Chapter 107: Tea Party
The lantern’s light quivered between them, swaying gently as the breeze tugged at her sleeve. For an instant, the entire sect—the shattered courtyard, the whispers, the bruised egos—seemed to shrink away, leaving only two figures framed by moonlight and falling petals.
Tian Lei stopped before her. His blade was already sheathed, but the air around him still carried the resonance of battle, like thunderclouds lingering long after the storm. Yue Xin’s eyes softened, though the faint tremor in her hands betrayed what she had just witnessed.
"You..." she began, voice hushed, as if afraid it might shatter the silence. "You didn’t have to hold back like that. They would have—"
Tian Lei’s gaze lingered on the lantern flame, then lifted to her. Calm, steady. "I did not draw my sword to win. I drew it to remind them."
Her lips pressed together. She wanted to argue, to tell him the sect was cruel, that mercy would only make him a greater target. But when she saw the stillness in his eyes—the kind of stillness that even fire and steel could not break—the words died in her throat.
The crowd had begun to thin, whispers trailing like smoke in the wind. Some disciples bowed in quiet respect before slipping away. Others fled quickly, too shaken to linger in his presence. Yet Yue Xin did not move. She stood there, holding the lantern aloft, as though determined to be the last light on his path.
Finally, Tian Lei stepped forward, past her, into the glow she carried.
For a heartbeat, as his shoulder brushed the faint halo of her lantern, the world felt oddly fragile. Her breath caught—not because of the fight, not because of the storm that had just shaken the sect—but because of the simple weight of his presence beside her.
He spoke only once more before the silence reclaimed him:
"Thank you for waiting."
The words were quiet, almost an afterthought, yet they struck deeper than any blade. Yue Xin blinked, startled, then lowered her lantern slightly, a faint smile curving her lips.
Together, they walked back toward the cave, the faint crunch of gravel beneath their steps the only sound. Behind them, the courtyard lay broken, but ahead—bathed in the pale glow of moonlight and lantern light—was something else.
Not peace, perhaps. Not safety. But something rare, and infinitely harder to protect.
A fragile stillness, born not of silence, but of understanding.
The nights that followed blurred into a rhythm of lantern walks, koi rippling beneath still water, and quiet words traded in the hush between dusk and dawn. Yue Xin lingered longer each evening, and Tian Lei never told her to leave.
Yet even such fragile days could not last.
At dawn, a messenger disciple arrived outside Tian Lei’s cave, bowing low.
"The Sect Master requests your presence. Alone."
The summons carried no explanation. None was needed.
By dusk, Tian Lei stood before the inner garden cave.
This place was unlike the stone courts or sparring fields of the sect. Vines hung like draped curtains over the entrance, swaying with lantern light. Beyond lay a pond rimmed with jade, its surface so still it mirrored the falling petals. At its center rested a white-wood gazebo, lanterns floating around it like stars caught on water.
Mu Qinxue, the Sect Master, sat within. Her robes were plain, unadorned, yet her presence pressed the air flat, heavy as winter frost. Beside her sat Master Shen, Tian Lei’s teacher, his eyes half-closed as though all the world could wait upon the slow curl of steam rising from the teapot before him.
Between them lay a single tray: porcelain cups, empty, their silence heavier than words.
Tian Lei crossed the bridge, each step echoing against the pond. He bowed low.
"Disciple Tian Lei greets the Sect Master. Greets Master."
Mu Qinxue studied him, her gaze calm yet sharp, as if weighing not his posture, but the marrow of his spirit. "You came."
Her voice was soft, yet it carried the quiet steel of command. "Do you know why I called you here?"
Tian Lei did not answer. It was not a question for him to presume upon.
Master Shen’s lips curved faintly as he poured tea, the steam curling upward like incense. "A sect is like this tea. Cultivated with care, it is fragrant. Scorched in haste, it is bitter. Once spilled, it cannot be brewed again."
The cups filled, but none were lifted.
Tian Lei studied her quietly.
"...Master, did you eat something bad today?" he asked.
Mu Qinxue arched a brow, lips curving into a faint, mischievous smile. "Why do you ask?"
"You seem... different," he replied evenly. "As though you were sulking a little when I came in."
Her lips pressed together, silent for a moment, before her playful mask returned. "Well, sometimes I sulk, sometimes I tease. Depends on whether I feel like it."
Tian Lei’s gaze lingered. "Earlier, though—you looked more serious than usual."
"Did I?" She tilted her head, still smiling, refusing to confirm. Then, as though brushing it aside, she waved a hand. "Anyway, I called you here for a reason. There will soon be another of the sect’s yearly gatherings—the Heart Tea Party. It isn’t just a simple tea party, Tian Lei. Most of the time it’s considered the true stage of the sect’s younger generation."
Her tone softened slightly, though her smile never faded. "Until now, I never had a disciple qualified to attend. But since you are mine, you will go."
Tian Lei lowered his eyes to the steaming cup before him, then looked back up. "...So I have no choice, then?"
"None at all," she said, her voice calm, her teasing eyes sharp.
Tian Lei’s brows drew together. "What exactly is this Heart Tea Party?"
Mu Qinxue leaned back slightly, swirling her cup though she never drank. "Nothing too complicated. It’s merely a sect event... but one where everyone’s eyes weigh who belongs and who does not. They’ll measure strength, presence, even the smallest slip."
He gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable. "So it is just that."
Her lips curved again, but this time without laughter. "Just that," she echoed softly.
Silence stretched between them, the faint steam from the untouched tea curling in the air. At length, Tian Lei asked, "Where will it be held?"
"The Misty Azure Reed City," Mu Qinxue replied. Her tone lowered, almost reverent. "It is where the once-great empire fell... and the home of the Mist Azure Divine Land."
Tian Lei’s gaze lingered on her, the weight of her words not lost on him. "...I see."
"The Mist Azure Divine Land..." Tian Lei repeated slowly, as though testing the name on his tongue. "I’ve heard fragments. A land that rejects the unworthy."
Mu Qinxue’s smile deepened, though her eyes remained unreadable. "Fragments are all most ever grasp. The Divine Land is not merely a place—it is the sect that stands highest in this realm. Its disciples rule from within veils and illusions, and the city at its foot survives only by their shadow. This year, the Heart Tea Party falls under their hosting."
"And the sect’s disciples compete there?" he asked.
"Not openly," she corrected, tapping the rim of her cup. "But the contest never stops. Words, gazes, gestures—every movement is measured. If your step falters, someone else will claim the ground beneath it."
Tian Lei lowered his head briefly, then raised it again. "So it’s less a tea party... and more a battlefield of smiles."
A quiet laugh slipped from her. "Exactly. I knew you would understand."
His eyes, calm and sharp, lingered on her face. "And you... what is it you expect me to win there?"
Mu Qinxue tilted her head, teasing smile returning like a veil of silk. "I expect you to win nothing. Only to make them realize what they cannot touch."
Mu Qinxue let the silence stretch before her gaze softened, the teasing glint never quite leaving her eyes. "And how," she asked lightly, "is your... companionship with Yue Xin faring?"
Tian Lei blinked once, then inclined his head. "Good," he said simply.
Her smile curved sharper. "Good? That is all? You’re not the type to waste words, but even you should know—she has begun to open her heart to you. That is not something the Yue bloodline gives freely."
Tian Lei’s hand brushed the porcelain cup, though he still did not drink. "Opening one’s heart often means closing off the path of retreat," he murmured. "And when death stands close, it tempts people to reach faster, cling tighter. That may not be love—it may only be fear."
Mu Qinxue studied him in silence. "And yet you accept it."
A faint breath escaped him, neither laugh nor sigh. "I accept her honesty. Whatever name it carries—fear, or something more—I will not trample it."
Her lips curved once more, but this time it was less of a smile and more of a knowing line. "Spoken like a man who has already been marked by someone else’s death."
Tian Lei said nothing, his eyes as still as a sealed lake. Only the steam rising from the tea moved between them, carrying unspoken truths neither chose to name.