The capital's walls were more than twice as tall as Lu Xingchen had imagined.

Gray-blue stone bricks caught the cold light of the setting sun. The city gate swarmed with traffic—light spirit wielders and shadowfolk passing shoulder to shoulder, expressions varied: wary, indifferent, deliberately averted. The Light Spirit Hall's insignia glinted on the gate guards' armor. On the other side, the shadowfolk council's water-pattern banner hung without a sound.

Everywhere you looked, the marks of two peoples sharing power—and keeping their distance.

"Stay close." Shen Ye's voice came from ahead, cool as if he were remarking on the weather.

Lu Xingchen quickened his pace. He realized, with some surprise, that he had already grown used to Shen Ye's rhythm—not too fast, not too slow, enough to see the road underfoot without falling behind. Three days ago they had been at each other's throats.

The capital's main street was wide enough for three carriages abreast, the flagstones worn smooth and bright. Shops lined both sides in dense rows—apothecaries run by light spirit wielders, shadow tea houses run by shadowfolk. A sign reading Spirit Vein Appraisal Office caught Lu Xingchen's eye. He was about to step closer when Shen Ye caught his wrist.

"Don't wander." Shen Ye released him, expression unchanged. "People from the Light Spirit Hall are waiting."

Lu Xingchen noticed Shen Ye's eyes flicker for an instant as he passed that shop, then settle back into their usual coldness. He did not press. He filed the detail away.

The Light Spirit Hall stood in the capital's eastern district—a cluster of luminous white buildings where sunlight seemed deliberately gathered, making the whole quarter almost painfully bright. The moment Lu Xingchen stepped inside, the jade pendant at his chest warmed slightly—a resonance of kindred power.

A white-haired elder waited in the hall. His eyes were clouded, yet when he looked at you they seemed to see through everything.

"Lu Xingchen. Dawnlight Town. House of Lu." The elder's voice was low. "You are the one I selected personally."

Lu Xingchen straightened. "Elder."

The elder nodded, but his gaze moved to Shen Ye behind him. For a moment the air seemed to freeze.

"Shen of the Shen family. The chairman's son." The elder spoke slowly. "I did not expect the council to send you for this mission."

Lu Xingchen went rigid.

The chairman's son?

He whipped around to look at Shen Ye—and found his face unchanged, as if this had nothing to do with him at all.

"Is there a problem?" Shen Ye's voice was flat. "The council and the Light Spirit Hall have a cooperation agreement. My selection is entirely reasonable."

The elder was silent a moment, then smiled. That smile made Lu Xingchen shiver without knowing why.

"Entirely reasonable," the elder repeated. "Good. Very good."

He turned back to Lu Xingchen, expression serious again. "Xingchen, this mission may be more dangerous than you know. You already understand the spirit vein disturbances. But the real trouble is—"

He paused, choosing his words.

"The source points deep into Shadowvale. That is shadowfolk heartland. An ordinary light spirit wielder cannot enter at all."

Lu Xingchen's heart sank. Shadowvale—the place where day and night blurred together, where rumor said those who entered did not return.

"So you need a guide." Shen Ye spoke, calm as if discussing someone else. "And I happen to know that place well."

The elder looked at Shen Ye. Something flickered in his eyes that Lu Xingchen could not read.

"One more thing." The elder's voice dropped. "Before you depart, you need to know—Shen Ye's father is Shen Yuan, chairman of the shadowfolk council."

Lu Xingchen stood frozen.

Shen Yuan. The highest power in the shadowfolk council, said to be unfathomably strong, revered among his people. And this cold, distant young man standing alone with no one paying him heed—was that man's son?

"Surprised?" Shen Ye's voice held a trace of something that might have been mockery. "Did you think a chairman's son would travel with attendants and glory at his back?"

Lu Xingchen said nothing.

Shen Ye turned and walked down the corridor. "The Light Spirit Hall gives you three days to prepare. We assemble at the east gate in three days."

His figure disappeared at the end of the hall—solitary, as if he had always been alone.

The elder watched that direction and sighed softly. "Xingchen, I don't know if pairing you with him was right or wrong. But remember one thing—"

His clouded eyes sharpened suddenly.

"Never forget what you are. You are a light spirit wielder. He is shadowfolk. In Shadowvale, he could take your life without effort."

Lu Xingchen's hands curled into fists.

When he left the Light Spirit Hall, the sun had already set. Lamps lit along the capital's streets, light and shadow magic weaving strange patterns in the air. Lu Xingchen walked through the crowd, but his mind was full of what he had just seen.

Shen Ye was the chairman's son—yet alone in the council?

Why had he saved him? At their first meeting he could have looked away.

And at the post station—had he truly proposed traveling together only because of the mission?

"Hey." A voice interrupted his thoughts.

Lu Xingchen looked up and realized he had wandered into a small square. By the fountain, Shen Ye stood with his back to the light, face unreadable.

"You're bad at walking," Shen Ye said. "You didn't even notice you'd lost me."

Lu Xingchen walked over. "Are you really Shen Yuan's son?"

Something moved in Shen Ye's eyes—as if he had not expected the question so directly.

"Yes." Short. Final. "That doesn't matter."

"Why?" Lu Xingchen pressed. "A chairman's son—why would you—"

"Why alone?" Shen Ye finished for him. The corner of his mouth twitched—mockery or bitterness, impossible to tell. "Because my mother was a serving maid. Because my face is too plain for the Shen legacy. Because in my father's eyes there is only my brother Shen Ming—the legitimate heir."

He said it all in a terrifyingly calm voice, as if recounting someone else's life.

Lu Xingchen fell silent.

He thought of his own home—the worn blacksmith's forge, parents who worked themselves raw, the old yellow dog that wagged its tail when he came back. No power there. No status. But people who waited for him to come home.

"I was attacked by shadowfolk when I was little," Lu Xingchen said suddenly.

Shen Ye's movement paused fractionally.

"My mother threw herself in front of me. Shadow cut several gashes into her." Lu Xingchen looked at the distant lamps. "That's why I've been afraid of shadowfolk my whole life."

Shen Ye said nothing.

"But I'm not afraid anymore." Lu Xingchen turned to him, serious. "Whether you're the chairman's son or shadowfolk—it makes no difference to me. You talk too little, your temper's terrible, and you keep telling me to stay close—"

"Enough." Shen Ye cut him off, brow furrowed, but not truly angry.

Lu Xingchen smiled, dimples appearing. "Come on. Didn't you say I have three days to prepare? Show me around the capital. Dinner's on me."

Shen Ye looked at him, gaze complicated.

"…Fine."

He did not refuse.

And that, already, was the best answer he could give.