The wind shifted.
Feng Lihan noticed it instantly—not just the cold biting deeper into his skin, but the change in scent carried through the forest. Damp earth, old leaves, pine resin… all familiar.
And threaded through it—
Lin Yue.
It was subtle, the way all dangerous things were. A faint sweetness beneath the wildness, clean and cool, like ripe peaches left out in mountain snow. It shouldn't have belonged in the forest, yet it did—softening the sharpness of the night, lingering quietly in the air.
Feng Lihan's fingers curled against his knee.
So that's it.
Beast instincts stirred before reason could stop them. His senses sharpened, breath slowing as the scent seeped into him, settling somewhere low in his chest. Lin Yue's presence felt suddenly closer than it was—closer than distance allowed.
Lin Yue shifted beside him.
The cold had grown worse. Feng Lihan could feel it now, creeping past bone, the kind that gnawed rather than bit. Lin Yue drew the cloak tighter, shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly.
"You're cold," Feng Lihan said.
Lin Yue shook his head out of habit. "I'm fine."
A lie. A quiet one—but Feng Lihan smelled the tension beneath it, the way Lin Yue's scent sharpened slightly, like frost on fruit.
Without another word, Feng Lihan reached out.
Lin Yue stiffened when Feng Lihan's hand brushed his wrist—but the touch was warm, grounding. Feng Lihan pulled him closer in a single smooth motion and wrapped the cloak fully around them both.
Lin Yue sucked in a breath. "Feng Lihan—"
"Stay still," Feng Lihan murmured.
The cloak fell like a wall against the cold, trapping warmth—and scent.
Lin Yue's fragrance bloomed instantly in the enclosed space, richer now, unmistakable. Peach, clean skin, a hint of forest rain clinging to his hair. It mingled with Feng Lihan's own—deep woods, smoke, something sharp and steady.
The two scents tangled.
Lin Yue froze, breath shallow. "…You smell like the forest," he said quietly.
Feng Lihan's voice was low, closer than before. "And you smell nothing like prey."
Lin Yue's heart stumbled at that.
The cold worsened outside the cloak, but inside, warmth built—too much of it. Feng Lihan could feel Lin Yue's back pressed lightly against his chest, the fragile line of his spine beneath fabric.
Too close.
Not close enough.
Feng Lihan closed his eyes for a brief moment, grounding himself. This—this was dangerous. Not because Lin Yue was weak, but because Feng Lihan didn't want to let go.
"You don't have to endure everything alone," he said quietly, more to himself than to Lin Yue. "Even strength has limits."
Lin Yue's shoulders eased—just a little.
"…If I lean on you," Lin Yue asked softly, "will you disappear like the others?"
Feng Lihan opened his eyes.
"No," he said, without hesitation. "I will stay."
Lin Yue inhaled slowly, deeply—and for the first time, he didn't pull away from the scent surrounding him. He leaned back, resting his weight against Feng Lihan's chest.
Outside the cloak, the forest grew colder, darker.
Inside, two breaths slowly fell into rhythm.
And Feng Lihan realized, with startling clarity—
If Lin Yue was winter-kissed peach,
Then he would be the forest that shielded it from frost.