Dawn had come.
Zhenan lay on his back, hands folded behind his head. The room was dark, half-buried in the compound's ribs, but a small lattice window set high near the ceiling let in the pale morning light filter through paper. The bedding smelled faintly of washed hemp and old incense from someone else's corridor. The stone held the night's cold. It pressed up through the floor as if it wanted to climb into his bones.
He had slept, in the way a blade slept inside its sheath: present, contained, never truly resting.
Dreams had come in shards. Corridors without doors. White masks turning as one. The hiss of incense like a snake in a bowl.
And, once, an image of height. A bright rooftop line above fog. A flash of light-jade cloth, gone as soon as he reached for it, as if the mountain itself were a rumour. Up there. A Jade Wind girl shaped out of sunlight and air.
He kept his Qi close, running its circuits tight and quiet.
He thought of Bai Lin. Her look had said: We'll talk later.
Later had been waiting in the compound like a blade left on a table.
Zhenan's thoughts slid.
Subjects. Vessels. Thresholds.
And him. Kept one rung down.
Crimson Red on record, when his Qi could have carried more if he pushed. His name absent from the lists that went upward. Elder Qiang recommending field deployments whenever Lord Xie Han's attention lingered too long in his direction. Bai Lin steering him towards docks and public crackdowns, away from deeper corridors.
He was grateful. Mostly.
He had seen enough to know he did not want to stand inside whatever doors those crates went through. The men who came back wore their calm like lacquer. The kind of calm that meant something had splintered underneath.
He closed his eyes harder, as if that would help.
It did not.
A memory drifted up, unwanted and clear. Huo Mei, earlier in the week, smiling as if she were sharing a small piece of gossip.
Orders always catch up.
Zhenan exhaled. He turned his face into his arm.
He could stay in bed and pretend later would not come. He could let the compound decide the moment for him.
A soft scrape sounded at his door.
A deliberate, controlled sound, like someone placing something down and leaving without waiting to be seen.
Zhenan waited for a breath, listening for retreating steps. Then he rose.
Outside his door sat a small lacquered tray with a folded cloth on it.
He lifted it.
A Buddha's-hand citron lay cradled inside, its fingered rind splayed like a careful gesture. The scent hit first, sharp-sweet. A signal from Bai Lin that she wanted to talk to him now. In private.
Bai Lin's work was like that. Nothing wasted. Nothing that could be questioned as "message" unless you already knew how to read it.
Zhenan held it for one extra breath, then set it on the small table beside his bedding.
He dressed without lighting a lantern, fingers knowing where everything lived. He made no sound as he crossed the floor.
Outside his door, the corridor smelled of damp stone. Zhenan kept his shoulders loose, his face blank. He took the dimmer routes, skirting the brightest courtyards.
He exited the compound through a side gate and headed toward the Veil Zone.
There, the air changed. The world became slightly too quiet.
Zhenan let his echo walk on ahead of him, a soft impression cast for anyone with decent sensing. His real Qi stayed close.
After a turn, he saw the lantern.
And Vice Elder Bai Lin. She knelt by a low wall.
He had not felt her Qi at all until he was already within the lantern's edge. She had folded herself into stillness, invisible to casual sensing.
A stray cat sat, patient as a judge. Bai Lin fed it from her sleeve.
Zhenan stopped at the edge of the light.
Bai Lin gave the cat the last piece of dried fish. The animal chewed, unhurried. Only then did she rise and face him.
"You didn't sleep," she said.
It was an observation, like noting that rain had started.
Zhenan inclined his head. "Vice Elder Bai."
She turned slightly, angling her body so the courtyard wall was behind her. Her gaze held him a moment longer than was polite. To check him. To see if anything in him had cracked.
Zhenan kept his face still.
"They delivered another packet from the Bureau," she said.
Zhenan's chest tightened, just under the ribs. He kept his breathing even.
Bai Lin went on as if reading from a ledger.
"It's sealed with the Bureau stamp."
Zhenan said nothing. He felt the fog press in.
Bai Lin's voice dropped by a fraction.
"The Bureau is no longer content with limiting the training to Vice Elders and Elders alone. They say there are too few of them," she said. "The results aren't coming fast enough for their liking. They want the programme extended."
Zhenan's fingers curled inside his sleeves. He could already sense where this was heading, a cold certainty settling in his gut.
"To Senior Ascendants," he said.
Bai Lin's expression did not change.
"To Senior Ascendants," she confirmed. "Lord Xie himself is eager to accommodate. He wants the best of them, the ones with the steadiest Qi, the sharpest control. They believe expanding the pool will yield better results, refine the Mantle method faster."
The words landed like a collar closing around his throat, the invisible weight of expectation tightening with each breath.