For the first time in several days, the hidden investigation room remained undisturbed.
The candles had long since burned low.
The wall of clues stood silently beneath their fading light, each carefully arranged report, letter, and symbol waiting for the next piece of the puzzle.
Xiaoyu slowly climbed the stone steps leading back into the Sect Master's residence.
Her mind felt heavier than it had in days.
Since discovering the first stroke hidden within the Bamboo Courtyard, she had spent nearly every waking moment inside the secret room.
Comparing.
Measuring.
Reconstructing.
Questioning.
Yet despite countless attempts, the remaining three strokes refused to reveal themselves.
Every answer seemed only to produce another question.
She gently closed the hidden passage behind her.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
"...Enough for today."
Outside, dusk had already settled over Heng Ming Sect.
Golden light lingered upon the distant mountain peaks while cool evening winds drifted through the bamboo groves surrounding the Sect Master's residence.
For the first time in what felt like forever...
She simply wanted to breathe.
Without calling for anyone, Xiaoyu stepped into the courtyard.
The familiar stone path stretched quietly before her.
The fragrance of fresh bamboo leaves mixed with the evening breeze.
Somewhere in the distance, disciples were concluding their evening training.
The rhythmic clashing of wooden practice swords echoed faintly across the mountain before gradually fading into silence.
Behind her, as always, Shen Wei stood respectfully with his hands folded.
Neither master nor servant spoke.
After serving Yuchen for so many years, Shen Wei had long since understood that silence was sometimes the greatest form of companionship.
Several moments passed peacefully.
Then—
"Brother!"
A cheerful voice shattered the tranquility.
Both Xiaoyu and Shen Wei turned.
Zichen approached with his usual carefree stride, dressed in pale blue robes that swayed gently with each step.
A bright smile rested naturally upon his face.
Unlike Tianyu's calm dignity...
Zichen always seemed capable of bringing warmth wherever he went.
He stopped before Xiaoyu and offered a casual bow.
"Brother."
Xiaoyu inclined her head slightly.
"Zichen."
Before another word could be exchanged, Zichen's gaze shifted toward Shen Wei.
The smile on his face immediately widened.
"Perfect."
Shen Wei instinctively felt a sense of unease.
"...Young Master?"
"I've come to borrow you."
Shen Wei blinked.
"...Borrow me?"
"Mm."
Zichen nodded seriously.
"For a little while."
Shen Wei hesitated before answering politely.
"If Young Master requires assistance, I can arrange for another attendant to accompany you."
"No."
Zichen shook his head immediately.
"I want you."
The response came so quickly that Shen Wei was momentarily speechless.
He looked helplessly toward Xiaoyu.
"Sect Master..."
Xiaoyu raised an eyebrow.
"What happened?"
Zichen sighed dramatically before folding his arms.
"The physician prescribed another medicinal soup."
"It tastes terrible."
"My attendants somehow manage to make it taste even worse."
He glanced toward Shen Wei.
"But every time Shen Wei supervises the kitchen..."
"...it becomes drinkable."
Shen Wei lowered his head modestly.
"It is merely ordinary preparation."
"Ordinary?"
Zichen looked unconvinced.
"I've watched the cooks."
"They use the same herbs."
"The same fire."
"The same pot."
"Yet somehow yours doesn't taste like punishment."
A faint smile threatened to appear on Xiaoyu's lips.
She quickly suppressed it.
Zichen noticed anyway.
His grin grew wider.
"See?"
"Even Brother agrees."
"I did not say that."
"You didn't deny it either."
Shen Wei quietly rubbed his forehead.
"Young Master Zichen..."
"I serve the Sect Master."
"I know."
Zichen nodded earnestly.
"Which is why I'm asking permission."
He turned toward Xiaoyu once more.
"Brother..."
"I promise I'll return him before long."
For a brief moment, Xiaoyu looked from Zichen to Shen Wei.
Then she gave a small nod.
"Go."
Shen Wei hesitated.
"But Sect Master—"
"I'll remain within the residence."
"There are guards nearby."
After a brief pause, Shen Wei bowed deeply.
"As you command."
The moment permission was granted, Zichen smiled triumphantly.
"I knew Brother would agree."
Without waiting any longer, he gently caught Shen Wei by the sleeve.
"Come."
"We're rescuing tonight's medicine."
Shen Wei sighed in quiet resignation as he allowed himself to be led away.
As the two disappeared along the stone corridor, Zichen's teasing voice continued drifting through the evening air.
"Don't look so miserable."
"I'm borrowing you."
"Not kidnapping you."
Shen Wei's helpless reply was carried away by the wind.
Gradually...
Their voices disappeared altogether.
Silence returned to the courtyard.
Xiaoyu remained where she was.
The evening breeze brushed gently against her sleeves.
For the first time in many days...
She was completely alone.
A peaceful stillness settled around the residence.
Then—
Footsteps.
A lone disciple approached along the stone path.
His robes were plain.
His expression unremarkable.
Nothing about him stood out.
As he neared the Sect Master, he slowed and bowed respectfully.
"This disciple greets the Sect Master."
Xiaoyu acknowledged him with a small nod.
"You may rise."
The disciple obeyed without hesitation.
He continued walking.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Then...
Without turning around...
Without slowing his pace...
He spoke calmly.
"The bamboo remembers those who planted it..."
A brief silence followed.
"...even when the gardener no longer does."
His footsteps never faltered.
Within moments, he disappeared beyond the corridor as though nothing unusual had happened.
Xiaoyu remained perfectly still.
The breeze that had felt refreshing only moments earlier suddenly seemed cold.
Her eyes slowly narrowed.
Those words...
They were not spoken to her.
They had been spoken to...
Yuchen.
For the first time, the realization struck her with unmistakable clarity.
Whoever had been sending the mysterious letters had grown tired of waiting.
They were no longer hiding behind folded paper.
They had begun reaching out directly.
And somehow...
They believed Yuchen would understand exactly what they meant.
The disciple had long disappeared.
Yet Xiaoyu remained rooted to the spot.
The words lingered in the air long after the footsteps had faded.
The bamboo remembers those who planted it... even when the gardener no longer does.
She repeated the sentence silently.
Again.
And again.
No matter how she interpreted it, the meaning remained just beyond her reach.
It wasn't a threat.
It wasn't a warning.
If anything...
It sounded like someone reminding Yuchen of a promise only he could remember.
A promise she knew nothing about.
The thought sent an involuntary chill down her spine.
How many secrets had Yuchen been carrying before she arrived in this world?
How many faces had he hidden behind that cold expression?
How many lives had become entangled with his?
She had believed the comic's villain was merely a ruthless Sect Master destined to fall before the hero.
But the deeper she investigated...
The less she recognized the story she once thought she knew.
A gentle breeze brushed across the courtyard.
Only then did Xiaoyu realize how long she had been standing there.
Footsteps approached from behind.
"Master."
Shen Wei's calm voice interrupted her thoughts.
"I have returned."
Xiaoyu slowly turned.
Shen Wei immediately noticed the distant look in her eyes.
His brows drew together almost imperceptibly.
"Has something happened?"
For a brief moment, Xiaoyu considered telling him.
The mysterious disciple.
The strange proverb.
The unsettling feeling that someone had been watching her every move.
But the words never left her lips.
"...Nothing."
It was a simple answer.
Too simple.
Shen Wei had served Yuchen long enough to know that silence often concealed more than words ever could.
Still, he lowered his head respectfully.
"The evening air is becoming colder."
"You should return inside, Master."
Xiaoyu looked toward the darkening sky.
The last traces of sunlight had already disappeared beyond the mountains.
Without another word, she gave a slight nod.
The two walked back together.
The stone path stretched quietly beneath the warm glow of lanterns.
Neither of them spoke.
There was no need.
The silence between them was neither awkward nor heavy.
It was simply familiar.
Upon reaching the residence, Shen Wei stepped aside and opened the door.
Xiaoyu entered first.
The familiar scent of sandalwood greeted her.
She removed the outer cloak from her shoulders and draped it neatly over the wooden stand before walking toward the low table beside the window.
Outside, the bamboo swayed gently beneath the moonlight.
Inside, the room was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
She lowered herself onto the cushion and slowly closed her eyes.
Her breathing gradually steadied.
One clue after another surfaced within her mind.
The anonymous letters.
The mysterious symbol.
The hidden passage beneath the Bamboo Courtyard.
The fragmented memories.
The masked figures kneeling before Yuchen.
And now...
That inexplicable proverb.
Every thread seemed connected.
Yet none of them formed a complete picture.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
At that exact moment—
Three measured knocks sounded from outside the room.
Shen Wei stepped forward before speaking through the closed door.
"Master."
"Senior Brother Li Jianghong has arrived."
Xiaoyu slowly opened her eyes.
Li...
He had not visited for several days.
Not because the investigation had ended.
But because after her collapse, he had insisted she rest before continuing their work.
If he had come tonight...
Then he must have found something.
The calm expression of the Sect Master returned to her face.
"Invite him in."
"As you command."
Shen Wei slid the door open.
A moment later, Li Jianghong entered the room with his usual composed demeanor.
He bowed respectfully.
"This disciple greets the Sect Master."
Xiaoyu inclined her head slightly.
"There is no need for formalities between us."
Li looked up briefly.
Though neither smiled...
The stiffness that had once existed between them had quietly begun to disappear.
Without another word, he reached into his sleeve and produced several carefully folded sheets of paper.
Instead of speaking, he took the brush resting beside the inkstone.
The familiar routine began once more.