Shuyan sighed. “A memorable day.”
Poppy began to grind. Her movements were careful at first, almost hesitant.
“Stronger,” Shuyan suggested.
She pressed harder.
“Good. Now smoother.”
Her arm steadied. The herbs broke into a shimmering green-silver paste.
Minghua let out a dramatic gasp. “Poppy. You’re a natural.”
“She is learning,” Shuyan said. But her proud smile betrayed her.
They added powdered foxfire; the mixture hissed and cooled instantly.
Poppy flinched as a puff of frost brushed her fingers. “It’s cold!”
“The salve heals by drawing heat out,” Shuyan explained. “Try placing some on your wrist.”
Minghua beat her to it, dabbing a tiny bit onto Poppy’s skin.
The cold hit first—sharp, breathtaking—and then warmth followed, spreading deep and steady beneath the surface.
Poppy exhaled. “It’s wonderful.”
“You made it,” Shuyan said simply.
The next hours passed in a gentle rhythm. Grinding herbs. Mixing oils. Learning which petals eased ache and which soothed nightmares. Laughing when a fox kit climbed into Poppy’s lap and refused to leave. Listening to Minghua chatter about clan traditions and who in the healer corps was secretly dating whom.
“You don’t have to tell her everything,” Shuyan scolded.
“Why not?” Minghua said. “She’s practically family—”
Shuyan cleared her throat sharply.
Minghua corrected without missing a beat: “Ish. Potentially. Eventually.”
Poppy fought a blush. The warmth around her—the laughter, the gentle corrections, the kits underfoot, the easy kindness—felt like sunlight after years of winter.
She didn’t know she was smiling until Shuyan said softly, “It suits you.”
Across the grove, half hidden behind a pillar, Mingxi watched. He hadn’t come to intrude. He had come to check on her. Just to ensure she was safe.
That was all.
But when he saw her brushing moonmint petals with delicate fingertips… When he saw her laugh at Minghua’s antics… When he saw the way the healers naturally drifted toward her, drawn in by her quiet steadiness… His breath caught.
She looked at home. More at home than he had ever seen her.
Mingjun appeared beside Mingxi at the exact wrong moment. “You’re staring,” Mingjun murmured, munching on a plum.
“I am observing,” Mingxi said.
“You’re observing like a fox struck stupid.”
“Mingjun.”
