Chenwei's hand tightened on his sword hilt as they entered the clearing. Standing there, defiant and unyielding, was Lianyi's fiancée, her back straight, her expression set in lines of anger and defiance. Beside her lounged a man Chenwei had never seen before—a rough-looking cultivator with a mocking smile and a loose, arrogant stance, as if this whole situation were nothing more than entertainment to him.
For a moment, Lianyi simply stared, his face pale with shock and confusion. Then he took a step forward, his voice shaking. "Xinyi?"
The woman—Xinyi, Chenwei noted, filing the name away—turned sharply, her eyes flashing with irritation as she took in their arrival. Her gaze shifted to the veiled handmaiden standing a few paces behind them, and her mouth twisted into a look of betrayal.
"You brought him here?" she demanded, her tone laced with anger. "I told you to explain things, not to drag him along like… like this!"
The handmaiden inclined her head, her tone smooth and deferential, but carrying a hint of quiet defiance. "Forgive me, mistress, but I could not stand by and watch you throw away your future over a… moment of foolishness. This is not only about you—it's your family's honor at stake."
Xinyi's eyes hardened, her expression a mix of fury and something close to desperation. "You had no right to interfere."
Lianyi's gaze flicked between them, his face growing paler by the second. "Xinyi… what is going on?" He gestured to the stranger beside her, his voice strained. "Why are you… with him?"
The stranger—clearly a rogue cultivator by his rough clothing and unkempt demeanor—smirked, stepping closer to Xinyi as if to make his claim clear. He put an arm around her shoulders in a casual, possessive gesture, his smirk widening as he met Lianyi's stricken gaze.
"Oh, she didn't tell you?" The rogue's voice dripped with mocking amusement. "Poor Young Master Zhou, arriving only to learn the truth. Your little bride-to-be is leaving you. For me."
Chenwei's blood boiled at the sight, every instinct screaming that this man was a threat. Everything about him—the smug grin, the way he stood far too close to Xinyi, the disdain in his eyes—seemed designed to provoke. And Lianyi, visibly shaken, looked as if he were struggling just to stand his ground.
"Xinyi," Lianyi's voice broke, barely more than a whisper. "Is this true?"
Xinyi hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering, and Chenwei thought he saw a brief flash of regret. But then she lifted her chin, her expression hardening into defiance. "Yes. It's true."
Lianyi took a step back, his face stricken. "But… I love you," he managed, his voice filled with pain and disbelief.
Xinyi's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Your love is suffocating," she snapped, her voice sharp. "Everyone tells me how lucky I am. My parents, my friends, the sect elders—everyone says how fortunate I am to be promised to Zhou Lianyi. How considerate, how attentive you are. How I should be grateful."
She took a step closer, her eyes blazing. "But what about me, Lianyi? What I feel? What I want? Has that ever mattered to you? Or am I just another trophy to make you look even more perfect, even more noble?"
Lianyi's face twisted with hurt, his hands trembling as he reached for words. "If you felt this way… why didn't you tell me?"
Xinyi scoffed, her voice dripping with scorn. "Tell you? And say what, exactly? That I feel nothing for you, that your 'love' is a cage I never asked for?" Her gaze didn't waver, each word cutting deeper. "I'm not your love, Lianyi. I'm just a pretty possession, meant to complete your ideal life."
Chenwei could feel the weight of her words settle like stones around Lianyi, watching as his friend's heart seemed to break right before his eyes. But something didn't feel right—there was a harshness to her tone, an edge that felt… too deliberate, almost rehearsed. His gaze shifted to the rogue, who stood watching with a smug smile, clearly relishing every moment of Lianyi's pain.
Wen spoke then, his voice calm, each word cold as a winter breeze. "Miss LIn, are you certain this is the path you wish to take? The wild may look beautiful to a songbird, but it is… unforgiving. A songbird rarely survives outside its cage."
Chenwei tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. That tone—soft, smooth, edged with a hidden threat—was one he recognized all too well. It was the voice of the future Wen Yuhan, the man who would go on to destroy entire sects with a few well-chosen words. Even here, it seemed, Wen could wield kindness like a knife, veiled threats hidden behind a mask of concern.
The rogue laughed, pulling Xinyi closer, his eyes gleaming with disdain. "She'll be safe enough with me," he sneered, casting a scornful glance at Lianyi. "I, at least, am man enough to protect her. And keep her satisfied." His lip curled as he looked Lianyi up and down, his tone mocking. "Unlike certain silk-pants young masters."
Chenwei's grip tightened on his sword, his rage flaring. This rogue—whoever he was—was clearly trying to provoke Lianyi, to push him into a fight. And Lianyi, torn and hurt, looked as though he might take the bait.
The handmaiden stepped forward, her voice gentle and coaxing as she addressed Lianyi. "Young Master, perhaps… it would be best to let her go." Her tone was soft, but Chenwei sensed something off in her gaze, a glint of calculation that seemed at odds with her sympathetic words. "After all, think of the memories you shared, all the moments you spent together. It seems as if there is still… something left."
The rogue's eyes flashed with irritation, his hand tightening on Xinyi's shoulder. "If there's anything still between them, then perhaps the noble Young Master Zhou should prove his worth." He smirked, clearly reveling in the chaos. "Are you truly going to let me walk away with your fiancée, Zhou Lianyi?"
Lianyi's expression twisted, torn between heartbreak and fury, his hands shaking as he looked from Xinyi to the rogue, as if trying to decide whether to draw his sword or turn away. Chenwei's heart sank. This is what they want, he realized, his mind racing. They've drawn him into a trap, one that he can only escape by fighting.
The handmaiden's gaze shifted, her expression tinged with pity. "Young Master, he has insulted you. Insulted your family. Are you truly going to let him mock the honor of the Zhou name like this?"
That was it—Chenwei felt the pieces fall into place, his mind sharpening with certainty. This is all part of Wen's plan. The rogue, the handmaiden, even Xinyi's defiance—all of it was designed to lead Lianyi here, to drive him into a fight he wasn't prepared for.
Chenwei took a breath, his grip on his sword tightening. When faced with a knot this tangled, there's only one way to untangle it. He would cut through it, expose Wen's twisted scheme for what it was.
Chenwei stepped forward, drawing his sword in a single, fluid motion. "A man who steals another's fiancée is beneath a young master's honor," he said coldly, his voice ringing through the clearing. "But I'll deal with this cad myself."
The rogue turned, his smirk widening as he took in Chenwei's stance, his own hand going to his weapon. "Oh? The little lapdog wants a bite?" he sneered, drawing his sword with a flourish. "By all means, let's see if you've got any teeth."
Lianyi made a move as if to intervene, his face twisted with panic. "Chenwei, no! This is my fight—my honor!"
Chenwei shook his head, his eyes never leaving the rogue. "Your honor's been insulted enough, Fourth Young Master. Allow me to put this rogue in his place."
Wen's voice came from behind, a quiet approval laced in his tone. "Very well, Junior Brother Li. Show us what you're made of."
Chenwei felt a flicker of unease at Wen's encouragement, a sick sense that he was walking directly into another of Wen's traps. But no—this was his choice. He had chosen to intervene, to disrupt Wen's plan and protect Lianyi from this twisted snare.
The rogue laughed, his sword gleaming in the morning light as he took a fighting stance. Chenwei raised his own blade, focusing on the weight of it in his hands, the familiar strength surging through him as he prepared to strike.
As he faced down the rogue, he allowed himself one last thought: This time, I'll be the one to cut through the shadows.