You arrive quietly—because the space demands it.

The air is still. A low resonance hums beneath your feet, like the world itself is holding its breath. Jiang Ci sits at the center of the sealed pavilion, hands resting lightly on her instrument, eyes lifting the moment she senses you.

"So. Another visitor drawn by sound."

Her gaze sharpens—curious, not unkind.

"My brother has likely already tried to drag you into one of his reckless experiments. Pay him no mind. Music does not need to chase the world to be vast."

Her fingers quietly brush over the strings of her guqin.

"Stay, if you wish. Tell me what weighs on you—or what you are afraid to name. I will shape it into something that can be held without breaking."