The hallways of the eastern wing were quiet, the air still with the scent of old wood and ink.
I did not slow my steps.
The door to the study was slightly open. I did not knock.
Inside, my guardian sat at his desk, a brush in hand, a half-written letter resting beneath his fingers. He did not look up immediately.
I stepped inside, allowing the weight of my presence to fill the space.
Only then did he glance at me.
"Yun Qingxue," he greeted, voice neutral.
I tilted my chin slightly, my hands folding together in my sleeves. "You're free."
It was not a question.
A pause.
Then, a quiet sigh. He set the brush aside, finally acknowledging me fully. "To what do I owe this visit?"
I let a beat of silence pass. Not long enough to be disrespectful, but just enough to remind him that I did not come here as a meek disciple requesting an audience.
"There's an issue in the sect," I said smoothly. "One I assume you'd prefer to handle before it gets out of hand."
His brow lifted slightly. "An issue?"
I met his gaze, my own calm, measured.
"I am being targeted."
His fingers tapped once against the desk. "By whom?"
"Outer sect disciples," I answered. "Ranked higher than me." A slight pause, my voice cool. "They seem to think that makes them untouchable."
Another pause.
Then, a light breath of amusement.
"You're asking me to step in?"
I let my lips curve—not a smile, but something close. "No. I am reminding you of your duty."
His expression did not change, but I saw the way his posture shifted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.
I did not wait for him to reply.
Instead, I stepped forward, resting a delicate hand on the edge of his desk. "I assume you know what people will say if I were to be… inconvenienced." I tilted my head, letting my words settle. "If the sect cannot even protect its own, what does that say about the people in charge?"
Silence.
Then, a soft chuckle.
"You really are your mother's daughter."
I did not react.
I had no interest in whether he found me amusing or infuriating. I was simply stating a fact.
After a moment, he exhaled. "I will look into it."
That was all I needed.
I inclined my head slightly, as though satisfied. Then, without another word, I turned and left.
He did not call me back.
He never did.
I looked at the sky, thinking.
Who, then, would help me?
Not my mother. She did not solve problems—she shaped them into something useful.
Not my father. He had never even looked at me long enough to recognize a problem.
My guardian was reliable, but only in ways that benefited him.
Which left…
I exhaled slowly.
It left my uncle.
A different approach, then. A different persona.
I smiled to myself.
And changed course.
…
The western courtyard was bright, the late afternoon sun casting golden hues across the stone pathways.
I slowed my steps this time.
Not because I was hesitant—no, hesitation was a thing for those who lacked control.
But my uncle was not like my guardian.
Power did not move him. Obligation did not bind him.
He was careless, whimsical, indulgent.
And so, I had to be the same.
The doors to his quarters were wide open, as they always were. The scent of wine drifted through the air, mingling with the faint laughter of a servant girl who quickly stepped away the moment she saw me.
My uncle sat lazily on a cushioned bench, a wine cup twirling between his fingers. His robes were loose, his hair half undone, as though he'd just woken from an afternoon nap.
He glanced up at me, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Qingxue," he drawled. "What brings my lovely niece to my humble dwelling?"
I stepped inside, letting my sleeves sway just enough to mimic a child's unbothered grace. My voice was light, almost teasing.
"Does my uncle need a reason to be visited?"
He chuckled, setting his wine down. "No, but you do."
I pouted.
A delicate, spoiled thing.
"You're being mean again."
His smirk widened. "And you're being sweet. Which means you want something."
I sighed, stepping closer, allowing myself to fold into the seat beside him, resting my chin on my hand.
"Uncle," I hummed. "I'm being bullied."
A lazy blink. "Oh?"
I nodded, my expression shifting—just a touch of frustration, a sliver of helplessness, hidden behind my usual playfulness.
"Outer sect disciples," I murmured, tracing a finger along the rim of his abandoned wine cup. "Ranked higher than me. So arrogant." I exhaled. "So… disrespectful."
I glanced at him through my lashes.
"You wouldn't let your niece suffer, would you?"
He hummed, considering. "Suffer? I find that hard to believe."
I huffed, turning my face away as though insulted. "I knew it. My uncle doesn't care about me at all."
A chuckle. "Oh, don't pout, little fox." A finger tapped my forehead lightly. "What do you want me to do?"
I let the silence stretch, just for a breath.
Then, I leaned closer, voice almost conspiratorial. "I don't know. Maybe…" A pause, my lips curving. "Make them regret it?"
His brow lifted slightly. "You want me to deal with them for you?"
I met his gaze, tilting my head. "No."
I let the word settle.
Then, with a soft smile, I continued.
"I want you to make them wish they'd never even thought about me."
Another pause.
Then, my uncle laughed.
A full, amused laugh, as though he had just been given the most interesting game to play.
He reached for his wine again, swirling it before taking a sip.
"You're trouble," he mused.
I rested my chin on my hand once more. "I'm your niece."
A grin. "That you are."
A sip. A smirk.
I watched him, waiting.
And waited.
But no answer came.
The silence stretched—not long, not awkward, but pointed. My uncle had already moved past the conversation, his amusement lingering like the last traces of wine on his lips.
He wasn't dismissing me.
But he wasn't agreeing, either.
…Tiresome.
I exhaled softly, smoothing the folds of my sleeves as I stood. "Then, I won't disturb you any longer."
He didn't stop me.
Didn't even look up.
As if, the moment I turned away, I was no longer there.
I stepped past the threshold, the door sliding shut behind me with a quiet finality.
And yet, as I walked down the dimly lit corridor, something gnawed at the edges of my thoughts.
Not frustration.
Not disappointment.
Something quieter.
I had played my part. The spoiled niece, the favorite, the one who could twist a request into a demand without ever raising her voice. And yet—
And yet.
I should have felt satisfied.
Instead, I felt… nothing at all.
My pace slowed.
The stone tiles beneath my feet were cold. The corridor stretched long, empty. Outside, the night air stirred, rustling the courtyard lanterns.
I breathed in.
And exhaled.
One more persona. One more step forward.
But I was not done yet.
There were still more pieces to move.