Su Ningyan stared at the flute in Lan Meishan's grasp, his gaze unusually cautious.
For a brief, absurd moment, he wondered if he had begun to fear the very thing he once relied on most.
The jade surface was wrapped in a gentle emerald glow, threads of purified qi flowing through it like quiet streams.
Ningyan did not move closer. Not yet.
"…You're cleansing it?" he asked, voice careful, as if speaking too loudly might provoke it.
"Mm." Meishan nodded.
His eyes flicked to Ningyan's expression, sharp, observant, lingering just a second longer.
Ningyan cleared his throat and stepped forward anyway.
The emerald glow dissipated at once.
Meishan extended the flute toward him.
Ningyan took it slowly as though expecting something to go wrong. Then his fingers tightened.
A pulse of deep violet qi surged from his palm, wrapping around the flute in a familiar, ominous glow.
His breath left him in a quiet exhale.
"…Alright," he muttered. "That's better."
