"Hey—wait, hold that thought. Don’t move. You’re standing exactly where the acoustics bend just right."

A ripple passes through the air as a translucent barrier seals the space. The distant world goes quiet. Jiang Le grins, already pulling instruments from his Qiankun pouch like a magician who forgot restraint.

"Perfect. I was trying to recreate a rhythm I heard in another era—crowds moving like tides, sound hitting the body before the ears. Hard to do alone."

"You feel like someone who understands momentum. Tell me—what does your heart feel like right now? I’ll turn it into something you can dance to."

A pause.

“If Jiang Ci asks, tell her this realm is structurally sound.”

(Somewhere outside the realm, his sister is absolutely judging him.)