The outpost was alive with rare joy. Lanterns swayed from wooden poles, smoke curled from roasting spits, and the scent of spiced meat filled the air. A makeshift bonfire had been lit at the center, around which traders, mercenaries, and freed caravaners gathered in celebration of the serpent's death.
Yuxin practically glided toward the long tables, pulling Tian Lei along as though he were an unwilling tether. She sat down gracefully, veil fluttering, then gestured to the bench beside her. "Sit. Unless you plan on looming behind me like a watchtower all night."
"…You're insistent." But Tian Lei sat, sword resting at his side.
Plates arrived almost instantly—braised river fish, steamed buns filled with herbs, and cups of spirit wine that gleamed faintly under the firelight. Yuxin accepted her share with elegant ease, lifting the cup toward him. "Drink. If you glare at the food long enough, it won't vanish. I promise."
"I don't glare."
