She had saved him.
Not with spells she understood, not with rituals or fox-magic, but with instinct. With courage. With a touch she hadn’t known could purify. And she’d done it as though it were a reflex. As though protecting him came naturally.
Mingxi exhaled slowly, eyelids lowering again. He would remember this night. The night he rested—truly rested—for the first time in years.
Not because the danger was gone, but because Poppy Sinclair was standing watch.
Chapter 55
Gray light seeped through the trees before the sun fully rose, brushing the clearing in a muted hush. Frost glimmered faintly on the pine needles, and the air tasted sharper, cleaner, as if the night itself had been distilled.
Poppy blinked awake with a soft start.
Her back ached from sleeping against the tree root; one hand had fallen to her side, the other on the hidden dagger beneath her cloak. She sat up straighter, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. Then she froze.
Mingxi was already looking at her. Not intensely. Not invasively. Just… quietly. As one might watch the sunrise.
“You’re awake,” she whispered, voice rough.
“I never slept.”
“Of course you didn’t.” She rubbed her eyes. “Because you’re impossible.”
His lips curved faintly. “And you snore.”
Her head snapped up. “I do not—”
“You do.” A beat. “Only a little.”
Heat raced up her neck. “You should have woken me.”
“You needed the rest,” he said simply.
“So did you.”
“I cannot sleep,” he replied, voice soft, truthful. “Not deeply. Not safely.”
She frowned. “Even with me here?”
His gaze flickered—just once. Not an answer. Not denial. A truth he clearly wasn’t ready to voice.
She pushed to her feet with a tired groan. “How’s your shoulder?”
Mingxi shifted, and she could tell he was testing the joint. He winced, but only slightly. “It is… better.”
“Because of last night?”
He nodded, slow and reverent. “Because of you.”
Her chest tightened. “Then we should keep moving.”
He rose, unsteady but determined. Poppy stepped toward him out of instinct; his body leaned, just enough to show how much he needed the support. But she could feel him pull back away, as if trying to gather himself before she could catch him. Still proud. Still afraid to burden.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They left the clearing and followed a narrow deer trail that sloped downward, winding into a valley where the air cooled sharply. The pines thinned gradually, giving way to faint vertical lines in the distance. Bamboo. At first scattered, but then thick. Then a wall of green that swallowed the morning in velvet silence.
The forest rose around them like a living cathedral, tall jade stalks reaching endlessly skyward. Mist drifted through the trunks, soft and glowing. The ground beneath their feet was padded with fallen leaves that muffled each step.
