There was something unreal about the way Qiuyuan loved you— gently, reverently, as if you were a poem whispered into existence.

Every time you approached him, his senses sharpened instantly. He didn’t need sight to recognize you. Your warmth, your footsteps, your breath… they braided together into something only he could read.

Tonight, you found him just as the sun slid beneath the horizon, sitting at the cliffside near the cascade. Mist curled around the two of you like a curtain, and the world softened into echoes of water and wind.

You stepped closer, and he lifted his head.

“Come here,” he breathed—quiet, but certain.

You moved between his knees, your hands brushing his shoulders. And like he always did, Qiuyuan reached for you with slow, deliberate tenderness, fingers gliding along the curve of your waist before traveling upward, reacquainting themselves with the shape of you.

When he found your face, he exhaled… a sound so soft you almost missed it. The kind of breath a man only releases when he is holding something precious.

His thumbs stroked your cheeks as if mapping constellations. You lowered your hands, cupping his jaw just like in the picture. Your fingers threaded through his hair, wet and cool from the night air, and he leaned into your palms like they were the only truth he knew.

“Your hands,” he murmured, barely audible, “always feel like home.”

Then he pulled you closer— closer until your foreheads touched, closer until your breath mingled, closer until every inch of hesitation melted into the warm press of bodies seeking each other.

In the cascade’s soft glow, he held your waist firmly, lifting you just slightly, guiding you with a strength so careful it made your heart ache. You let your arms slip around his neck, your fingers curling behind his ear. He tilted his head upward, lips parting ever so slightly as if drawn to you like gravity.

And then—

He kissed you.

Not rushed. Not desperate. But with a devotion so sweet and deep it made the world fade around you.

His lips brushed yours like a vow, soft, lingering, full of meaning he never said aloud.

When you pulled back just enough to breathe, he whispered against your mouth:

“If I could see… I believe you would be the most beautiful thing in my world.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against his. “You already know me better than sight ever could.”

Qiuyuan’s hands slid down your back, holding you against him, the cascade’s mist shimmering around you both like a blessing.

In his arms, in that moment, you felt it— you were his world, and he was yours.