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Chapter 5 - Beneath the Crimson Veil

The days passed in a strange stillness.

Yan Rui rarely saw others. The Cold Courtyard remained his prison, though no bars enclosed it. Servants came and went like shadows, eyes downcast, lips sealed.

But rumors drifted in through silence.

> The new offering speaks back to the Lord.

He walks untouched.

Perhaps the Lord has finally chosen.

Yan Rui didn't care for whispers. But he noticed the change in how the wind carried them.

Not fear. Not pity.

Curiosity.

---

It was nearing dusk when the summons came again. This time, not through a servant. A scroll, sealed in black wax, waited on his pillow when he returned from the garden.

The message was simple:

> Come to the Crimson Veil Pavilion. Alone.

Yan Rui hesitated. He had read enough of the past offerings to know what that place was.

It was where the Lord fed.

Where bodies vanished.

Where loyalty was tested.

---

The Crimson Veil stood apart from the palace — a pavilion suspended above a lotus lake, veiled in flowing red silks that danced with the wind. The entire structure shimmered like blood under moonlight.

Yan Rui stepped inside.

The room smelled of jasmine and old smoke.

Mo Jue waited on a dais of velvet cushions, draped in deep burgundy robes that slid off one shoulder — deliberately careless, dangerously seductive.

His eyes gleamed golden in the candlelight.

> "You came," he said. "Most hesitate at the threshold."

> "You called. I don't run."

Mo Jue's gaze sharpened. Not angry — intrigued.

> "You're still dressed like a guest," he said quietly. "This is the Veil. Here, you must shed what doesn't belong to this world."

Yan Rui stared at him. "I won't kneel."

Mo Jue tilted his head.

> "Then don't kneel."

He rose — smooth and silent — and descended the dais barefoot, the hem of his robe whispering across the floor.

When he stopped in front of Yan Rui, their shadows merged.

Mo Jue raised a hand and slowly unfastened the clasp at Yan Rui's collar. He didn't pull the robe off — just opened it enough for Yan Rui to feel the cold air on his chest. His fingers brushed over the skin, trailing a heat far more dangerous than fire.

> "You're not afraid of me," Mo Jue said. "But you should be."

> "And you're not used to being told no."

The corner of Mo Jue's mouth twitched — the closest thing he gave to a real smile.

> "You are the first in a hundred years to speak to me like this."

His hand hovered at Yan Rui's throat now, two fingers just under his jaw — the same place he touched in the bath. But this time, his thumb pressed gently against Yan Rui's pulse.

> "You tremble," Mo Jue whispered.

> "I'm alive."

Their eyes locked. The room pulsed with breath and silence.

Then, softly, Mo Jue leaned in — not with hunger, but with something stranger.

Something yearning.

> "You remind me of someone," he said.

> "One of your past offerings?"

> "No."

"Someone I buried before I became a god."

The words sank like stones into still water.

For the first time, Yan Rui saw it — not just power in Mo Jue's gaze, but weight. Regret. Something ancient.

He didn't step back.

And Mo Jue didn't kiss him.

He simply leaned his forehead against Yan Rui's — the touch unbearably intimate — and closed his eyes.

The silence was full of things neither of them had the language to name.

When he finally spoke, his voice was lower. Wounded.

> "You don't belong here," Mo Jue said. "But I won't let you leave."

Yan Rui whispered, "Then don't ask me to belong either."

---

Later, as he stepped back into the cold air outside the pavilion, Yan Rui's hands were shaking.

Not from fear.

From knowing he had touched something beneath the god's skin.

And it had touched him back.

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[End of Chapter 5]

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