Lotus Serenade || Mo Dao Zu Shi x Reader

| 四十 |

──❝Navigating the Hazy Abyss of Insobriety❞──

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Later that day, Meng Yao approached [Y/n], the soft rustle of his silk robes filled the air, and the delicate scent of jasmine followed in her wake. "Clan Leader Nie has requested your presence. He wishes to speak with you." Meng Yao said with a respectful bow. [Y/n] couldn't help but feel a surge of confusion at the unexpected summons, but she trusted Meng Yao implicitly. With a nod, she allowed her to lead the way. The chamber resonated with an ancestral hush; the very air seemed to thicken with unspoken histories. Dust motes danced like ancient spirits in the shaft of wan light that parted the shadows, alighting upon a scene that spoke of bygone eras. There, rooted in the heart of the chamber, sat Nie Mingjue. In the perceptive gaze of [Y/n], the palpable presence of a quiet authority enveloped him like a regal cloak. Seated gracefully at the low table, his posture bespoke a serene composure, while the intricacies of his robe wove a visual symphony, an artful testament to his elevated status and inherent power. The atmosphere, charged with a subtle tension akin to the prelude of a gathering storm, paradoxically held an undercurrent of comfort, a reassuring underpinning that stemmed from the unwavering trust she placed in him. It was as though the room itself acknowledged his dominion, orchestrating a delicate balance between the commanding aura that he exuded and the comforting assurance of a reliable ally.

"Thank you, Meng Yao," Clan Leader Nie said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate through the room. "You may leave us now." Meng Yao bowed respectfully and withdrew, leaving [Y/n] alone with Clan Leader Nie. Her gaze fluttered toward Nie, a fawn stepping into a clearing, cautious yet poised, her stance conveying a quiet fortitude. Nie Mingjue motioned towards the cushion in front of him. "Please sit down." [Y/n] sank onto the cushion. She endeavored to sift through the recesses of her mind, attempting to discern the subject he wished to broach with her. Nie's voice erupted, a primal echo reverberating off stone walls: "Do not mistake the silence of the woods for the ignorance of the hunter. Before your birth, the eminent Five Great Clans were acquainted with you, recognizing you as the only daughter of Clan Leader Li Huan and his consort Li Mei-Xia." [Y/n] stared at him as he spoke. His words drifted over her head like clouds; she barely registered his shift in his seat. "The pregnancy of Li Mei-Xia had been subject to vigilant scrutiny by the clans, deeming her progeny as a prospective inheritor of their influential legacy. A similar expectation accompanied the birth of your younger brother, but alas, his arrival was greeted with a sense of disillusionment." 

[Y/n] absorbed his words, her brows knitting together in a tapestry of worry and wonder, the slightest crease forming as she clasped her hands with an unconscious grace, a silent plea weaving itself around her form. "Why?" Her voice, in contrast to Nie's, was the whisper of silk across the marble coldness of the room, her question hanging like a solitary leaf in the still air. Nie's head tilted, the barest of movements, but a telling gesture. "Trust begets trust," he intoned, his eyes glinting with a somber flame. "The forebears of our clans struck a pact, sealed in the silent tongue of the earth, to guard the silence of your life," he explained. "And the Wens?" [Y/n] asked, her voice now a harbinger of storms—soft yet distant, a precursor to thunder's rumble. "Why do they remain ignorant?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for answers. The air seemed to shudder, the unspoken name causing the walls themselves to recoil. A muscle twitches in his jaw, as if the words he dispatched carried the weight of the world itself, his resolute visage betraying no secrets, no emotions save for the inscrutable resolve that was his signature. No doubt he is gnashing his teeth in rage. Nie Mingjue's taciturn nature was an open secret; his communication was restrained to the bare essentials. Furthermore, his intense aversion extended particularly towards the Wen Clan, with a pronounced loathing directed at Wen Ruohan, the paramount figure at the helm of the Qishan Wen Clan.