Midnight came cloaked in rain.
Thunder cracked somewhere beyond the mountains, and the Li estate felt suspended in silence—like it too was holding its breath.
Li Yun tightened the black sash around his waist and slipped out into the courtyard, his steps light and silent. He wore no sword tonight. What he was doing required presence, not power.
The map his mother had drawn led him behind the east garden, to the outer edge of the estate where moss-covered stones marked territory few dared enter. There, hidden by wild growth, was the lotus well.
It was older than the manor.
Older than the Li clan.
No one came here anymore.
Except ghosts.
Yun brushed aside a heavy vine, revealing the stone lip of the well. Moonlight broke through the clouds just long enough to reflect off the still water below.
He knelt beside it, fingers tracing the faded carvings on the rim—symbols he didn't recognize, though something about them made the hair on his arms rise.
Then he saw it.
A faint glint just beneath the surface.
Yun reached in slowly, the cold water biting at his skin. His fingers brushed something metallic and flat. He grabbed it and pulled.
A box.
Small, wooden, sealed with wax. Etched with his mother's name.
He exhaled slowly.
She really left this for me.
He sat cross-legged and broke the wax.
Inside was a folded piece of silk, wrapped around a note, and beneath it—a jade amulet shaped like a flame.
The note was short. Shaky.
If you are reading this, Yun'er… then you must never trust the ones who smile too easily.
Especially not the one who stands closest.
The rain grew heavier, thunder rolling above like distant drums of war.
He stared at the flame-shaped amulet. It pulsed faintly in his hand, as if reacting to the storm—or his blood.
What is this?
He stood, slipping the amulet into his robe.
He didn't know what game his father had played. But now he had proof that his mother had died with secrets too dangerous to speak aloud.
And someone else still wanted them buried.
He turned to leave—only to find a figure standing just beyond the clearing.
Lady Shen.
Her robe clung to her frame from the rain, and her hair was half-loose around her shoulders. She wasn't holding an umbrella.
She had followed him.
"Why are you here?" he asked sharply.
"I saw your door open," she said. "And I felt the air shift. I followed instinct."
"Convenient."
She stepped closer, slow and unthreatening. "You found something, didn't you?"
He didn't answer.
She looked at his hand, then at his eyes. "It's true, then. Your mother really did uncover the mark."
"What mark?"
"The Flame Sigil," she said. "It's not just a symbol. It's a key. To a forbidden technique lost centuries ago. Your father was desperate to find it."
Yun stiffened. "So she was killed… for that?"
Lady Shen didn't deny it.
"She wasn't supposed to get that far. The night she died, she was trying to leave with the amulet. I arrived too late."
"You saw her die?"
"I saw her fall," Lady Shen said, voice shaking. "But I never saw who pushed her."
He looked at her. "But you suspected."
She hesitated. "Yes."
"Then why not tell me before?"
"Because the more you knew, the more danger you were in."
"You think I care about danger?"
"I think you care about justice," she said. "But justice doesn't come freely. You have to survive first."
They stood there in the rain, the thunder roaring louder now, the sky ready to crack open.
Yun looked at her, searching for the lie—but what he saw instead stunned him.
Fear.
Not for herself.
For him.
"You knew about the well," he said. "Did you lead me here?"
"No. But I knew one day you'd come."
She stepped closer. Her voice dropped.
"Listen to me. Someone in this house still serves your father's allies. And they're watching both of us."
"Then speak plainly," Yun snapped. "Who?"
She exhaled, then whispered, "Your uncle. Li Chen."
Yun froze.
Li Chen—the quiet advisor, the one who arranged the servants, who kept the ledgers. The one who never raised his voice, never missed a family ceremony.
"That's not possible," Yun said.
"He was the one who intercepted your mother's letters," she replied. "He burned them before they reached you. I saw him once… and he threatened me."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I needed proof," she said. "And I needed you to believe me. Not because I said it… but because you found it for yourself."
Lightning split the sky above them, illuminating her face—soaked, pale, eyes glistening with exhaustion and something else.
Regret.
"I couldn't save your mother," she whispered. "Let me help you save yourself."
That night, Yun didn't return to his room.
He sat in the old pavilion overlooking the lotus pond, the amulet burning faintly in his hand.
Everything had changed.
His mother's death.
His uncle's betrayal.
Lady Shen's secrets.
But one thing remained—
He couldn't trust anyone.
Not fully.
Not yet.