The Dao of Thread and Root

The late afternoon sun painted the immense jade gates of the Imperial Palace with an orange hue. The wind blew weakly, carrying the coolness of approaching night across the empty square.

"You're lying," said Guard Wèi, widening his eyes under the bronze helmet. "Senior Sister Su Yīn agreed to accompany you? With you?"

Guard Bāo adjusted the shaft of his halberd, trying to hide the smug smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Is it that unbelievable?" Bāo shot back, lifting his chin. "As soon as I finish these extra shifts on gate duty, I'm going to try for a promotion to the Inner Palace Guard. She knows I have a future."

Wèi opened his mouth to crack another joke, but Bāo's attention shifted to the base of the great marble staircase.

A group of five people climbed the steps at a calm pace. Bāo's trained eyes assessed the newcomers. They were cultivators, undeniably well-dressed in excellent-cut silks, but their faces were unfamiliar in the capital.

At the center of the formation walked a tall man. A blonde woman walked with her arm linked through his, leaning against him in an intimate and lazy manner, as if strolling through her own private courtyard. The other three women followed spread around them: one with white hair and upright, formal posture; one with black hair who wore a lethargic smile; and the youngest, with short steps and a docile gaze.

The group stopped a few steps from the locked gates. The tall man said nothing, but the white-haired woman took a step forward.

"We have come to meet the fairies of the Twin-Faced Empire," she said, her voice polished and steady.

Bāo exchanged a glance with Wèi and gave a little chuckle, relaxing his shoulders, accustomed to young foreign masters trying to impress local courtesans.

"The Twin-Faced Empire has many fairies, madam," Bāo replied good-humoredly. "Which ones?"

The diplomat did not even blink.

"Master Healer Qīng Yǔ and Martial Fairy Huáng Bìyù."

Bāo's smile vanished in the same instant. Wèi straightened his spine and struck the ground with his halberd, blocking the path. Those were not courtesans; they were the legends of the younger generation.

"The fairies are not granting audiences," Bāo answered, his voice losing its casual tone and assuming the severe register of the imperial guard as he reassessed them: they were well dressed, but they brought no retinue or known crests. "You have not presented names nor do you possess a record of arrival. Do you have an invitation?"

The black-haired woman took a step forward. Her smile widened, calm, with a strangely sharp sweetness. She raised her hand, and a First-Class golden jade seal appeared between her fingers, reflecting the sunset.

"Ah, we have an invitation," the eldest said, her voice velvety and mild, gently swinging the jade plaque in the air. "Go call little Yǔ to receive us."

Bāo stared at the piece for a second, his mind working quickly. He was one step away from securing his promotion and was not about to ruin his career over a judgment error. Someone who carried a First-Class pass and called the Saint Healer by a diminutive was a risk impossible to ignore.

Slowly, he lowered the tip of the halberd and bowed his shoulders.

"Would the madam allow me to verify the seal?" Bāo asked, his voice now strictly formal.

The woman did not drop her docile smile; she merely opened her pale fingers, allowing him to take the plaque without resistance.

Bāo held the piece carefully, feeling the weight and the cold imperial engraving. He turned and extended the seal to Wèi, whispering urgently:

"Go to the inner ring," Bāo ordered, eyes locked on his colleague. "Find Master Healer Qīng Yǔ's personal guard and verify this directly with them. If the pass is confirmed, deliver the message exactly as she said it. Do not sugarcoat it, do not change a single word, and do not ask stupid questions. Go."

Wèi swallowed hard. He grabbed the jade plaque, turned his back, and shot off toward the inner courtyards.

Seconds later, the guardhouse door opened. A third guard stepped out adjusting his helmet and took the post, striking the ground with his halberd to restore the gate watch.

With the line reestablished, Bāo turned back to the outsiders with a trained and perfectly harmless smile.

"Please wait a moment," he said, the tone friendly and restrained. "I believe the ladies forgot to prepare a proper reception for such distinguished guests."

------

Guard Wèi ran across the marble courtyards until he skidded to a halt before the East Pavilion, stopping in front of two elite guards of the Qīngluán clan.

Panting, he held out the golden jade plaque with trembling hands.

"A group at the gates presented this seal," he stammered under the severe gazes of the guards, remembering the order not to change a single word. "The black-haired woman ordered the following message delivered: 'Go call little Yǔ to receive us.'"

The elite guard's eyes widened. Her hand dropped to the hilt of her sword, her face contorting with fury at the absurd insolence of the message.

"You worm! How dare you repeat—"

Bang.

The heavy cedar doors slamming against the stone cut off the threat.

Wèi took a startled step back. A blur of blue silk shot across the courtyard. The Saint Healer of the empire flew past the guards at such a desperate speed that the sheer gale of her passing nearly knocked Wèi to the ground. She did not even look back.

At the jade gates of the palace, Bāo maintained his polished smile for the outsiders, praying internally that Wèi would not take long to return with execution orders for those lunatics.

However, the sound of hurried, uneven footsteps echoed on the staircase.

Bāo turned his face and his jaw nearly dropped.

Qīng Yǔ stopped abruptly before the gates. The fairy's breathing was completely erratic, her full chest rising and falling hard beneath the blue silk. The always-immaculate face burned with a feverish red, thin beads of sweat trailing down the line of her neck.

Ignoring the paralyzing shock of the guards, the fairy's eyes locked onto the tall man at the center.

The karmic veil that Zhì Yuǎn projected hid his cosmic perfection, displaying only the ordinary face of a wealthy cultivator. It was that illusion that prevented Qīng Yǔ's knees from giving way right there, restoring a fraction of her reason. Yet her instincts were not blind: the imposing height and silent gravity of the man continued to scream to every nerve in her body that a divinity stood before her.

Her eyes flicked briefly over the four women around him, all under disguise. Qīng Yǔ did not dare analyze them for more than a second; every survival instinct forced her to lock her attention back on the man at the center.

Qīng Yǔ swallowed hard. Her hands trembled beneath the long sleeves as she bent her spine in a deep bow, shocking the guards.

"Senior… Ladies…" Qīng Yǔ's voice came out thin and breathless, struggling to recover composure in front of the guards. "I beg forgiveness for the delay. Your presence is an honor to the empire."

She straightened her torso, clasping her hands to hide the tremor, and opened a hospitable smile.

"Please, enter. The palace possesses beautiful ancient gardens that we would like to show you this late afternoon," Qīng Yǔ invited, her voice gaining firmness even as her heart continued hammering against her ribs. "I have already sent a servant in urgency to notify Huáng Bìyù. She will join us on the stroll shortly."

The immense jade gates closed with a dull thud, cutting off the wind of the square and the noise of the capital.

The interior of the Imperial Palace displayed the impeccable order of millennia of peace: crystal-clear lakes, silver willows, and white marble bridges.

Qīng Yǔ took the lead, guiding them along the path of pale stones, fighting to keep her own breathing measured.

Yù Méi stopped at the edge of the main lake and plunged her hand into the water with a quick strike. When she pulled it back, she held an enormous golden spiritual carp by the tail. The fish did not even struggle.

"Boring," the youngest grumbled, releasing the carp back into the water with a loud splash. "So tame they've forgotten how to fight."

Qīng Yǔ moistened her lips without stopping her walk.

"They are spiritual carp of the imperial lineage, madam," the healer answered, her tone hesitant. "Raised only for contemplation and the harmony of the garden."

Yù Qíng ran her fingers along the bridge railing, evaluating the carved white jade, but her eyes followed the flushed nape of Qīng Yǔ's neck.

"Imperial jade is valued for seeming cold and untouchable, little Yǔ," the eldest said, her voice calm and polite. "But experienced artisans know that this coldness is only a façade. All it takes is for the piece to stay near the right source of heat to lose all resistance and absorb the temperature of whoever dominates it."

Qīng Yǔ shuddered, feeling her face burn even hotter as she grasped the double meaning.

Before she could answer, metallic footsteps echoed on the bridge ahead.

Huáng Bìyù emerged from the willow corridor. The martial idol wore her practical copper-toned armor and carried the long sword at her waist. Her face was stained with a feverish flush, her breathing short, and her amber eyes wavered as they locked onto the group.

Bìyù stopped abruptly five steps away.

The primitive instinct of the Golden Dragon roared in the warrior's blood. Even under the karmic veil, the physical gravity of the man at the center made her knees weaken. Cold sweat slid beneath the metal collar, her entire body demanding that she drop the weapon and kneel.

Fighting against her own blood, she bent her spine in a rigid bow.

"Senior… Ladies," Bìyù's voice came out slightly hoarse. "Welcome to the Twin-Faced Palace. I beg forgiveness for my delay."

Mò Yán evaluated the sweating heroine with her formal and impeccable posture.

"There is no need for apologies, Miss Huáng," the diplomat said, the courteous tone hiding the irony. "The air in the capital seems unusually oppressive today. It is understandable that even the most trained warriors lose their breath and composure on a simple path."

Bìyù felt her face burn at the allusion, but etiquette and the pressure of the group suppressed any reply.

Bái Wǎn opened a docile smile, completing the conversation with a tone of pure innocence.

"Yes. My husband often says that running against a greater force only wastes energy," the young scholar commented. "Sometimes it is wiser simply to accept the pace of the walk and allow oneself to be guided."

The two fairies fell silent, cornered in their own garden.

Zhì Yuǎn stopped walking.

His gaze swept the decorated bridges and the serene lakes, losing interest in the landscape in less than three seconds.

"Let us stop the stroll for now," his rustic and practical voice echoed. "I spent the day accompanying my wives shopping through the capital and would like to… rest. Where is the pavilion you prepared?"

Qīng Yǔ immediately lowered her head, relieved to escape the provocations of his women.

"Just ahead, Senior. In the isolated inner courtyard," the Celestial Feather answered, quickening her step beside Bìyù.

The two fairies resumed the march side by side, their foreheads damp with sweat, silently leading the family through the heart of the empire.