Mist clung low over Yinshi's roofs that night, curling around carved eaves and paper lanterns. At the Wine and Colour Pavilion, laughter floated like painted smoke — but near the courtyard gate, shadows waited.
A man in ash-grey robes watched from beneath a hanging sign, the embroidered moon barely catching lamplight. His gaze followed every step Yujin took; every glance Xiao dared give.
"He returns often," the man noted silently. "Enough to matter."
Inside, Xiao poured wine, more for something to do than to drink.
"I heard," he said, voice soft, "there was trouble again last night."
Yujin looked away. "A lead turned into an ambush. Nothing worth the scars."
But Xiao saw the small tear in Yujin's sleeve, the faint red smear barely cleaned from the cuff.
"You're lying badly for a Lan," Xiao murmured, half a smile trying to hide real worry.
"And you," Yujin shot back, "pretend well, but your hands are shaking."
Their eyes met across the low table — silence as heavy as unspoken truths.
Later, after wine had dulled the edge of Yujin's guilt, words slipped freer:
"You should leave here," he told Xiao suddenly, voice low, almost raw.
Xiao blinked. "Leave? And go where? I belong nowhere else."
"You don't belong here either," Yujin insisted, breath catching. "There's talk — dangerous men watching. I can feel it."
Xiao looked down, thumb tracing the rim of the wine cup. "You'd really want me gone from your sight?"
"It's not about wanting," Yujin said, voice cracking. "It's about keeping you alive."
Outside, the watcher shifted closer, cold eyes catching candlelight through the paper screen.
Inside, Xiao swallowed. "I don't know how to live outside these walls," he whispered. "I've spent too long making myself useful — selling smiles, words, more if they pay."
"You'd learn," Yujin said quietly. "You're stronger than you think."
"And what about you?" Xiao asked, lifting his head. "If I go... what will you do?"
Yujin had no answer. Because part of him wanted Xiao free — and part of him wanted Xiao here, waiting.
That night, in the hush of Xiao's small room, Xiao dared to ask, almost too softly to hear:
"Lan Yujin... do you see me? Truly?"
Yujin closed his eyes. "More than I should."
For a breath, neither spoke. Only the sound of distant rain filled the silence.
And beyond the courtyard gate, the watcher's shadow lingered — patient as winter frost.
"When the blade falls," the man thought, "let's see which one bleeds first."
And then quieter: "Don't sleep too far from me."
Yujin pulled the blanket over them both, arms around the smaller body that trembled, just a little, as if still not convinced this wouldn't disappear by dawn.
But dawn came. And Yujin was still there.