She was doomed. Absolutely doomed.
Mingxi should have been calm. He was trained for calm. Bred for calm. Council trained. Guardian-tempered. Nothing shook him. Except apparently a woman blinking awake in his cloak and then nearly passing out when she saw his torso.
He didn’t know what to do with that.
She had looked at him like… like he was something dangerous and beautiful and she didn’t know which one terrified her more.
And when she had said, “How can you look like that?” Mingxi had forgotten how to breathe for several seconds. She wasn’t horrified. She wasn’t scandalized. She was…shocked. And not because she thought he looked strange.
Because she noticed him. All of him.
Mingxi smoothed his robes, suddenly aware of every inch of skin beneath it. He’d never cared how he looked before. Foxborn bodies were simply Foxborn bodies. But Poppy had stared at him with wide blue eyes and flushed cheeks and a stuttering breath, and Mingxi didn’t have the emotional training to withstand that.
She kept glancing at him, clearly trying not to but failing.
Every look hit him like a spark under the ribs. Mingxi inhaled slowly. Controlled. Pointless. He was doomed. The campfire crackled softly as Mingxi set a pot of congee over the flames. Poppy sat on a low woven mat, knees drawn up, cloak still wrapped tightly around her shoulders like armor.
Mingxi moved with his usual quiet efficiency—pouring water, stirring rice, adding fox-root and ginger—and Poppy watched every motion like he was performing high magic instead of breakfast.
Every time he reached for something, his robes stretched over his shoulders, and Poppy immediately looked away. Then peeked again. This became a cycle. A very obvious cycle.
Mingxi ladled steaming congee into a bowl and offered it to her.
“Careful,” he said softly. “It’s hot.”
Poppy took the bowl with both hands, nodded, and then immediately burned her mouth. She made a small noise.
Mingxi’s brows lifted—half concern, half amusement. “You’re… flustered,” he said gently.
“I amnotflustered.”
“You are red.”
“It’s the fire.”
“The fire is low.”
Poppy stared at him. Mingxi stared back, keeping himself composed.
Finally, she muttered, “It’s unfair to look like that.”
Mingxi blinked once. Twice. “I’m fully clothed.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Whatisthe point?”
She gestured vaguely at his entire being. “You know what the point is.”
Mingxi coughed. Actually coughed. Then, he looked into the fire, hoping it might rescue him. The silence that settled between them was warm and charged, no longer awkward, just… aware.
When she reached for more congee, their fingers brushed. Both froze. Poppy looked down quickly. Mingxi didn’t move at all. Poppy’s breath hitched, and Mingxi knew she felt it too, the undeniable pull between them.
Poppy swallowed.
Mingxi said, very quietly, “We should… continue the trail once we’ve eaten.”
Poppy nodded, cheeks still pink. “Yes,” she whispered.
