Mornings in the Crimson Court were never quiet. The air itself hummed with whispers of silk against stone, quills scratching parchment, and the breath of courtiers scheming before breakfast.

We were summoned before the ninth bell.

Kang Ya Zhen waited at the entrance of the Jade Pavilion, already dressed in her formal robes of crimson and gold. Her fan snapped shut as we approached. “Lord Wen has requested a demonstration of loyalty,” she said evenly. “You will not refuse.”

“What kind of demonstration?” Ji Ming asked, as he furrowed his brow.

“The kind that reminds the Court you are still alive because it allows it.” She said as she led us inside.

The hall shimmered with incense and light. Dozens of officials sat on the tiers, their robes like petals in a poisoned bloom. Lord Wen reclined upon the upper dais, smiling the way only the way serpents do when they already have the mouse.

“Ah,” he said, “our honored guests from the sects. I hear you share a single heartbeat. Perhaps you will let us hear how it sounds.”

Servants rolled out a stand draped in silk. Upon it rested a single jade vial, bound with talisman seals. “The elixir of submission,” he said, voice dripping with malice. “A harmless tonic, of course. You will drink it together. If the bond between you is pure, neither of you will fall.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd… half curiosity, half hunger.

Ji Ming’s jaw tightened. “And if it is not?”

“Then, I guess, we will learn something valuable.”

Ya Zhen’s fan flicked open, hiding her expression. Her eyes met mine above the lacquered edge. Don’t show fear.

I stepped forward first. “I accept.”

The vial was cold against my palms. Its liquid gleamed faintly red, like diluted blood. Ji Ming took it from me without a word, broke the seal, and drank. I followed.

The taste was metallic, rain mixed with copper, and the echo of lightning storms.

For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the world tilted. My vision fractured into shards of gold and white. Somewhere beyond the blur, Ji Ming staggered and caught my shoulder. Our qi tangled: wild, frantic, alive.

I heard someone gasp. Another voice muttered, “Impossible—”

Light burst between us, silver and crimson intertwined. The floor trembled. The talismans across the hall flickered, unable to contain it.

When the glow faded, we were both still standing. The vial lay shattered at our feet, empty.

Lord Wen rose slowly, applause soft as rain. “How touching. The bond truly exists.”

His smile sharpened. “Then perhaps you’ll have no trouble proving obedience again. The Court favors loyal hounds.”

Outside, the corridor spun with murmurs. Some called it a miracle, while others whispered “abomination”.

Ya Zhen walked ahead of us, fan closed, voice low. “You’ve made yourselves invaluable,” she said. “And nothing here is more dangerous than being valuable.”

Ji Ming exhaled. “He wanted us to die.”

She looked back, eyes glinting. “Well of course, but now he can’t… not without wasting his new spectacle.”

The corridors of the Crimson Court gleamed with sunlight, but all I saw was the reflection of crimson on marble, and the faint shimmer of our bond, burning brighter than before.