Poppy whispered softly, “Mingxi… it’s working.”
His eyes softened with something raw and vulnerable. “You are doing what even fox magic cannot,” he whispered. “Poppy… you’re saving me.”
Heat stung her eyes. “I didn’t know I could.”
“Neither did I.”
He held supernaturally still, chest rising carefully against the rhythm of her hand. His fever eased noticeably, his breathing steadier. The corruption under the skin fading—still present but no longer spreading.
Poppy lifted her other hand, cupping just beneath his shoulder to steady him.
He shuddered, and she felt the pain ease from relief.
“You should stop,” he murmured, voice a low hum of exhaustion. “You’ve done enough.”
Poppy didn’t move her hand. “Tell me where it hurts.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then tell me when to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
That startled her.
His gaze lifted—heavy, softened, unguarded in a way she had never seen. “You… feel like moonlight.”
Her breath faltered. She didn’t know what to do with that. Finally, after long moments, the last threads of corruption slowed to a harmless crawl.
She let her hand fall away, trembling, her pulse still racing.
Mingxi sagged forward slightly—only an inch—but enough for her to catch him by the shoulder.
“Easy,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
His forehead brushed her temple, so lightly she couldn’t be sure if it was intentional.
“I know,” he breathed.
Poppy helped him settle against the fallen log, easing him down with hands gentler than he expected. She arranged her cloak beneath him, with another rolled beneath his arm to keep pressure off the shoulder.
He watched her the whole time, unable to look away.
“You need to rest,” she said softly.
Rest. Not sleep.She didn’t know the difference yet.
He nodded anyway.
Poppy moved to stand guard at the edge of the clearing, her back straight, her form framed in pale moonlight. She kept glancing back at him—every few breaths, as if checking he was still alive.
The habit tugged at something deep inside him.
She shouldn’t care this much. She shouldn’t be this brave. She shouldn’t kneel in the snow to save a fox-spirit Councilor she barely knew.
And yet she had.
Mingxi adjusted slightly, feeling the faint, cool echo of her touch lingering beneath his skin. The wound still hurt—sharply, deeply—but her magic had pushed the corruption back. He had not felt that kind of relief in years.
