*****

“We’re here,” Jinjing said softly as we stepped inside the restaurant where she and that man had arranged for this meeting.

The air was warmer inside, filled with the aromas of spiced dishes and the faint hum of quiet conversation. My poor vision made it difficult to see beyond the soft shadows cast by dim lanterns, but I could make out the general shapes of tables and chairs around us.

A tall, lanky silhouette approached swiftly. His steps were light, deliberate. “Is it Mister Wei?” the man asked.

I nodded faintly. “It is.”

“My name is Jia Xing,” he said, his tone polite yet formal. “I am the manager of this establishment. Lord Lan is waiting for you upstairs.”

Lord Lan.

Finally, a name—though it offered little relief. The title "Lord" suggested he was a man of significant status, perhaps noble or at least influential. The thought made my chest tighten. If he had wealth and power, reaching across borders to Kan Empire would be no challenge for him. My safety, already fragile, felt as though it could be shattered with a single word from him.

Taking a slow, discreet breath, I tried to calm myself. Jinjing didn’t need to see my unease. She had done so much already, and the last thing I wanted was for her to feel guilt for dragging me here.

“This way, please,” Jia Xing said, motioning toward a staircase.

The upper level was even darker than the ground floor. The lanterns here barely illuminated the space, leaving the silhouettes of the two servants who greeted us as indistinct shadows. Their voices were polite, murmuring greetings, which I returned instinctively, though I wasn’t sure if I was bowing in the right direction.

“This way,” Jia Xing urged again.

I hesitated. The dimness of the space made it almost impossible for me to see anything beyond vague shapes. My anxiety grew with each passing moment. What if I stumbled or bumped into something? What if I embarrassed myself in front of this man?

Sensing my hesitation, Jinjing gently took my hand. Her grip was steady, reassuring, and it grounded me. With her silent support and the guidance of my stick, I managed to follow Jia Xing without incident.

Finally, we stopped. Jia Xing pulled aside a curtain, and through the dim light, I could see the outline of a man seated comfortably at the table.

Even with my limited sight, his presence was unmistakable.

The frame of his body—the broad shoulders, the imposing posture—confirmed what I already knew. This was the same man who had confronted us the other night.

Who else could it be?

There were few men anywhere, even in Kan Empire, who carried themselves with such a commanding presence. He wasn’t overly muscular, not like the men I had encountered in the Northern regions of the continent. Yet his physique was formidable, a balance of strength and agility. Combined with his towering height, he exuded an aura of power that demanded attention.

“Lord Lan, your guest has arrived,” Jia Xing announced.

The man didn’t respond immediately. He remained seated, silent, as though waiting for me to make the first move.

My heart pounded, my palms cold despite the warmth of the room. Taking a moment to steady myself, I folded my hands before my chest and bowed deeply. “Greetings, Lord Lan,” I said, keeping my voice calm and steady.

Still, he said nothing.

Jia Xing moved to pull out a chair for me, but I didn’t sit. Where I was raised, etiquette dictated that a woman should always sit first in the presence of men. Turning to Jinjing, I gestured toward the seat.

“Take the seat,” I said gently.

“Fan,” she whispered, her tone tinged with hesitation. “I cannot sit with you here. I’m not worthy.”

“What do you mean you’re not worthy?” I asked, frowning.

“You already know,” she replied softly, her voice laden with embarrassment. “Because of my… previous profession.”

I shook my head, refusing to accept her reasoning. “But you promised to accompany me.”

“I did accompany you,” she said, her words quiet and careful. “But I cannot sit at the same table as two respectable gentlemen. It’s not appropriate, considering my… reputation.”

Before I could respond, Jia Xing interjected. “Miss, your table is just over there.”

“I won’t be far,” Jinjing assured me, her tone warm but firm, before following Jia Xing to a separate seating area.

The curtain fell closed behind her, leaving the room heavy with silence.

Now, I was alone with him.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. The quiet was suffocating, the absence of Jinjing’s presence amplifying my unease.

Slowly, I lowered myself into the chair Jia Xing had pulled out earlier.

My stick rested across my lap, and I gripped it tightly, the smooth bamboo grounding me in the tension-filled room. It felt as though I had stepped willingly into a trap, but I couldn’t turn back now.

If I had thrown myself into a tiger’s den, I could only hope the tiger wasn’t hungry.

The man sighed at last. From the position of his silhouette, I could tell he was leaning casually against the table, his elbow propped up and his chin resting on his palm. He had been watching us with a quiet, almost lazy indifference, as if observing a spectacle that barely held his interest.

“If I wanted to harm you,” he said, his deep voice slicing through the silence, “do you think that woman could do anything to stop me?”

His words hung heavily in the air, leaving me to wonder if they were meant as a threat. I took a moment to steady myself, clenching my hand lightly around the bamboo stick resting across my lap. “It’s not for that reason,” I replied carefully. “It’s just that I feel more comfortable when she’s beside me.”

He sighed again, though this time there was a trace of exasperation in the sound. “Just as she said, she’s not supposed to sit with us.”

“I’m just a commoner,” I countered. “I hardly have any reputation left to speak of. If she doesn’t deserve to sit with his lordship, then I don’t either.”

He chuckled, a low and rumbling sound that made my chest tighten. “Divine Mage High Priest Wei Fan,” he said, the mocking tone in his voice unmistakable, “Grandmaster of Ethereal Frost Sect.”

His words felt like a slap, a deliberate reminder of the identity I had lost.

“You misunderstand me,” he continued smoothly. “We are men, and she is a woman. She is married to neither of us, nor is she a relative. If she sits with us, it gives people the wrong impression. But don’t worry,” he added dismissively, “I’ve already arranged for her to be taken care of. The owner has been instructed to cater to her every need. She won’t be bored.”

I could see the logic in his reasoning, but I didn’t like how he addressed me, nor the ease with which he dismissed Jinjing. “I’m no longer a priest or a disciple of any sect,” I said firmly. “You can just call me by my name.”

“Isn’t that a bit disrespectful to a seventh-level cultivator?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned politeness. “Only a handful ever make it to the grandmaster level. You deserve the utmost respect.”

I stiffened, the heat of frustration rising in my chest. “Lord Lan, since you seem to know my name so well, I’m sure you’ve also heard of my downfall. There’s no need to rub salt into my wounds.”

His laugh was deep and unsettling, a sound that seemed to resonate from some dark abyss. “Ah, Wei Fan,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Not long ago, your sect was the talk of the martial arts world. They were all waiting for the elusive Divine Mage to surpass his master. And indeed, it happened. So tell me, what could have driven you to poison him after achieving the pinnacle of cultivation?”

I swallowed hard, the heat now creeping across my face. His words cut deep, reopening old wounds I had tried so desperately to close. But I held my anger in check. After everything I had endured, swallowing insults had become second nature.

“I came here because you told my wife that you had something important to discuss with me,” I said, my tone even, though the effort to remain calm weighed heavily on me.

The table suddenly shook as he slammed his hand down against its surface, hard enough to make the plates and bowls rattle.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. What had provoked his sudden outburst?

“If you keep referring to that whore as your wife,” he said, his voice low and threatening, “we can end this discussion right now.”

I stared at him—or rather, at the shadowy outline of his form—completely taken aback. His anger over such a small word seemed wildly disproportionate. Even if he didn’t believe Jinjing was my wife, why should it matter to him so much?

I took a deep breath. If not for Jinjing’s debt, I would have walked out already. “Then, Lord Lan, please proceed.”

He smirked, a faint curve of his lips that I could sense more than see, and poured tea into a cup. “The tea here is excellent. You should try it,” he said, his tone suddenly calm and pleasant. He placed the cup deliberately in front of me.

I hesitated. His sudden shift in mood was jarring, as though the earlier outburst had never happened. I couldn’t help but wonder if this man suffered from some mental instability.

“Thank you,” I said politely, lifting the cup. I held it briefly, but I couldn’t bring myself to drink from it.

“What’s wrong?” he taunted, his voice laced with amusement. “Afraid I’ve poisoned the tea?”

My fingers tightened around the cup as I swallowed nervously. His perceptiveness was unsettling, cutting through my guarded demeanor with ease.

I had been through too much to trust a stranger, especially one as enigmatic as this man. Jinjing had earned my trust only because her kindness seemed genuine, without ulterior motives. She had helped me without knowing who I was, expecting nothing in return.

But this man… he knew me. Perhaps too well. And that made him dangerous.

“Lord Lan, if you don’t mind, I have a question,” I said cautiously.

“Then ask,” he replied, his tone still unnervingly casual.

“I was secluded from the rest of the world from a young age. Not even half the disciples of Frost Mountain had ever seen me. How did you figure out who I am?”

He smirked again, a soundless gesture that I could feel in the way his body shifted. “A-Fan,” he said, drawing out the name as though it were a term of endearment. “How could you forget me so easily? To think I was the one who saved your life.”

I frowned, my grip tightening on my stick. He had just called me “A-Fan,” a name only those close to me had ever used. Did that mean I had known him once but failed to recognize his voice? And what did he mean by saving my life?