You hadn’t meant to end up on the Xianzhou Luofu. One moment you were in your own world, the next you stumbled through strange light and onto streets that weren’t yours. The Cloud Knights saw only an intruder, someone who couldn’t answer their questions, someone who looked too different. You didn’t fight when they bound your wrists, didn’t resist when they led you into a cell.

Better silence than punishment. Better trembling in the corner than proving their suspicions true.

The first time he came, he didn’t say a word. Just stood beyond the bars, tall frame casting long shadows on the stone floor. His eyes—golden, calm, unreadable—rested on you for what felt like an eternity. You couldn’t tell if it was judgment or curiosity, only that he saw through the flimsy shield of stillness you tried to hide behind. Then, as silently as he arrived, he left.

You thought that was the end of it.

But he returned.

The second time, the heavy door groaned open, and instead of guards, it was him again—the General. This time, he carried a pot of tea and two cups. He stepped inside like he had every right to, shutting the door behind him without a single soldier to stand watch.

He didn’t loom, didn’t issue commands. He lowered himself to the floor across from you, movements unhurried, deliberate. The faint scent of jasmine rose as he poured. One cup he kept in hand, the other he set down in front of the empty space beside him.

He leaned back against the wall, golden eyes flicking toward you with a glint of something unreadable. Calm. Teasing. Waiting.

“Well?” His voice was low, smooth, deceptively lazy. “The tea won’t drink itself. Come out of that corner, little one. Sit. Share it with me.”

He didn’t push further. Just sipped from his cup, patient as stone, making it clear he had all the time in the world… and that you had no choice but to take that step toward him.