His ears twitched.
He looked away quickly, but his voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it. “I am glad.”
Chapter 38
A cluster of stalls came into view as they continued, riotous splashes of color under fluttering silk canopies. Artisans sat cross-legged on woven mats, their hands moving with deft precision over beads, lacquer, and delicate foxfire-lit trinkets.
Poppy slowed, caught by the shimmer of one particular stall. A collection of hair ornaments lay displayed on velvet, sleek carved combs, fox-shaped pins, delicate twists of gold shaped like tail swirls… and moon symbols.
So many moons. Silver crescents. Waxing slivers. A polished full-moon disk that seemed to hum with quiet magic. She reached out, fingertips hovering above a crescent pin, slender, elegant, its metal catching the light like soft water.
Before she could touch it, the artisan behind the stall, a bright-eyed elder with silver-streaked hair and a tail swaying lazily, smiled knowingly.
“Pretty little moonborn has good taste,” he said.
Poppy startled. “I… moonborn?”
The elder winked as if he’d said nothing unusual. “Your aura sparkles. Doesn’t take a seer to notice.”
Poppy flushed, withdrawing her hand.
Mingxi stepped forward, calm but watching her carefully. “It is not polite to overwhelm our guest.”
“Who’s overwhelming?” the artisan chuckled. “I’m complimenting.”
Mingxi exhaled once through his nose, long-suffering.
The kits nearby giggled.
Before Poppy could apologize or pull back farther, Mingxi stepped closer, into her space, but gently. His voice softened. “May I?”
She blinked. “W-what?”
He nodded toward her hair. Her bun, clean but hastily pinned after her rest, had loosened into soft curls trailing along her cheek. Heat rose to her skin.
“I… yes,” she whispered.
Mingxi looked to the stall again. His eyes scanned the ornaments, sharp, assessing, but with a softness beneath. Then he reached for the crescent-moon hairpin she’d first admired. A slender arc of silver, subtle enough not to command attention, but exquisite in its simplicity.
Something about it, its shape, its quiet glow, seemed chosen with care. He paid the artisan without looking at him. Without hesitation. Just…chose it. For her.
“Turn,” he murmured, voice low.
Poppy obeyed before she even realized she had moved.
His fingers were warm, surprisingly warm, as they brushed the loose strands at the nape of her neck. He gathered the fallen curls, his touch precise and reverent, and slid the crescent pin into place with deliberate care.
A soft click, a gentle settling against her hair, and then his fingers lingered. Just long enough to steady her. Just long enough to feel the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. When he stepped back, the air between them shimmered with something unspoken.
Poppy lifted a hand, touching the pin lightly. It felt… right. Balanced. Like moonlight had been tucked into her hair.
Mingxi’s voice was steady when he finally spoke, but a touch rougher than usual. “It suits you.”
Poppy swallowed. “It’s beautiful.”
He didn’t respond at first. He simply looked at her, the way foxes watched fire, conflicted between reverence and wanting to draw closer.
Then, quietly, “You shine.”
