The incense curled in gentle spirals, its pale smoke weaving through the still air. Lao Xuan sat cross-legged in silent meditation, but his heart had long drifted beyond the room, beyond the present. As the fragrance deepened, so too did the echoes of his memory—vivid, uninvited, returning with the clarity of moonlight on water.
He saw them again—three figures seated within the quiet warmth of the Qinghuan Inn. Himself, younger then but no less weathered; Ye Yishi, proud and stoic as always; and Liu Huan Yin, poised as the autumn wind, silent as frost upon leaves.
They were sharing old wine beneath the lantern glow, and Lao Xuan, as always, broke the silence with a chuckle.
"When will you two finally marry?" he teased, raising his cup. "Will you wait until the plum blossoms fall and rise no more? You torment yourselves with restraint! It's painful to watch. You love each other—why hide it as though it were a sin?"
Ye Yishi said nothing. Liu Huan Yin glanced down; cheeks tinged with the faintest hue. She stood abruptly, murmuring something about fetching more wine. When she was gone, Ye Yishi sighed and shook his head.
"You mock us too easily, old friend. You are shameless."
Lao Xuan only laughed.
"Shameless, yes—but transparent. I've never had time for riddles when it comes to the heart."
Ye Yishi said nothing for a long moment, then looked at him with quiet admiration. He had always trusted Lao Xuan—not only for his wisdom, but for the rare compassion behind that wry smile.
It was then that Ye Yishi spoke the true reason for his invitation.
"I have a request. My nephew… Ye Mingzhi. I wish for you to take him as your disciple. He needs guidance—real guidance. The kind only you can give."
Lao Xuan grew silent. He had heard whispers of this boy, this heir apparent to the Ye Clan. But he knew the truth behind that bloodline—a lineage feared by the heavens, and hunted by fate itself.
He nodded at last.
"Very well. But I must see him myself—and when I do, no one is to disturb us."
The scene shifted.
He remembered returning to the Qinghuan Inn some days later. Ye Yishi and Liu Huanyin waited with the boy. The child's eyes were clear, but behind them flickered something ancient, like a sealed door waiting to open.
"Leave him with me," Lao Xuan said simply.
On the rooftop beneath drifting clouds, Lao Xuan knelt before the boy.
"What is your name, child? And what do you seek to learn?"
"My name is Ye Mingzhi," the boy replied. "I want to learn to wield the sword. I want to protect those I love."
Lao Xuan smiled faintly.
"Before I teach you the sword, I must read the truth in your body."
He placed a hand on the boy's back. What he sensed chilled him—an ancient, coiled force dormant within the boy's blood, like the breath of a dragon sealed beneath ice. It was unlike anything common to the Ye Clan. No wonder so many of them perished young… the heavens themselves feared what lay within.
Lao Xuan said nothing. Some truths were too heavy for a child's shoulders. One day, perhaps, Ye Mingzhi would be strong enough to bear them.
The moonlight pooled across his room now, pale and unwavering. Lao Xuan opened his eyes from meditation. His bones ached with age, but his spirit remained firm.
He looked up at the moon and murmured softly:
"The curse that marked your birth… will be the key to your freedom.