Chapter Text
### Chapter 1: The Broken Lantern and the Dancing Lady
The first sliver of dawn had not yet touched the sky, but Guzi was already scrambling out of the big, far-too-soft bed. His small feet pattered against the cool, polished wood floors of the Crown Prince’s palace. He didn’t bother with his shoes. There was only one thing on his mind.
“Baba?” he whispered, his voice full of the day’s first hope. He tiptoed past the sleeping form of Lang Qianqiu, who was slumped over a low table, maps and scrolls scattered around him like fallen leaves. The prince had been up late again. They all had.
Guzi hurried to the special pedestal in the corner of the main hall, his heart beating a happy little rhythm. Every morning, this was his first stop. Every morning, he would greet the faint, grumpy, flickering green light trapped within the elegant bronze lantern. He would tell it about his dreams, and sometimes, if he listened very carefully, he could almost hear a cranky voice call him a ‘little beast’ or tell him to go back to sleep. It was the best sound in the world.
But this morning, the pedestal was empty.
A cold knot tightened in Guzi’s stomach. He blinked, thinking the sleep was still in his eyes. He crept closer.
There, on the floor beside the pedestal, lay the bronze lantern. It was on its side, and its delicate frame was cracked and bent. The glass pane was shattered. And inside…
Inside was nothing. No faint glow. No simmering emerald flame. No grumpy presence.
It was empty. Cold.
“Baba?” Guzi’s whisper was louder now, edged with panic. He dropped to his knees, his small hands carefully, fearfully touching the broken metal. “Baba, where are you?”
The clatter of armor and a sharp intake of breath came from behind him. Lang Qianqiu was awake, his weary eyes wide with alarm as he took in the scene. He was at Guzi’s side in an instant, a large, warm hand on the boy’s trembling shoulder.
“Guzi…”
“He’s gone!” Guzi cried, tears finally spilling over. “Prince-gege, Baba’s lantern is broken! He’s gone!”
Lang Qianqiu’s face, already lined with exhaustion, seemed to age another year. He gathered the broken pieces with a grim expression, his jaw tight. The seal was shattered. The prison was breached. Qi Rong was gone.
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**Months Later**
The search had been immense, relentless, and utterly fruitless.
Lang Qianqiu had turned his entire territory upside down. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng had combed through both the mortal and ghost realms, following every faint whisper of resentment. Even Mu Qing and Feng Xin had put aside their bickering to aid in the search, while Shi Qingxuan had begged He Xuan for any insight the Black Water Demon might deign to offer. The Nether Water Manor had yielded no answers.
It was as if the Green Ghost Qi Rong had been wiped from existence. No tantrums, no curses, no petty crimes bore his signature. The silence was unnerving.
Yet, something new had begun in his absence.
It started with the fireflies. Not the ordinary, golden kind that blinked lazily over summer ponds, but strange, spectral ones. Their light was a pale, ethereal green, and they did not confine themselves to the night. They drifted through the daylight like living motes of emerald dust, immune to the sun. They were harmless, silent, and everywhere. One in particular, slightly larger and brighter than the rest, began visiting Guzi’s windowsill every single night. It would hover there, pulsing softly, until the boy fell asleep. Lang Qianqiu watched it with deep suspicion, but it never drew closer, never caused any harm. Guzi, in his loneliness, began to look for it, calling it his ‘night-light.’
Then came the rumors from the villages near the large, placid lake on the edge of the territory. They spoke of a spirit, a goddess, a ghost—no one could agree. They said that at twilight, a single, giant lily pad would appear in the center of the water, unfurling a magnificent flower the color of a midnight sky.
Curiosity finally overcame caution. One evening, Lang Qianqiu, with Guzi holding tightly to his hand and Xie Lian and Hua Cheng following close behind, went to the lake’s shore to see for themselves.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, it happened. A ripple disturbed the still water. A large, velvety lily pad emerged, and upon it, a bud began to slowly open, its petals shimmering with a soft, internal light.
When the flower bloomed fully, a woman stood upon it.
She was breathtaking and eerie. Her skin was pale as moonlight, and her feet were bare. Her robes were the deep, shifting green-blue of ocean depths, adorned with silver that caught the dying light. Her hair was styled intricately, woven with pearls and jewels, and her face was a masterpiece of exquisite makeup in those same aquatic hues—sweeping green liner, lips stained blue.
And then she began to dance.
Her movements were fluid, hypnotic, a silent ballet on the water’s surface. But she did not tread on the water itself. As she stepped, the strange green fireflies would swarm just beneath the surface, a glowing, solid carpet for her bare feet. With each graceful step, they would gather, their collective light flaring to support her, making it appear as if she was gliding effortlessly on the lake’s mirror-like surface.
The sight was mesmerizing, beautiful, and profoundly unnatural.
Guzi stared, his eyes wide, his tears for his lost father forgotten for a moment. He tugged on Lang Qianqiu’s sleeve.
“Prince-gege,” he whispered, his voice full of a child’s strange certainty. “Who is that lady?”
Lang Qianqiu could only shake his head, his grip tightening on his sword. He didn’t know. But the pale green fireflies dancing beneath her feet were a hauntingly familiar color—the exact shade of a ghostly flame he had been searching for all these long, desperate months.
Who was this woman? And what did her beautiful, terrifying dance have to do with the missing ghost? The mystery hung heavy over the water, as deep and dark as the lake itself.