattering the fragile peace like a stone tossed into still water. Both Mo Chen and Zhen Wei turned their gazes toward her, one with mild surprise, the other with amused curiosity.

  She cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "Well… cultivating sure makes me hungry." With a quick, half-apologetic laugh, she added, "I’ll go inside and prepare something. You two should relax out here, enjoy some tea, and have a nice conversation."

  As if they could relax with so many unspoken words hanging between them, she thought, but she kept that to herself.

  Mo Chen opened his mouth, ready to object, but before he could speak, Zhen Wei clapped his hands together, his grin bright.

  “Ah! Such generosity! I humbly accept this hospitality, Miss Xu Lian.” He shot Mo Chen a knowing look. “It would be rude to refuse such kindness, wouldn’t it?”

  Mo Chen’s jaw tensed. His gaze flickered between Xu Lian, who was already heading back inside, and Zhen Wei, whose easy smile had just a hint of mischief.

  This is my temple, he thought, a rare flare of possessiveness tightening his chest. Xu Lian, barely here for a short time, was already extending invitations as if she had lived here for years. He exhaled sharply through his nose but said nothing. Instead, he flicked his fingers toward the tea set on the small wooden table beneath the tree. The teapot shimmered briefly before refilling, steam curling into the air, carrying the delicate scent of osmanthus.

  Mo Chen took a seat across from Zhen Wei, his posture straight, his eyes dark and unreadable over the rising steam. He did not trust this man.

  Zhen Wei, as if entirely unaffected by the scrutiny, sat with easy grace, folding his legs beneath him. He reached for the porcelain teacup, lifting it with precise elegance before taking a slow sip.

  The cup itself was a muted, cold blue-gray, blending seamlessly with the cool tones of the stone courtyard, the mountains in the distance, and Mo Chen realized with some irritation, the guarded frost in his own heart. It did not suit Zhen Wei at all. The man was too bright, too theatrical, too… deliberate in every way.

  Yet here he was, drinking Mo Chen’s tea in Mo Chen’s courtyard, acting as if he belonged.

  Mo Chen did not drink. He sat unmoving, watching Zhen Wei as if waiting for him to slip, to reveal something beneath the charming veneer.

  Zhen Wei let the silence stretch between them, waiting, feeling the weight of Mo Chen’s stare. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he broke it.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” he murmured, swirling his tea lightly in its cup. “And I get it.”

  Mo Chen’s brow lifted slightly. “Oh, you do?”

  Zhen Wei nodded, his expression serene as he took another delicate sip. “Mmm.” He set the teacup down and folded his arms atop the table, his fan still held lightly between his fingers. “You’re thinking that there must be some conspiracy afoot. That I show up just when there was an increase of dark energy at this place.”

  Mo Chen exhaled slowly, fingers tapping once against the table. “That’s one thought.”

  Zhen Wei chuckled. “A fair one.” He idly unfolded his fan, the lacquered ribs glinting subtly in the low light. With an almost imperceptible movement, he fanned the air, releasing a gentle, undetectable current.

  The magic was subtle, imperceptible even to Mo Chen’s sharp senses. It did not cloud the mind, nor did it deceive, Zhen Wei would never stoop to trickery. Instead, it merely softened the edges of tension, allowing ease to slip into the bones like the warmth of afternoon sun on a cold day.

  Across from him, Mo Chen stiffened for a fraction of a second. His body, long accustomed to vigilance, felt the air shift, not in threat, but in comfort. His muscles, which had been coiled tight since Zhen Wei’s arrival, loosened slightly, his shoulders dropping an inch without him realizing.

  He frowned.

  It wasn’t a dangerous feeling. It wasn’t even unnatural. It was just… warm. Like sharing a quiet drink with an old friend.

  Zhen Wei watched Mo Chen’s internal battle with muted amusement. He said nothing, simply continuing to fan himself, the motion unhurried, the magic spreading subtly across the temple grounds. He ran his thumb along the edge of the tassel, reinforcing the spell, letting it settle into the space, making it feel as if things were easier, more… open.

  A long pause stretched between them.

  Mo Chen’s fingers curled slightly around his untouched teacup. He knew something was off, but the sensation wasn’t unpleasant. Against his better judgment, his expression softened just a little.

  The distant sound of cookware clinking drifted from inside the temple. The aroma of seared meat and fresh vegetables carried on the breeze, weaving between the subtle floral notes of the tea. Even the sky, once storm-heavy, had returned to its usual lazy drift, clouds rolling by like soft waves.

  Zhen Wei exhaled contentedly. “I’m here to help,” he said finally. His tone was easy, unforced. “That’s what I do. I tracked this evil aura from afar, and it led me to this place. This temple.”

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  For the first time, Mo Chen’s hard expression wavered. The effects of the fan’s magic had settled in fully now, loosening the walls around his thoughts. He didn’t understand why, but he found himself responding, not with suspicion, but something closer to reluctant acceptance.

  “I believe you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could fully analyze them.

  Zhen Wei allowed himself a small, pleased smile.

  At that moment, Xu Lian’s voice broke the moment.

  “You guys ready to eat?”

  Both men turned toward the doorway. Xu Lian stood there, her hair slightly mussed from cooking, a bit of flour smudged across her cheek. The scent of a freshly prepared meal wrapped around her, warm and inviting.

  For the first time that evening, Mo Chen took a sip of his tea.

  The table was set with a modest but fragrant meal. Steam curled from freshly cooked dishes, the aroma of seared vegetables, tender meats, and fragrant rice filling the temple’s courtyard. The atmosphere, which had felt oppressive just hours ago, had softened into something strangely pleasant, though the air still held an undercurrent of something unspoken.

  Xu Lian, still dusted with a bit of flour from her cooking, placed the last dish down with a satisfied nod. She plopped onto her seat, grabbing her chopsticks with enthusiasm. “Alright, let’s eat.”

  Zhen Wei, ever the gentleman, or perhaps just a man of indulgence, picked up his chopsticks with flourish. “Ah, such generosity. A home-cooked meal after a long journey, what fortune I have encountered today.”

  Mo Chen, however, hesitated. His fingers hovered over the utensils, his gaze lingering on their guest.

  Zhen Wei, catching the look, grinned. “Relax, Mo Chen. I assure you, I won’t disappear the moment you stop watching me.”

  Mo Chen let out a quiet huff, finally reaching for his chopsticks.

  Xu Lian, blissfully unaware of, or perhaps deliberately ignoring, the undercurrents of tension, took a bite of food and sighed in delight. “Mmm. Not bad, if I do say so myself.”

  Zhen Wei let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his chest. “Not bad? My dear Miss Xu Lian, this is divine. A meal as lovely as its maker.”

  Xu Lian chuckled, shaking her head. “Flattery doesn’t get you second helpings.”

  “Ah, but it is sincere flattery,” Zhen Wei countered, effortlessly sliding more food into his bowl.

  Mo Chen, finally taking a bite, gave a slight nod. “It’s fine.”

  Xu Lian blinked at him. “That’s it? Just ‘fine’?”

  A flicker of amusement passed through Mo Chen’s expression, but he remained impassive. “It’s better than most.”

  “For him, that’s high praise,” Zhen Wei noted with a teasing smirk. “Do you bestow such compliments often, Mo Chen?”

  Mo Chen ignored him.

  Undeterred, Zhen Wei continued, resting his elbow on the table. “I must say, this temple is quite the hidden gem. A lone cultivator residing in the mountains, only to be joined by an unexpected guest? Fascinating.”

  Mo Chen’s chopsticks paused mid-air before he resumed eating, answering curtly, “Not that fascinating.”

  “Ah, but it is. You must get so few visitors. How long have you been here?”

  Mo Chen’s eyes flickered upward, sharp and assessing. “A while.”

  Zhen Wei hummed, his expression unreadable. “And now, suddenly, I find myself here as well. What timing.”

  The weight of his words was not lost on Mo Chen. He set his bowl down, fingers tightening around his chopsticks. “You tracked a dark aura to this place, you said.”

  “That I did.”

  Mo Chen narrowed his eyes. “And yet, you show no urgency.”

  Zhen Wei tilted his head, swirling his cup of tea. “You mistake me, Mo Chen. I take all matters of darkness seriously. But one must balance duty with enjoyment. There’s no harm in sharing a meal before tackling fate, is there?”

  Xu Lian, sensing the shift in the air, cleared her throat. “Well, I for one am grateful. It’s been nice having company.”

  Mo Chen’s gaze flicked to her, then back to Zhen Wei.

  Zhen Wei studied them both, then exhaled. “Tell me, Miss Xu Lian, how are you feeling?”

  She blinked. “Me?”

  He nodded, something too keen in his gaze. “You seemed troubled earlier.”

  Xu Lian hesitated. The images from her dream flashed in her mind, the warmth of home, her mother’s absent stare, the black rot seeping down her face.

  “I… I had a nightmare.”

  Mo Chen immediately stilled.

  Zhen Wei’s expression remained neutral. “Would you care to share?”

  Xu Lian shifted uncomfortably but spoke nonetheless. “It was strange. I was back home, when I was a child. It felt real. I could smell dinner cooking, feel the warmth of the fire. But then… something changed. My mother, she…” Xu Lian swallowed, her voice quieter. “She wasn’t my mother anymore. She was standing at the window, but she wouldn’t look at me. And then… something dark started dripping down her face. Her skin… ” Xu Lian shook her head, forcing herself to push past the horror. “She changed. She de...

  Silence.

  The cicadas hummed softly in the distance, the only sound that dared intrude on the weight of her words.

  Mo Chen’s fingers curled subtly against his knee. He had heard of such visions before. Manifestations of corruption, omens that tainted the subconscious. But why her? Why now?

  Zhen Wei’s gaze softened. “That is no ordinary nightmare.”

  Xu Lian forced a weak laugh. “I figured as much.”

  “It is an ill omen,” Zhen Wei murmured, gaze flickering toward Mo Chen.

  Mo Chen met his stare, something unspoken passing between them.

  Xu Lian, trying to shake off the eerie silence, let out a breath. “It was just a dream.”

  Zhen Wei took a slow sip of his tea, his voice deceptively light. “Perhaps.”

  The conversation had turned heavy, but before it could settle into something unbearable, the breeze shifted. The scent of warm spices and roasted meat curled through the air once more, grounding them in the present.

  Zhen Wei leaned back, casting a glance at the sky. “I do wonder,” he mused, almost offhandedly. “How many people are watching her right now?”

  Xu Lian froze.

  Mo Chen’s gaze darkened instantly. “What?”

  Zhen Wei continued fanning himself, the motion smooth and lazy. “Oh, I don’t mean to alarm you. It’s just a thought. Someone like Miss Xu Lian, with such a unique presence… It’s only natural that eyes would eventually turn toward her.”

  Mo Chen’s grip on his teacup tightened. The temple had been isolated for years, untouched by the outside world. But now, now she was here. And so was Zhen Wei. And the shadows had begun to stir once more.

  real motives are? Drop your theories in the comments!

  ?? Current Work: "When the Heavens Turned Away" (天道无归 – Tiān Dào Wú Guī)

  ?? Themes I Write: Xianxia | Wuxia | Cultivation | Poetic Tragedy | Immortality & Fate

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