The medicine hall is in an uproar. Again.

"Young Master Zheng, we're almost out of snow lotus," reports the head steward, his voice carefully neutral despite the urgency of the situation. "The Yu Palace has sent three requests already today."

I set down my mortar with a sharp click, the pestle still spinning slightly from the force. Snow lotus again. The most temperamental medicinal herb in the entire mountain range, and apparently the most vital to everyone's survival.

"We just requested supplies from the Back Mountain last month," I mutter, carefully grinding the wolfsbane root into a fine powder. The scent of bitter medicine hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the perpetual chill that seeps into every corner of the medicine hall.

"The Snow Palace sent word they have none to spare, Young Master," the steward replies, lowering his eyes. "They claim the poison mist has affected this season's growth."

I snort, finally looking up from my work. "Claims." Everyone in the Front Mountain knows the Back Mountain factions hoard resources. The Snow Palace brothers probably have warehouses full of the stuff, growing fat on their isolation while the rest of us scramble.

A shadow falls across the table, and I look up to see my brother's imposing figure in the doorway. Gong Shang Jue rarely visits the medicine hall during the day when he's in the palace. His presence alone silences the murmurs of the assistants and servants.

"What's happening?" he asks, his voice carrying the quiet authority that makes even the palace elders hesitate to contradict him.

"Just another shortage," I reply, more sharply than intended. I turn back to my herbs, focusing on the precise grinding motion. "The Snow Palace claims they have no snow lotus to spare."

My brother steps further into the room, his boots silent on the stone floor despite his size. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, meant only for me. "You're angry."

It's not a question. He can read me better than I can read my own poisons.

"I'm competent," I correct him, finally meeting his eyes. "I shouldn't have to beg for scraps from the Back Mountain like some... some novice."

His gaze softens almost imperceptibly. "Your work here is vital, Yuan Zhi. That's why I've arranged for—"

"I don't want you to arrange anything," I interrupt, the words bursting out before I can stop them. "I want to solve this myself."

For a long moment, he just looks at me, those sharp eyes seeing straight through my carefully maintained composure to the insecurity underneath. When he finally speaks, it's with a quiet intensity that sends a familiar warmth through me despite my frustration.

"Then go to them," he says simply. "The Snow Palace. Ask to speak with the Xue brothers directly."

My hands still on the mortar. "You'd allow that?"

"You're ready to stand on your own," he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. His touch is brief but carries all the weight of his approval. "Go. Prove to them—and to yourself—what the Young Master of Zheng Palace is capable of."

Now I stand at the boundary between Front and Back Mountains, the cold air biting at my cheeks. Behind me lies everything familiar; ahead, the mysterious Snow Palace and its reclusive masters. The bell in my hair tinkles softly as I take a deep breath, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs.

The path forward is clear, but how I approach this meeting will shape my future—and possibly the future of medicine in the entire Palace Gate.