The low hum of piano notes leaked from one of the practice halls as Ji Lanxue walked the quiet path lined with ginkgo trees, their golden leaves rustling softly underfoot. She had skipped her elective, the restlessness inside her gnawing like a silent storm.
She needed air. Space.
What she didn't expect was the shadow that peeled off the edge of the courtyard wall and stepped into her path.
"Still carrying your pride like a sword, Lanxue," the voice was smooth, like aged wine laced with arsenic.
Ji Lanxue stopped, her eyes narrowing. The man before her had grown taller, sharper. His tailored coat was lazily thrown over his shoulder, and despite the years apart, she recognized him instantly.
"Ji Chengyu."
A slow smirk touched his lips. "Ah, you still remember me. Cousin."
She said nothing at first. Her fingers curled tighter around her phone in her coat pocket. Ji Chengyu, the exiled heir, the scandal-draped ghost of the Ji family. Sent abroad to 'cleanse the name', and yet here he was—standing before her with the same arrogance he used to wear at family banquets.
"You're not supposed to be in the country," she said coolly.
"And yet here I am. The air here is thicker than I remember. So much… unrest." His gaze lingered on her face. "Especially around that veiled musician everyone's whispering about. The one your brother's been protecting so fiercely."
Ji Lanxue's face didn't move, but her spine straightened slightly.
He noticed.
"So it's true," he mused. "She's not just a musician, is she?"
"What do you want, Chengyu?" Her voice was flat, but her tone warned him not to push too far.
"I want to help," he said, too easily. "After all, we're family. And family looks out for each other, don't they?"
She scoffed. "You don't come back after four years just to reconnect."
"No," he agreed, stepping closer. "But I do come back when the Ji family is hiding something worth unraveling."
Before she could retort, he slipped a black card from his pocket — minimal, embossed with nothing but coordinates and a time.
"Come. Tonight. Or don't. Either way, the truth has its way of clawing out of the dark."
He tucked it into her coat pocket like a final note.
Then he turned and walked off, his footsteps leisurely, deliberate — as if he'd just won the first round of a game only he could see the full board of.
Ji Lanxue stood there, heart steady but mind alert. She didn't look at the card. Not yet.
But she didn't throw it away either