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    Summary

    The first thing Wei Ying became aware of was cold steel at his throat.
    Not one blade—several.
    He did not move.

    Sleep still clung to him, heavy and disorienting, but instinct burned through it fast enough. His eyes cracked open to darkness cut by lantern light, and beyond it, the rigid silhouettes of Gusu Lan disciples. White robes. Swords steady. Not trembling.
    Not a mistake, then.

    Wei Ying let out a slow breath, careful not to shift against the edge pressing lightly into his skin. “Well,” he said, voice rough with sleep, “this is a new way to wake up.”

    No one laughed.
    That, more than the swords, told him something was very wrong.

    “You will come with us,” one disciple said. Young. Formal. Afraid—but hiding it well. “You are to be detained and questioned.”

    “Questioned?” Wei Ying echoed. His mind raced, sifting through the previous day. Punishments—yes. Lan Wangji standing over him like a silent judge. Copying rules until his wrist ached. Kneeling until his legs went numb. Nothing new, nothing unusual, nothing that should end with… this.

    He frowned. “Did I break a new rule I haven’t heard of yet?”

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