Love has no face.

Cloud Recesses – Morning, under a heavy sky

Lan Xichen stood near the pavilion, eyes scanning the distance for the third time that hour. The usually tranquil air of Cloud Recesses felt strangely suffocating today. A heaviness sat in his chest—a tight, quiet dread he hadn't felt in years. Not since...

Mother…

His footsteps quickened as he approached the junior guards stationed near the outer courtyard.

"Have you seen Hanguang-jun today?" he asked one, trying to keep the unease out of his voice.

"No, Sect Leader. Not since yesterday evening."

That was all he needed to hear. Within minutes, he had summoned all available disciples and ordered a full search of the Cloud Recesses—every path, library wing, secluded glade, and meditation hall. But as the sun climbed higher, the news remained the same.

No sign of Lan Wangji.

Lan Xichen stood at the edge of the lotus pond, hands clenched beneath his sleeves when a familiar voice spoke behind him.

"I heard you're looking for Wangji. A junior cultivator informed me."

He turned. "Yes, uncle," he said tightly. "I can't find him anywhere. And Wangji… he never leaves without notice. Not even once. He hasn't sent a message. It's not like him. I'm—worried."

Lan Qiren's usually stern features softened, if only slightly. "I think you are right to be concerned… But Wangji is strong. Perhaps he left briefly on some urgent task."

"I would know," Xichen said, brows furrowing. "He tells me everything. He would've told someone."

Qiren opened his mouth to say something, but a white-robed cultivator jogged up the steps, bowing quickly.

"Sect Leader Lan," he said breathlessly, "we heard rumors from a merchant passing through the valley—people have seen Wen Chao and other Wen cultivators near Gusu… even Wen Zhuliu among them."

The words hit like a gust of winter wind.

"What?" Lan Qiren's voice grew sharp. "Wens here, in our territory? And without informing the sect? This reeks of something foul."

Lan Xichen's expression hardened. "Take me to the last place they were seen."

Qiren placed a hand on his arm. "Perhaps we should send the guards first—"

But then he saw Xichen's face—composed, yes, but his eyes burned with a calm fury.

Qiren let out a sigh and nodded. "Very well."

---

The woods had grown unnaturally still by the time they arrived.

A dozen guards followed closely behind Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren, their footsteps light but purposeful. The air here felt heavier—thick with the stench of damp earth and something else... something wrong.

The old cottages loomed ahead, crumbling and crooked, their wooden beams warped with age and neglect. Vines wrapped around stone like strangling fingers. Dust floated in the stale air, disturbed only by their movement.

But the silence—

The silence felt alive.

As they stepped closer, Qiren's brows furrowed. "This place was sealed off decades ago," he muttered. "No one has used these chambers since before you were born."

Yet the truth was undeniable.

The old spiritual seals—once precise and strong—now glowed faint and fractured. Some had been forcibly undone. Others flickered like dying embers.

Lan Xichen's heart sank.

"This place is not abandoned," Qiren said darkly, tightening his grip on his sword.

Xichen moved forward, slow but firm, scanning every corner, every shadow. "Wangji..." His voice cut through the silence. "If you're here... answer me."

But no sound replied. Not even the echo of his own voice.

Not even birds.

Only the wind, brushing through broken walls like a whisper of warning.

A deep sense of foreboding pressed against Xichen's chest. The earth itself felt as if it had been disturbed. The presence of the Wens. The vanished seals. And Wangji's sudden disappearance... it was too precise.

Too timed.

Qiren spoke low, the edge of unease finally evident in his tone, "This isn't a coincidence. It's a plan."

Xichen didn't hesitate. His voice dropped to ice. "Search everything. Every room. Every hidden passage. Every stone that looks even slightly out of place."

"We're not leaving," he said, "until we find my brother—or uncover what filth the Wens have dragged into our land."

The guards bowed sharply.

"Yes, Sect Leader."

And with that, they split off in swift motion, disappearing into the ruins like a tide of white.

Lan Qiren glanced at Xichen once more—then without another word, drew his sword and stepped into the shadows searching the place.

---

For several minutes, the guards found nothing—only dust, cobwebs, and the creak of old wood under careful footsteps. The deeper they went, the more the ruins seemed to mock them with silence.

But then—

A sharp voice rang out. "Sect Leader Lan!"

One of the younger cultivators came sprinting back through the overgrown path, breath quick, a weathered talisman clutched tightly in his hand. Dirt clung to the edges of the parchment, but its distinct crimson seal was unmistakable.

He knelt swiftly before Lan Xichen and Qiren. "This was found near the entrance to a concealed corridor—hidden beneath loose stone behind the eastern wall. The corridor leads to a sealed chamber."

Lan Xichen took the talisman, eyes narrowing.

The mark upon it burned like a confirmation—faint but clear.

The Wen sect's sigil.

His expression darkened instantly.

Qiren leaned closer, his face unreadable, but his voice low with certainty. "So... they are here."

Without another word, Xichen turned sharply. "Lead the way."

The guards regrouped swiftly, swords at the ready, as they followed the young cultivator toward the concealed passage. Branches snapped beneath hurried feet, robes rustled against stone and ivy, until they reached it—

A narrow opening, partially hidden by vines and centuries of neglect. The corridor beyond was dim and cold, carved deep into the earth. And at the end of it... a single, sealed door.

They stood before it, the tension like a drawn bowstring.