Chapter Seven: The Frost in the Jar
The banquet hall glittered with lantern light, silk sleeves brushing polished stone as servants moved between tables. Laughter flowed easily—too easily—for those who understood how close steel lay beneath courtesy.
Ling Hu lifted his cup, eyes never leaving the corner of the hall.
"The Wu Clan," he said lazily, "is known for its generosity. Yet their gift seems… absent."
A ripple of agreement followed.
Wang Xiao looked up from her food. "Oh. Mine's here."
She reached down and placed a small clay jar on the table.
Silence.
Ling Rou laughed openly. "A jar? Are you begging?"
Wang Xiao smiled faintly. "Don't open it indoors."
Ling Hu's brows lifted. "Why?"
"Because it doesn't like cages."
He opened it anyway.
Silver mist poured out, twisting midair, shaping itself into a tiny bird of frost and light. Its wings beat once.
The temperature dropped violently.
Candle flames guttered. Frost raced across the table, climbing Ling Hu's cup, creeping toward his fingers.
Wang Xiao calmly closed the lid.
The frost vanished.
The hall exhaled.
Ling Hu stared at the jar—not afraid. Calculating.
Yun Zhan's gaze sharpened.
Wang San grinned.
The fool was not a fool.