The morning after the archive opened, the Duan estate felt unusually quiet.
Not the controlled quiet it always maintained, but something softer.
Su Nian woke early.
She sat at the small writing desk by the window in her guest room, watching sunlight move slowly across the garden paths below. The world looked the same. That, too, felt strange. After revelation, she had expected disruption. Noise. Signs.
Instead, there was only stillness.
She placed her palm lightly against her chest.
The warmth there remained, steady and patient.
Not urging.
Not demanding.
Her grandmother would have approved.
If it begs you, don't trust it.
If it rushes you, don't follow it.
Su Nian exhaled slowly and rose.
She dressed simply and left the room without alerting the staff. The Duan household was used to movement at all hours, but she did not want company—not yet.
Her feet carried her through the corridors toward the small, unused inner courtyard near the eastern wing. It was a place few people visited, enclosed by tall walls and old stone. Moss crept between the tiles. A single camphor tree stood in the center, its branches arching outward in patient symmetry.
Her grandmother would have liked this place.
Su Nian sat on the low stone bench beneath the tree.
For a long time, she did nothing.
She did not open her senses fully. She did not search for black qi or trace patterns in the air. She let the world exist without her interpretation.
That restraint took effort.
The ability to see corruption made ignorance impossible—but restraint was a different skill entirely.
"Good morning."
Yichen's voice did not startle her.
She had known he was there before he spoke—not through sensing, but through familiarity. The weight of his presence had become recognizable, distinct from others.
He stood a few steps away, jacket draped over one arm, posture relaxed. His movement remained careful.
"You're up early," he said.
"So are you," she replied.
He smiled faintly. "Habit."
He approached and stopped at a polite distance making sure not to crowd her space. He had learned, she realized, to wait for permission rather than take it.
That, too, mattered.
"I didn't want to be interrupted," Su Nian said.
"By what?" Yichen asked.
"Expectation."
He considered that. "Is it heavy?"
"Yes."
He nodded once. "It always is."
They sat in silence for a while, the camphor leaves whispering softly above them.
"I don't want to become what they expect," Su Nian said finally.
Yichen did not ask who they were.
"I don't want to be the answer to every problem," she continued. "Or the tool they reach for when things go wrong."
He studied her profile carefully. "And what do you want to be?"
She frowned slightly. "That's the problem. I don't know yet."
"That's not a problem," Yichen said. "That's a boundary."
She looked at him.
"Most people rush to define themselves," he continued. "It makes them easier to use."
Su Nian's lips curved faintly. "You sound like someone who's been used."
He smiled—brief, sharp. "Frequently."
She turned her gaze back to the courtyard.
"I can feel it," she said. "The pull. When something nearby is wrong. Black qi doesn't ask permission."
"And yet," Yichen said, "you didn't chase it this morning."
She nodded. "Because if I don't decide when to act, it will decide for me."
"That's wisdom," he said quietly.
She glanced at him. "Or cowardice."
"No," he replied without hesitation. "Cowardice is refusing to know. You already know."
Su Nian exhaled.
She closed her eyes and did something deliberate.
She reached inward—not opening herself fully, not allowing the key to flare—but acknowledging its presence. She pictured a door not opening, but remaining shut by choice.
The warmth responded—not resisting, not pushing.
It waited.
Her shoulders relaxed.
"That's new," she murmured.
"What is?" Yichen asked.
"It listened."
His brows rose slightly. "That's… encouraging."
She smiled faintly. "Or alarming."
Footsteps approached.
Dr. Fang appeared at the courtyard entrance, carrying two cups of coffee like peace offerings and wearing an expression that suggested he had debated turning around several times.
"I thought you might need caffeine," he said tentatively. "For… existential reasons."
Su Nian laughed quietly.
It surprised her how easily the sound came.
Dr. Fang visibly relaxed. "Good. That means the world isn't ending before breakfast."
He handed her a cup and then looked at Yichen. "Also, your aunt is demanding a meeting."
Yichen sighed. "Of course she is."
"She says it's about 'proper procedures,'" Dr. Fang added. "Which I believe translates to 'panic in formal clothing.'"
Su Nian smiled into her coffee.
Yichen turned to her. "You don't have to attend."
She shook her head. "No. This is part of it."
"Part of what?"
"Deciding when to be present," she replied.
Yichen studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Then we go together."
She met his gaze. "You don't have to."
"I know," he said simply.
They rose.
Before leaving the courtyard, Su Nian paused and placed one hand lightly against the camphor tree's bark.
Her grandmother's voice echoed faintly in her memory—not words, but a feeling of approval.
Power isn't proven by how much you can change,
but by how much you refuse to.
Su Nian turned back toward the house.
The day awaited.
And for the first time, she stepped into it not as a reaction, not as a response—but by choice.