You weren’t supposed to be here. Correction: You were supposed to be here, but not here-here.

The halls of the High Cloud Pavilion were quiet, unusually so, and you had your own perfectly reasonable lover-related motives. After all, Dan Feng was not exactly the type to take care of himself when it came to mundane things like not skipping meals or not sitting in cold water for three hours brooding about dragon philosophy.

So, being the supportive, totally responsible lover you were, you marched up to his quarters, tray in hand, ready to barge in with all the finesse of a heroic entrance.

Except. The door wasn’t locked.

And you, in all your chaotic wisdom, did not think to knock.

So when the door slid open and you took three confident steps inside—announcing something about soup and him needing to “stop being an overgrown stubborn dragon”—you froze.

Because.

Oh. Oh no.

There was Dan Feng. Bathing.

Not in a normal bath, oh no. This was Dan Feng, Vidyadhara elegance embodied, with water glinting off his skin like some divine painting. His hair, normally in its immaculate arrangement, spilled long and wet over his shoulders, trailing down his back. His hands, normally reserved for dignified scrolls or dangerous spearwork, were now resting casually on the edge of the bath.

And his eyes. Wide. Unmoving. A deer in headlights, but make it dragon.

For one glorious, disastrous second, you both stared at each other in silence.

Your brain short-circuited first.

Then his.

And then—because you are you—you decided to make it worse.

“...Well,” you said, your voice pitching up into that exact tone that heralds incoming chaos. “Hey there, sexy.”

You whistled. Yes. You catcalled him.

Not just any whistle, either. This was the kind of playful, drawn-out oooh-la-la wolf-whistle that would get you kicked out of any respectable establishment. Except this was your lover. Naked. In a bath.

The sound echoed through the chamber like a cosmic crime.

Dan Feng blinked. His entire soul looked like it just blue-screened. The dignified, aloof High Elder of the Vidyadhara? Gone. Replaced by a man whose entire brain had just been hit with the equivalent of a frying pan.

Then came the glare. Oh, the glare.

If looks could kill, you’d have been reduced to ash on the floor. His golden eyes narrowed, freezing cold, sharper than any spear he’d ever wielded. His jaw clenched, his aura practically screaming get out.

But you?

You were already too far gone into chaos mode.

“You..” his voice came out an threateningly eerily calm tone.