#clockeddd

lán wàngjī’s gaze did not waver. it was a steady, weighty thing, gold and piercing in the way it held niè huáisàng — one question three don't knows, the head-shaker. his golden eyes held the quiet assessment of a man who saw the carefully laid stones of a path, but not the map that drew it. 

he knew the shape of the chaos nie huáisàng had orchestrated. the lives used as pawns, the wounds ripped open to serve a greater vengeance. he also knew the shape of the man now sleeping in the jīngshì — his rightful spouse, returned to him by that same ruthless design. lán wàngjī could not complain, for he had benefited in the end. 

the silence stretched, thick with unspoken reckonings. when lán wàngjī finally spoke, stern and measured, leaving no room for the usual fluttering denials. 　“ sect leader niè, you do not need to pretend,　 ” he said, his tone as even as still water making it impossible to infer intention one way or another.　 “ that you do not know. ”

prompts. always accepting.