Fengxi's POV
The morning light filtered through the paper windows, soft and gold—but it felt dim against the unease in my chest.
I sat at the edge of my bed, absently brushing strands of hair from my cheek. My fingertips lingered near my temple, restless.
> "Where are you, Liyu…?"
She never left without saying anything. Never for this long. Even if she was angry, or hiding something—she told me. And yet, she'd vanished with only vague words about "important work." No explanation. No letter.
My gaze drifted to the window, where the street beyond the inn moved on—lively, noisy, oblivious. I wasn't.
I felt the emptiness like a shadow pressed behind my ribs.
The door opened with a soft creak.
Yilin stepped in, favoring one foot, her braid slightly undone. Her face was as polite as ever, but her steps betrayed her discomfort.
> "Miss Liu… I'm sorry to bother you. Could you go to the market and buy some vegetables?"
> "You usually go," I said, standing and moving toward her. "What happened?"
She hesitated, then glanced down at her foot.
> "I… twisted my ankle on the stairs this morning. Just a sprain. I wouldn't have disturbed you otherwise."
My eyes narrowed with concern as I knelt slightly to look.
> "Are you all right? You should be resting."
Yilin gave a soft smile.
> "I'm okay, Miss Liu. It'll heal soon."
She always said things like that—quiet, unbothered, like pain was just another passing cloud.
I gave a reluctant nod and reached for my shawl.
> "Fine. Stay off that leg while I'm gone. Don't be stubborn."
> "Yes, Miss Liu," she said, bowing her head slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting in a hint of gratitude.
I glanced back before stepping out, the ache in my chest growing a little heavier.
> Come back soon, Liyu. Wherever you are.
Liyu's POV
The bathhouse was silent, mist curling in soft trails along the tiled floor. The scent of sandalwood and herbs hung in the steam, warm and grounding.
Han Rui sat in the tub, bare-chested, with water rising up to his ribs. His eyes were closed, his dark lashes a sharp contrast to the pale light touching his skin. For once, he wasn't smirking. Just… still.
I stood beside him awkwardly, fingers twitching at the edge of my sleeve.
> "Come help me wash my hair," he said, not opening his eyes.
I blinked.
> "Huh? Oh… okay."
The words tumbled from me before I could find a reason to refuse. I stepped behind him, kneeling slightly as I dipped a wooden bowl into the water, gently pouring it over his head.
His hair darkened instantly, clinging to the nape of his neck, to his shoulders. I touched it carefully, massaging in the oil. My fingers paused once or twice, unsure.
The silence between us wasn't cold—but thick, charged.
> "I'm sorry," I said after a while, my voice quiet against the gentle sound of water. "For what I said last night. I didn't mean it."
He exhaled slowly, then tilted his head just slightly.
> "Sorry? For what?"
> "I was too harsh. I… crossed a line. I didn't mean to push you away."
He leaned back a little, resting his arms on the edge of the tub.
> "I already forgot," he said calmly. "You don't have to say anything more."
His tone was unreadable—flat, but not distant.
The air grew heavier again, weighted with something I couldn't quite name.
Then, without warning, he said–
> "Come in. Join me."
I stiffened, hand frozen mid-air.
> "What—are you kidding me?!"
> "Since you won't help me get close to Yilin," he said, almost lazily, "at least stay and keep me company."
I stepped back instinctively, heat rushing to my face.
> "You're unbelievable! You ask me to help with Yilin—and then you try this with me?"
He reached out, lightly catching my wrist. His grip wasn't forceful, just… sure. His eyes finally opened, searching mine.
> "You're jealous."
> "I'm not! I—Why would I be jealous of you?!"
My voice cracked slightly. He just watched me, his expression unreadable.
Then, more gently this time, he said—
> "Let me explain. It's not what you think."
I didn't move, but I didn't pull away either. His gaze dropped slightly.
> "Months ago, I went to Yongning. Got into trouble with some local gangs. A girl helped me. She was… kind. Sharp. Brave. I never asked her name. People there called her Lin. So I did too. She reminded me of a sister I lost long ago."
He paused, then added—
> "I thought maybe… Yilin was her. I couldn't be sure. But I wanted to know."
My throat tightened.
> "So Yilin isn't someone you like… like that?"
He shook his head.
> "Not in that way. It was something else. A memory I didn't want to let go of."
I looked down. The weight of his words sank into me slowly.
And then, I realized something else—I was sitting on his lap. Somewhere between pouring water and listening, I'd stopped paying attention.
I jerked upright, heart thudding.
> "If you pull something like this again, I'm leaving."
He raised one hand in surrender, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
> "Alright. No more surprises."
The rest of the bath passed in near silence. I helped rinse his hair, then handed him his robe and guided him back to his room.
His steps were slower, heavier, but he didn't complain.
When we reached his bed, I helped ease him down into the cushions. As I adjusted the blanket over him, he caught my hand again—but didn't pull this time. Just… held it.
He didn't look up. And neither did I.
We stayed like that for a breath, then another.
And when I turned to leave, his fingers released me—slowly, gently, like letting go of something neither of us could name yet.
I walked away quietly.
But my chest felt tight, my cheeks warm.
Something had shifted between us.
Not quite love.
Not quite friendship.
But maybe… maybe something close to both.
Something beginning.