Dawn arrived without warmth.
A thin wash of grey light clung to the waystation walls before fully breaking. Somewhere beyond the timber, a rooster called.
People began to wake up to the sound and the rays.
The boy who had caused the trouble sat in the corner of the common room and avoided eyes.
Suddenly, The door opened sharply. The High‑Crag girl stood at the entrance, “Steward Zhao summons you.”
The boy rose first.
Yan followed.
Steward Zhao stood by the left window of his quarters, hands folded behind his back. He did not turn when they entered.
The two youths stopped several steps inside.
“The world requires correction,” Zhao said.
Neither spoke.
Zhao turned from the window.
“You,” he said, fixing his gaze on the boy. “You almost went berserk"
The boy lowered his head. His hands trembled once before stilling.
“The spiritual line resides upon the soul,” Zhao continued. “It is said to be fixed at birth. Limited.”
A pause.
“Most believe it cannot be altered.”
He stepped closer.
“The tonic was not medicine.”
Silence settled into the room.
Then his eyes shifted to Yan.
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“And You.”
Yan kept his breathing even.
“You are suitable.”
Zhao studied him for a moment longer than necessary, and said, “ I will be looking forward to the future, and You”
Yan did not react.
Zhao then went back to his original position.
“Do well in the sect, don't worry about Yesterday, everything is good"
" I just called you to tell you this, you can leave now.” Zhao said.
They bowed and stepped out.
Inside the room, Zhao returned to the window. His fingers tapped once against the wooden frame.
The corridor felt narrower than it had the night before.
“That was close,” the boy muttered, exhaling slowly. “I thought he would punish us”
“He won’t,” Yan said.
“What makes you certain?”
Yan paused.
“He tested us.”
“And?”
“He needs results.”
The boy glanced sideways at him.
“You speak like you understand him.”
Yan did not answer.
After a few steps, the boy extended his hand.
“I’m Ren.”
Yan looked at the hand, then at the face.
“Yan.”
“Just Yan?”
“Yes.”
“That suits you.”
“And Ren?”
“It was my grandfather’s.”
Yan nodded once. He did not take the offered hand. Ren lowered it without comment.
They walked together around the waystation.
Then Ren spoke again.
“I’ve been thinking.”
Yan waited.
“They called you a monster in the village.”
Yan didn’t respond.
Ren’s gaze dropped briefly.
“…they called you rot.”
The floorboards creaked beneath Yan’s boots.
“Is there a reason?” Ren asked.
“They fear what they don’t understand,” Yan said.
Ren was quiet for a moment.
“I almost believed them.”
Yan said nothing.
“Then last night,” Ren continued, voice lower, “you stepped back.”
Yan’s fingers tightened briefly at his side.
“It wasn’t necessary.”
Ren shook his head.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Yan turned slightly.
“You could have—”
Ren stopped.
“…you didn’t.”
He looked back up.
Yan’s voice remained level.
“I chose not to.”
Ren studied him.
“That’s a choice.”
Yan did not respond.
“If you were a monster… you wouldn’t hesitate.”
Yan didn’t answer immediately.
“Monsters hesitate,” he said.
Ren frowned. “That doesn’t—”
He stopped. Tried again.
“Then what makes one?”
Yan’s gaze didn’t shift.
“…finishing.”
Ren was quiet.
“So you didn’t.”
Yan said nothing.
Silence stretched down the corridor.
“They’re wrong,” Ren said at last.
“You’re not rot.”
A beat.
“You’re not a monster.”
He looked directly at Yan.
“You’re as human as everyone.”
Yan slowed.
For the smallest fraction of a second, he stopped.
Then he continued walking.
The words followed him.
You’re as human as everyone.
I am not.
The thought was immediate. Unwelcome.
He did not speak it.
But it remained.