The silence after the battle was worse than the fight itself.

Dozens of eyes bore into me as if they could see the bond pulsing beneath my skin — that faint shimmer of qi that still linked me to Ji Ming. It took everything in me not to flinch beneath the weight of it.

Master Jian Yue’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
“White Lotus Hall… step forward.”

I obeyed. My knees felt light, my hands too steady for the storm inside me. Across the field, Ji Ming remained motionless, his sabers crossed before him in silent salute.

A show of respect…  or defiance, even I couldn’t tell.

“You risked alliance blood,” the master said quietly. “Explain yourself.”

I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat. What could I say? That an assassin’s strike had forced our hands? That our souls had resonated by chance, not choice?

The truth was simpler, more dangerous: We had saved each other.

Before I could speak, Elder Fang from Sky Wolf Gate strode forward, his robes dark as stormclouds. “White Lotus tricks again,” he sneered. “A healer who hides martial skill, a duel turned to spectacle, and now… this.”

His gaze flicked toward Ji Ming. “Tell me, heir of Sky Wolf, did you forget your vows so soon?”

Ji Ming’s eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. “I acted to preserve life. Nothing more.”

Fang’s laugh was cold. “Preserve life? You revealed a forbidden bond before two sects and the trade clans! The last time such resonance appeared, it ended in fire and disgrace!”

A murmur rippled through the spectators.

Shuangxin. The word carried curses with it.

Master Jian Yue’s hand lifted. “Enough.” Her eyes, sharp as silver needles, turned toward me. “You will remain confined to Lotus Hall until the sect council convenes. As for you, Ge Ji Ming—”

“I accept judgment,” he said, voice steady. “But if you punish her, punish me too. The bond is shared.”

A gasp rippled through the disciples. I wanted to shout at him… to deny it, to sever the thread before it strangled us both. But it was too late.

The master’s gaze flicked between us. Then she said, “So be it.”

The decision struck like thunder: We were to be judged together.

That night, the rain began.

I sat beneath the eaves of the meditation hall, listening to the petals of the courtyard lotus trees fall one by one into the pond. Every drop sounded like a heartbeat too loud.

In the distance, I saw Ji Ming standing in the rain, still as stone, his sabers unbuckled at his side. The torchlight shimmered on his soaked robes, navy darkened to black, silver threads almost invisible.

He did not move. Neither did I.

Between us, I could still feel it, faint, but undeniable. The resonance hum, like the breath of the moon itself.

It was not gone.

From the shadows, a lantern flared. Kang Ya Zhen stepped into the light, vermilion robes glistening with rain. Her fan rested against her shoulder, closed this time.

“I warned you,” she said softly. “Now both sects will bleed for your defiance.”

She looked at Ji Ming, then at me. For the first time, her calm cracked… not anger, but something close to pity.

“Hide your bond, if you can. The Council will not be merciful.”

Her lantern light trembled, then vanished into the storm.

And I was left with one truth that felt heavier than any blade: The petals had begun to fall.