The moon was high when the letter arrived — no seal, just a crimson ribbon binding it shut.

> “Come to the Frost Orchid Garden. Come alone.”

— X.

Yan Rui stared at the handwriting. Bold. Familiar.

The Frost Orchid Garden was rarely used — a sanctuary from the past, where no servants lingered and no god dared set foot. Legends said it once belonged to a mortal prince who died refusing the gods. His body was never found. The flowers never died.

It was the kind of place where silence watched you.

And still… Yan Rui went.

---

The garden was steeped in mist, petals glowing faintly under moonlight. A low wall surrounded the clearing, covered in symbols long erased by time. Wind chimes made from bones clinked softly in the breeze.

Xuan stood beneath a gnarled tree, dressed in robes of deep wine red, the color of old blood.

> “You came,” he said, not turning around.

> “You summoned me,” Yan Rui replied. “What do you want?”

> “Not what I want. What I remember.”

He faced Yan Rui then, and his expression… shifted. Not the cold sharp mask of a high official, but something far more dangerous: longing.

> “I knew you before the serpent did,” Xuan said quietly.

Yan Rui’s breath caught. “What are you talking about?”

Xuan stepped forward. Slowly. Like approaching something fragile. Or sacred.

> “Before you fell in love with Mo Jue… you were mine.”

---

The wind fell still.

Yan Rui blinked. His chest tightened, memories flickering in the dark — vague, shattered, and sharp.

Xuan’s gaze didn’t waver.

> “You don’t remember the garden of fire lilies,” he said, voice low. “Where you used to meet me in secret, before the priesthood took you.”

> “No…”

> “You don't remember the night you carved my name into the stone well?”

Yan Rui stumbled back.

> “You’re lying.”

> “Am I?” Xuan’s voice trembled — not with anger, but something more painful. “They erased me from your story, but I was there. I was the first who taught you what it meant to defy the gods. Before Mo Jue ever bled for you.”

---

Yan Rui turned away, but Xuan caught his wrist — not harshly, not like a captor, but like someone trying to hold onto a dream slipping through his fingers.

> “Why show yourself now?” Yan Rui asked. “Why hide all this time?”

> “Because I was loyal to a kingdom that murdered you.”

“Because I was a coward.”

His grip loosened, but his voice didn’t.

> “I thought Mo Jue would destroy you. But now I see... you’re still burning. Even in this life.”

He moved closer.

> “And maybe I want to burn with you again.”

---

Yan Rui’s heart pounded. Too much. Too fast.

His memories were still fragments. He didn’t know what to believe.

But Xuan’s gaze was unwavering. Haunted.

> “You’re dangerous,” Yan Rui whispered.

> “I always was,” Xuan replied. “You just used to like that.”

They stood close — barely breathing — the air between them straining.

And then—

A rush of wind.

A golden pulse.

Mo Jue appeared.

---

He stepped between them in a flash, hand outstretched, eyes glowing with restrained rage.

> “Touch him again,” Mo Jue said, voice like cracked obsidian, “and I will unmake you.”

Xuan smiled. Calm. Too calm.

> “Still possessive, I see. Still pretending the blood between you erases mine.”

> “You were nothing to him,” Mo Jue said. “A lesson he already forgot.”

> “Then why is he shaking?” Xuan asked softly.

Yan Rui stood behind Mo Jue, breath uneven, pulse thunderous.

The two powers faced off — god and mortal, history and grief, two obsessions twisted into different shapes.

> “He deserves the truth,” Xuan said. “Even if it comes from the wrong mouth.”

> “He will hear it from me,” Mo Jue growled. “Not from your regrets.”

And then he turned, gently pulling Yan Rui toward him — as if the entire garden might vanish if he didn’t.

> “Come,” Mo Jue said softly. “Before you forget who bled for you.”

Yan Rui hesitated only a second… then followed.

But as they walked away, he turned once — and Xuan was still standing beneath the frost tree, unmoving.

Waiting.

---

That night, back in the Cold Courtyard, Mo Jue poured a silver basin of water. From it rose a mirror made of memory.

> “You want to know the truth?” he asked.

Yan Rui nodded.

> “Then watch what you once were…”

And as the mirror shimmered, Yan Rui saw three figures in flame:

Himself. Mo Jue. And Xuan.

But only two walked away from the temple that burned.

---

End of Chapter 10