The Cold Courtyard had no clocks. No morning bells. Time passed like drifting mist — soft, aimless, heavy.
But today, something shifted.
A soft knock at Yan Rui's door woke him just before dawn.
> "The Lord summons you," said a quiet voice from beyond the screen. "To the Serpent Hall."
He didn't ask why.
He dressed in silence, wrapping the simple white robes around his body, and followed the servant through winding hallways, past gardens thick with dew. The palace felt different this morning — quieter, more watchful.
He was led not to a throne room, but into a domed chamber that pulsed with warm, damp air.
Steam curled from the center — where a massive stone pool stretched across the room, filled with water so dark it looked like ink.
And in the middle of it, surrounded by floating lotus petals and candlelight—
Mo Jue.
Hair loose, robes discarded at the edge of the pool, skin slick with water and moonlight.
His back was turned.
> "You came," he said softly, without looking.
Yan Rui stayed at the threshold. "You sent for me."
Mo Jue turned slowly.
The water rippled around him, but did not conceal him. His skin was pale, unmarred, the curve of his collarbone glinting above the surface. His silver hair floated like silk threads behind him.
Golden eyes locked onto Yan Rui with quiet precision.
> "Do you fear me?"
> "No."
> "Then step in."
Yan Rui's fingers curled at his sides.
> This is a game.
But refusing would give the Serpent Lord what he wanted. Fear. Hesitation.
And Yan Rui had never played roles he couldn't control.
He loosened his sash, let the outer robe fall, and stepped into the water.
It was hotter than he expected. Almost too hot. Like the heat of a coiled body pressed against skin.
He waded slowly toward the center, never breaking eye contact.
Mo Jue did not move. He simply watched.
Silent. Patient. Like something waiting for a pulse to slow.
When Yan Rui stopped a few feet away, the demon lord tilted his head.
> "Your body is human. But your soul resists submission."
> "Then stop trying to tame it."
Mo Jue moved forward — not swimming, but gliding — and came to a stop just a breath away. Yan Rui felt the change in pressure. The closeness. The heat of bare skin beneath still water.
> "I do not wish to tame you," Mo Jue murmured. "I wish to understand what makes you burn."
His hand lifted — slowly — and rested two fingers just below Yan Rui's collarbone. The touch was light. Not demanding. Not cruel. Just… curious.
> "Your heart beats faster when I touch you."
> "Because I'm cold," Yan Rui lied.
Mo Jue smiled faintly, as if indulging him.
> "There is no cold here."
Silence settled between them. Steam swirled around their faces. The water lapped gently at their waists.
Yan Rui did not move.
Neither did Mo Jue.
Only the space between their breaths shifted.
Then Mo Jue leaned in — not enough to kiss, not enough to frighten — and whispered near Yan Rui's ear.
> "You do not bend. I admire that."
> "Then stop trying to break me," Yan Rui said, steady.
Mo Jue's breath ghosted across his jaw.
> "I haven't even started."
And with that, he pulled away, drifting backward across the water like a ripple of silk, his smile unreadable.
> "You may leave."
Yan Rui didn't move for a moment. Then he turned and walked out — not hurried, not shaken. Only burning.
---
Outside, dressed again in dry robes, he paused at the entrance of the Cold Courtyard.
His heart still raced.
> He wants something.
Not my loyalty. Not just my body. Something else.
Whatever game had begun… it was no longer being played on a board.
It was in the heat of skin. The thrum of instinct. The silence between two monsters learning how the other bleeds.
---
[End of Chapter 4]