“I heard someone,” she whispered. “Not calling Penelope. Something… older.”
He exhaled. “Your moon name.”
“I have one?”
“You will, when the moonwell accepts you.”
She swallowed, throat tight. “Do you… dream?”
“No. Why?” He hesitated and then quietly surrendered the truth. “Because I don’t sleep, I can’t dream.”
Her heart clenched. “Mingxi…”
He looked away, jaw tight. “It is not your concern.”
She reached for his hand without thinking. He flinched—startled, not rejecting.
“You’re not alone,” she whispered.
He stared at her, something raw and vulnerable bleeding into his gaze. “Poppy… you cannot say things like that. I will… believe you.”
She didn’t let go. “Good.”
The air thickened between them.
Later, when a stray lock of her hair fell across her cheek, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear.
She froze. He froze.
“Mingxi…”
“I should not,” he whispered.
“You already did.”
He stood abruptly, retreating into the cold night as though distance were the only shield he had left.
Poppy sat alone in the lantern glow, something fragile and fierce opening inside her.
Chapter 57
By morning, the forest had changed again—tall red pines rising like pillars carved from gold. Their needles whispered like quiet bells in the wind.
Poppy spun in a slow circle, mouth parted. “Mingxi… it’s—”
“A boundary of Moonwell Valley,” he said. “It shifts with magic.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He watched her awe with a warmth he didn’t voice.
They walked until a rustle froze Poppy mid-step. Not the dramatic freeze from before. Not the shriek. Just… stillness.
Mingxi paused. “Poppy?”
She inhaled. “Something brushed my boot.”
A small, jade-green snake slid into view.
