The temple door slammed. Xing He stared at its warped, old wood, dumbfounded at first, then a little angry. She crossed her arms, tightened her raggedy coat... and stood still.

Her nose burned in the chilled morning air, the sun on the snow glaring in her eyes. She shivered slightly, stamping her feet, hearing them crunch in the fresh, still-falling snow.

Then she waited, firm in her conviction that eventually someone, some kind soul, some good person, would open that door, and she would walk through to warmth and happiness.

So she stood. Stood until she’d memorized every line on that old door, until the snow piled ankle high around her feet, until she shivered and shook with the deadly, poisonous cold that slipped under her ragged, bare clothes and burrowed straight into her bones.

Until white dusted her hair silver with snow and cold, until the sun set beyond the city’s horizon, until the moon rose high in the sky and the stars shone with their clear, cold, cruel light, she stood expectantly, almost petulantly.

It was arrogance--or perhaps a childish innocence that kept her standing there. She firmly believed that somebody in the temple would be kind enough to open the door, so, of course, she suffered for it.

Xing He shivered, feeling the cold ache in her arms--she was glad for it, for it told her that she was still alive. Much better than her legs, which had gone completely numb by now.

She raised one shaking, shivering hand, the other holding shut the threadbare coat around her, and knocked on the door, as she had a thousand times before.

And, of course, the door stayed shut.

**

This street hasn’t been swept in a while. Bai Wuhan thought to himself, his feet crunching in the freshly fallen snow. The flakes dusted his windswept hair with streaks of silver and gave his tattered grey cloak a powdery coat of white. Wonder if it’s a trap. He thought, his fingers playing about the hilt of his sword.

Wuhan reminded himself to thank his junior sister the next time he saw her for the cloak. It had probably saved him more times than he liked to remember; its fabric was torn, slashed, and even burnt, each patched or sewn spot one more memory, one more face, lost to the wheel of fate.

His breath came in a silvery stream as the light of memory flickered in his eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t--no. He shook his head. They deserved it. All of them. Wuhan told himself, his hand touching the sword at his side.

The crunching sound of boots falling in snow slowed then came to a stop. “Did they?” He whispered to the empty air. “I wonder what Master would say...”

A wry smile flickered on his face. “He’d probably say something like... ‘Should a man be executed a rebel for murdering a tyrant?’”

Snowflakes burst into the air, a silver spray drifting down to earth as he shook his head, a plume of silver rushing out of his mouth as he sighed. “I miss the temple. It’s lonely out here. Everybody scheming and plotting... so tiring.” He murmured under his breath.

The sound of footsteps in snow resumed for a little while, then stopped as a decisive voice sounded in the empty street. “You know what, that little bastard from Heaven’s Gate definitely deserved it. Not sure about the others, though.”

**

His Imperial Majesty, the Son of Heaven, the Heavenly Emperor of the Qin Dynasty, sat alone on his throne of deeply carved marble, considering. The smokeless lamps on the walls burned bright as ever, banishing shadows to forgotten corners and hidden dreams, no matter that the moon rose high in the sky, no matter that the stars appeared once more in the sky, burning clear against the veil of night.

The silence of the court... the silence of a tomb. Death and decay. Thought the Emperor, his gaze flickering over great, towering monoliths, marked with reliefs, friezes and mosaics aplenty, before falling upon an ancient, nearly-forgotten statue, almost invisible in the overshadowed corner it stood in.

The bigger the better? Hah! Fools. The Emperor snorted, standing up. His footsteps rang out into the vacuum like the snap of fireworks in the empty, echoing chamber as he crossed the engraved jadeite floor, shimmering with reflected light.

Moonlight and starlight, along with a few specks of snow, spilled in through the clerestory in long, rectangular patches of quicksilver as the Emperor waved his hand, causing the smokeless lamps’ light to flicker and fade away, his footsteps stopping before the small statue in its shadowed corner.

He nodded to the carven face of his predecessor as he made a quick gesture with his right hand. A rumbling sound echoed in the hall, like thunder amplified a hundred times over, as the statue slowly rolled backwards, unseen mechanisms and magics opening a dark portal into the ground.

The Emperor breathed deep, filling his mind with the scent of stone and half-burnt torches. No musty or rotten scent rose to his thoughts, however.

In a moment, he descended the stairs, disappearing into the dark, dusty shadows below.

**

The moon shone, ethereal and pure, against a backdrop of silver stars and shadowy skies. Xing He sat alone, back against the temple door. She had stopped knocking on the door some time ago... some time she could hardly remember.

Her head lolled back against warped wood as she gazed up into the dark firmament, pondering a question that her mother had asked a few years ago before she... when she had thought Xing He was sleeping.

“Is this our fate?” She had asked the empty air, the burning sparks jumping out of the crackling campfire, as she gazed up--just as Xing He was doing now--into the starry heavens.

She had searched the silver sky for answers, and yet, she... Xing He shook her head, snapping out of old, warm memories to face her cold, white reality.

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Snow dusted her lashes as she gazed up into the dark sky, just as her mother had done, so many years ago. “Are you still out there?” She whispered up into the uncaring heavens, silver eyes searching the silver sky, only finding a question, never an answer.

“I hope you come soon... I hope someone comes soon... I can hardly feel anything.” She murmured. The snow felt cool and feather-soft on her skin, like a blanket. The mound of snow beneath her felt comforting and springy, like a bed.

So, of course, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. Perhaps the world would be warmer when she woke up.

**

Bai Wuhan drew his sword, a shimmering, iridescent length of a certain metal unknown to the mortal world.

“Who are you?” He said, carefully watching the slumped figure at the temple door.

Only the wind gave a response, its howling gusts sending flurries of white rushing towards him. He calmly made a quick hand seal with his left hand.

A pulse of light and the snow was gone.

Wuhan walked forward, his boots crunching in the undisturbed snow, before brushing the snow off the figure with a carefully directed burst of wind. He looked for a second, a sceptical and wary expression crossing his face, then sheathed his sword.

A girl? He knelt down, digging through the piled snow for her little hand--practically a block of ice by this point. A little motion of his qi, and the snow on their hands steamed, evaporating in an instant.

The spell he cast he had read about in a book--a mere trick. Still, an expression of relief took his face, along with a little pleasant surprise.

Carefully, he took her pulse, sending a burst of qi through her veins and arteries--not meridians. He hardly desired to kill her. A mortal? What was she doing by the temple? How’d the temple?

He shook his head--those were questions for another time--then picked her up. She was light as a feather, young, and probably malnourished.

Still, examining her little face, he noted that she’d probably grow up into a real beauty--if she got to. Wonder where she came from... He thought.

**

Tang Tian strode from a deep, dark passageway, faintly smelling of torch smoke. His robe, no longer purple or embroidered with showy gold, blended into the snowy ground and contrasted against the dark backdrop of night. A simple, pure white--just the way he liked it.

He flicked his gaze up into the heavens--seeing the moon, still hanging high in the sky, not yet ready to set over the horizon, to disappear behind the mountainous peaks of the Grave. A slight nod to himself later, he glanced about his surroundings, seeing dark, shadowy trees, planted in careful, caring rows that made sure to end right where the passageway came out.

An orchard.

As he walked through the orchard, he plucked an apple--far out of season--from a nearby tree. It’s ripe, luscious red beautifully reflected the full, round moon, albeit... tainted scarlet.

He considered it for a moment, then moved to eat it, but found he’d lost his appetite, so he tossed it off to the right, somewhere in the snow--the only trace he left behind. Not a footprint marred the snow, as pristine and new as it could ever be.

Were an expert tracker to arrive just now, he or she would have a terrible time even noticing that Tang Tian had come by. Perhaps that was why his enemies didn’t employ trackers, he thought.

He decided as he walked that he would probably prefer it if they did--it would most likely help create a few jobs for the people and help the economy.

At least it’d be better than hiring Demons like they normally did.

He took one more step forward and stepped out of the tree line, seeing a quaint, one story farmhouse with a single, thin chimney--an utterly jarring sight in the urban sprawl of the Imperial City. Snow dusted its shingles, glazed bricks reflecting more moonlight than struck them.

Tang Tian gazed at it a second longer than he should have, an indescribable emotion deep in his eyes before he stepped up and knocked lightly on the door.

A light flickered on in the back of the house.

The door creaked as it opened, revealing a tired-looking, middle-aged man. His eyes widened as he saw Tang Tian. “...Come in.” He said, pulling the door open wider.

“Of course.” He stepped through, dusting the snow off his shoulders.

“Why’re you here?” The man asked after Tang Tian had settled down into a nearby couch.

“They’re getting bolder.” He replied, relaxing into the soft cushions of the couch. “You weren’t in court today, but when they heard the sects wanted that poor girl gone, they were practically drooling over themselves to assist.”

Tang Tian gestured, and two steaming hot cups of tea appeared. floating, between the two men. “I refused to send the Royal Guard down to kill her, but I can guarantee the girl will be gone by sunset. Her body will never be found.”

“Did they not want her to be executed as a rebel?” The man asked, his eyes thoughtful, his hand on his chin.

“They do--to repair the damage done to their respective faces--but they could never convince me.” He replied, sipping his tea. “None of the clans could act under my vision, but they’ll act tonight or tomorrow morning. Assassins... maybe pull a few strings in the court.”

“Mmm. Poor girl.” The other man said, sniffing the tea. “Are they starting to make their moves?”

“Why else would the clans be so daring as to act like that in the capital?” He replied calmly. “Undoubtedly, they’re already in position, just waiting for the right time. In fact, I suspect that this snow is a little artificial... probably to test my Design.”

“Will you be staying in the Capital?” The man asked.

“Of course. They think they can kill me? Hah!” He sneered at the very thought. “They will fail--they don’t scheme deep enough. A coup d'etat? Heh...”

“The problem is...” The other man led, seeing frustration beneath disdain in Tang Tian’s eyes.

“The problem is... that I can’t kill any of them, either. We can’t afford a civil war like that--not with the Celestials breathing down our backs--and so, they hold the best hostage of all.”

“The Empire.” The other man said, setting his tea on a nearby table.

“The Empire.” Tang Tian nodded firmly, also putting down his cup. For a little while, he considered the patterns of steam that rose from his cup. “The Capital will be swept by a storm of blood.” He said, finally, as the steaming cup cooled.

“Indeed.” The Minister said. “Can we say that the Demons will take advantage?”

“Unlikely. The new Demon Lord needs time to consolidate his power. A war would destabilize his regime.” Tang Tian shook his head.

“So a storm it will be...” The Minister reclined into his chair. “I suppose I should step down. Unfortunate.”

Tang Tian looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Do you desire death so badly?”

“No, of course not.” The middle-aged man sighed. “But moving is such a pain.”

Tang Tian looked around. “You could probably stick this entire place into that ring of yours and just walk out. Consider it a vacation.”

“True.” The Minister nodded. “Well, I wish you good luck, old friend.”

Tang Tian nodded, then stood and left, leaving the Minister to his thoughts. Although countless thoughts and emotions ran through the Minister’s mind, not a one showed on his face.

His silence mirrored the silence of the night, the silence of the capital--countless undercurrents flowing under a veneer of stillness, a facade of calm.

After all, still waters run deep.

**

The Imperial Hospital was normally closed at this point in the night, but now, its windows flickered with golden lamplight.

“How is it?” A voice came from one of the rooms in the hospital.

“Mmm.” Another, elderly voice sounded from the same room. “She’ll be fine.”

The first voice exchanged a few words of thanks with the second as the door opened. A young man, a grey robe wrapped around his slender frame, stepped out.

“I’ll leave her in your care, then. I must return to the sect.” He said, turning back to glance into the room one last time.

The old man within, in a doctor’s white dress, nodded at him. “You’ve done a good thing, Wuhan.”

The young man smiled, the bright expression somehow bitter. “One step forward out of a hundred steps back.”

“Still a step forward.” The old man shook his head. “You young ones...”

Bai Wuhan turned. “Almost forgot. Make sure to give her those books.” The old doctor nodded to him. Reassured, he walked away into curtains of white.