The palace roofs were cold beneath his bare feet.
Ningyan sat atop the highest pavilion overlooking the hidden Phoenix clan below while night winds drifted through his long white hair.
Above him stretched endless stars.
The crescent moon hung silently between drifting clouds.
For a long while, Ningyan simply stared upward.
Then a black-red glow swirled into existence above his palm.
Dark spiritual pressure pulsed outward.
And within that glow, a red gold flute materialized quietly in his grasp.
Ningyan blinked.
The flute was exquisite. Its surface shimmered with gold inscriptions that almost seemed alive beneath the moonlight.
"…Where did this come from?" he murmured softly.
His fingers brushed against the instrument curiously.
Then slowly, Ningyan lifted the flute toward his lips and paused.
His gaze lowered.
Below the pavilion, Xie Zhenting stood quietly within the palace courtyard, looking up at him.
Xie Zhenting smiled softly and warmly.
