“You care.”
“No.”
“Your aura spiked when she cried.”
“That is irrelevant.”
“There was murder in your eyes when the elders pressed her too hard.”
Mingxi went still.
Mingjun stepped closer, tilting his head, voice dropping to something unusually serious. “She needs someone steady, Mingxi. And you—” He tapped Mingxi’s chest with two fingers.
Mingxi’s breath hitched. Just barely.
Mingjun continued with a smirk “You have already chosen her.”
Mingjun smiled like a fox who had successfully dug straight into his brother’s ribcage. “Don’t worry,” he added lightly. “I won’t tell Minghua.”
Mingxi dragged a hand down his face. “Go away.”
“Nope,” Mingjun said cheerfully. “Not when you’re this much fun.”
“Mingjun.”
“I’m just saying, if you plan on pretending you don’t care, you should work on your expression. And your eyes. And your aura. And your—”
“Mingjun.”
“Breathing.”
Mingxi glared, but Mingjun only laughed under his breath.
“Good luck, Dà ge,” he said as he walked away. “She might not want company right now, but she already trusts you. And that,” he glanced back with a knowing smile, “is the beginning of something.”
Mingxi didn’t answer. He just watched the garden path where Poppy had gone and wondered why his heart felt like it belonged there too.
Poppy found a quiet corner of the inner garden, sinking onto a stone bench beneath a plum tree heavy with blossoms. Her hands shook. Her breath felt thin. Her thoughts were a blurred tangle of grief and memory and that impossible portrait. She hadn’t realized she was crying again until a soft rustle of silk announced someone approaching.
Xu Yunlian.
She moved like a breeze, barely disturbing the air, but impossible to ignore.
“May I join you?” she asked gently.
Poppy swallowed and nodded, wiping her eyes quickly. Xu Yunlian sat beside Poppy, not too close, not too far, and set a small tray down between them, holding still-steaming tea and warm sweet buns shaped like tiny foxes.
Poppy blinked at them.
Xu Yunlian smiled faintly. “When Minghua was small, these were the only things that could soothe her after nightmares.”
“I’m sorry,” Poppy said softly. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”
“You didn’t,” Xu Yunlian assured Poppy, voice a warm balm. “You spoke truth in the Council chamber. That alone takes courage.”
She poured tea into a delicate cup and respectfully handed it to Poppy with both hands. “Drink, child.”
Poppy obeyed before thinking, and her hands steadied around the warm porcelain. They sat in silence for a moment. Not heavy silence. Gentle silence.
