Ouyang Che took another sip of tea before he replied. “That will be difficult. As a peak lord, you have responsibilities to the sect. It’s not always so peaceful here.”

“Closed door cultivation won’t do?” Mo Yixuan half joked.

“You can hide in a cave for the rest of your life, but I’d hardly call that living,” Ouyang Che replied seriously. “A live burial is more like it. The elders of the sect are content with it well enough, so you’re welcome to join them if you last. But I doubt you would.”

“Why not?” Mo Yixuan asked.

“Because peace isn’t bought, but found,” Ouyang Che replied. “Your heart is restless and your spirit weary. You would only be plagued by your thoughts if you shut yourself up with nothing else for company.”

“Then I’ll wander the world,” Mo Yixuan tossed out. “Away from all this, and the rest of your lot.”

“When you hardly grasp the basics of cultivation?” Ouyang Che scoffed. “The world would eat you alive. If it’s seclusion you want, then you can hardly find a better place than Star Pavilion Sect. Aside from a few mandatory appearances and occasions to defend our grounds, we don’t ask for much. A little sacrifice of your time can easily earn you the solitude you seek.”

“And the sect leader and Mu Yelian?” Mo Yixuan pressed, unconvinced.

“There are ways to make them leave you alone,” Ouyang Che coaxed. “If that’s what you want.”

“What do you want from all this?” Mo Yixuan blurted suddenly. He refused to believe that Ouyang Che was just humoring him out of good will.

Ouyang Che folded his hands. “The safety of the sect has always been important to me. I have no other requirements as long as you’re not a threat.”

“Is that it?” Mo Yixuan found it hard to believe.

“In a situation where neither side has anything to lose, I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Ouyang Che said smoothly. “You harbor no ill intentions and I have no reason to exterminate you, so let the river run its course.”

“You’re very pragmatic.”

“I do try my best. Your tea’s not bad,” Ouyang Che raised his empty cup towards Mo Yixuan with a smile. “Shall I tell you all about ‘Mo Yixuan’ now?”

—

By the time they finished, it was already late evening. Surprisingly, Mo Yixuan didn’t feel a trace of exhaustion or hunger despite a day without rest or food. He gazed accusingly at Ouyang Che as the latter rose to his feet.

“I thought you said I needed to rest?”

“You would, if you were the original ‘Mo Yixuan.’ The qi refining pool does a number on the soul. But seeing as you’re still completely chipper, I’m relieved to say that you’ve extinguished all traces of him and is as fresh as a carp turned dragon.” Ouyang Che replied without missing a beat. “It’s quite reassuring to see my theory confirmed with living proof.”

As Mo Yixuan digested those words, Ouyang Che continued to rattle off a list of reminders.

“You’ve already cultivated to a stage where you don’t need food for substance, so don’t worry about meals. Mediate daily when you can, it’ll regulate your qi and get you more used to this body. Also—” he paused to look around, then pointed in the most likely direction of Mo Yixuan’s rooms. “Remember to change back into your robes three months from now when the mourning period ends. We don’t want you looking like a ghost indefinitely.”

Mo Yixuan’s eyes flickered between his clothes and Ouyang Che’s own. Notably, both of them were wearing white. He recalled the scores of other disciples swathed in similar hues across the sect and came to a realization.

“You mean Star Pavilion Sect disciples don’t wear white?”

“Hardly,” Ouyang Che picked at his collar with distaste. “After our master died, Chenling was pushed to take the position of sect leader by the elders. He didn’t like it, so he made the entire sect dress in mourning clothes as protest. It’ll be master’s one year death anniversary soon, and then we can change back.”

Mo Yixuan wrinkled his brow. “Nan Wuyue was wearing black.”

“It makes him an easier target to pick out,” Ouyang Che nodded absently. “And it hides the injuries better. I wouldn’t be surprised if you did that to him on purpose.”

As Mo Yixuan’s expression grew complicated, Ouyang Che waved his hand in the air again, recalling the shimmering light that had surrounded them at the start of their conversation. It dispersed into dazzling fragments until Mo Yixuan could suddenly hear the sounds of the hot springs clearly from outside.

“A simple sound barrier,” Ouyang Che explained when Mo Yixuan looked up. “I didn’t want others listening in.”

“Pragmatic.”

“I did say I try my best.” Ouyang Che clasped his hands behind his back with a smile. “Friends?”

“Allied acquaintances,” Mo Yixuan amended.

“After everything I told you?”

“Your three hour speech was only glorified lip service,” Mo Yixuan said curtly. “I’m less likely to believe you have the sect’s best interests at heart when you could read Mo Yixuan like a book and yet didn’t move to stop him.”

Ouyang Che’s smile faded. “These things take time.”

“So you let a child suffer under him in the meantime?” Now it was Mo Yixuan’s turn to smile, but mockingly. “He would have been ten—eleven?—when Mo Yixuan took him in, but he’s been nothing but a convenient target since then. It’s no wonder he’s trying to act against his master now, after all that’s been done to him.”

“Those are speculations only,” Ouyang Che reminded him.

“There was enough evidence for you to guess with confidence,” Mo Yixuan pointed out. “And apparently, enough leeway for you to neglect him for the bigger prize.”

“Are you throwing accusations at me?”

“These are speculations only,” Mo Yixuan mimicked back.

Ouyang Che’s lips thinned into a line. “I came to you in good faith, but it looks like you have plenty of aspects that I still dislike, Mo Yixuan.”

“God forbid that you like me, Ouyang Che.”

“God? There are no gods here.” The lazy drawl of Star Pavilion Sect’s second-in-command had sharpened into a decisive snap. “Only the world they left behind, and the humans that strive in vain to reach their realms again.”

Mo Yixuan wondered what he meant, but the next second Ouyang Che had gone, leaving nothing but a faint breeze in his wake.

He was alone.

With an exasperated sigh, Mo Yixuan looked around the room before shrugging his shoulders. Fine, then. Have the last word.

He felt another breeze, and shot a glare at the open entrance. Apparently bugs weren’t an issue this high up in the mountains if everything was left open to the outdoors. But that didn’t stop him from feeling exposed, so the first thing Mo Yixuan did was close every door, window, and exit he could find and secure them in place with the locks. Many of them tingled at his fingertips: bolts backed by incantations sealed into the wood that worked better than any physical barriers.

After wandering through all the rooms, he finally ended up at the sleeping quarters. Out of curiosity, he opened the wardrobe door and discovered a neat row of sea-green robes all lined up: Mo Yixuan’s preferred color outside of mourning.

There was nothing else interesting, so Mo Yixuan prepared to shut the closet when a glint of something caught his eye. Blinking, he bent down and retrieved a ring from the baseboard underneath the robes. It was cool to the touch, a plain band of white jade that matched the clothing perfectly. As Mo Yixuan turned it in his hand, it shone innocently, almost inviting him to put it on.

As if.

He had no interest in jewelry, much less suspicious objects lacking an owner, so he simply placed it on a table before lying on the bed. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

—

White lights, stale air.

“...structural integrity was the issue here, the defendant clearly showed gross neglect in designing…”

“Catastrophic failure in the support components—”

“...no major casualities, however, the sole fatality in the case of Miss—”

“—excuse me! It’s clear that the prosecution is—”

“Mr. Mo, sit back down!”

A flurry of movements. Cloth scraping against skin, chairs skidding across the floor. The sickening impact of bone and sinew and skin against flesh.

Silence.

Fade into darkness, then soft golden light with easy music playing in the background. The creak of leather. The clinking of glasses. Laughter.

“You’re not very good with compliments, are you?” Shangguan Yin raises his glass with his signature eyebrow quirk. They’re sitting at a table—a long one, with scores of other employees of the firm in attendance. The president reigns at the head of the table, sharing a joke with his vice president in celebration.

There’s laughter and wine flowing all around, the atmosphere warm and intimate.

“There’s nothing worth praising about finishing a job you were paid to do,” Mo Yixuan says.

“I think you’re just too modest,” Shangguan Yin smiles brightly, his expression all teeth. Mo Yixuan wonders why he never noticed the knives hidden in that grin.

“It’s what I like about you best,” Shangguan Yin sighs, and he leans in close—too close, until the smell of alcohol overwhelms them both. “Yixuan, you’re really—”

—

Mo Yixuan woke up with a start.

When he came to his senses, he saw that the room was dark. A steady, persistent thrumming outside alerted him to the sound of rain. But there was a sharp, staccato quality to it, and as Mo Yixuan fumbled open the window latch, he saw that it was actually sleet falling from the skies. Fine needles settled onto the garden grounds, coating the bamboo plants in a thin layer of ice. Only the areas around the hot springs and the warm water within remained immune to the cold, hissing as each droplet melted upon proximity to its steam.

The day was dim and gray, giving paltry light to the inside of the room. Mo Yixuan extended a hand to catch the ice droplets in his palm and froze when he noticed the small, white jade ring wrapped securely around his right index finger. He quickly withdrew his hand to stare, then pulled it off his finger and tossed it outside the window with a curse.

He knew there was something suspicious about that ring!

Sleet continued to fall, with a stray breeze sending stray icicles onto the bedspread. Mo Yixuan hastily shut the windows before striding out of the room. Traces of his dream still lingered in his mind: the court case that had accelerated the downward spiral, the celebration dinner before everything went south. Mo Yixuan subconsciously wrinkled his brow before shaking the memories away.

Shangguan Yin…

He had lost against him before he even began.

Something cracked in the vicinity, and Mo Yixuan turned to see that a whole shelf of vases had shattered in his wake. Their pieces spilled across the wood and onto the floor in tiny porcelain fragments. Only then did he sense the turbulent qi swirling about his body and took a deep breath to settle his emotions.

Gradually, the tendrils died down and disappeared. In the ensuing calm, he sensed something else and looked up abruptly.

There was a presence by the door.

Ignoring the broken vases, he made a beeline for the front entrance and tugged it open. A blast of cold air hit him in the face, but Mo Yixuan’s attention was all on the sodden, shivering form kneeling at the foot of his doorstep.

Nan Wuyue was still dressed in the same torn black robes, while the fresh bandages over his eye were already gray and limp from moisture. Tiny icicles hung off the ends of his hair and ponytail, which was soaked through by the melted sleet.

He hardly reacted when Mo Yixuan opened the doors. If it wasn’t for his trembling body and misty breaths, Mo Yixuan might have taken him as a statue instead.

Sounds of footsteps came from the direction of the slope. Mo Yixuan’s eyes moved past Nan Wuyue to catch the slight figure of a girl holding an umbrella hurrying up the mountain. He recognized her as the young female disciple that had led them to Mu Yelian’s quarters at Mt. Luojia.

As she rounded the crescent, she noticed Mo Yixuan with wide eyes. The next second, she sprinted the rest of the way and went to kneel by Nan Wuyue’s side.

“Peak Lord Mo, you’ve finally come out!” Qing’er cried. “Please—please have mercy on your disciple! He’s still injured—at this rate, he’ll fall ill!”

A little bit of rain and cold could affect a cultivator? Mo Yixuan’s doubt was written all over his face.

That only made Qing’er panic as she exclaimed. “Nan Wuyue’s been kneeling outside for the past six days!”

Was his disciple some sort of masochist? Mo Yixuan’s expression grew complicated as he stared at the thin, stubborn form. Despite bowing his head, Nan Wuyue’s back was still straight, his arms hanging listlessly by his sides as sleet pounded at him from above. There was something pathetically heroic about it all, even as he cursed the boy for doing something so stupid with his injuries.

Self punishments like this one were common in such settings, but to Mo Yixuan’s modern sensibilities, they only seemed extremist. With a frown, he reached out a hand to pull the child up, only to freeze mid-action.

That damned jade ring was back on his finger again!

As Mo Yixuan’s expression darkened, Nan Wuyue finally lifted his head to look at him with a face full of chattering teeth.

“S-shizun…”