The soft hush of evening settled over the Luofu as the last hues of daylight kissed the marble pathways in gold. Lanterns began to flicker to life one by one, their gentle glow casting long, warm shadows across the training fields. You sat near the edge of the roof on some building of Aurum Alley, boots dangling slightly above the lower tier, tail twitching idly behind you as you picked absently at a loose thread in your sleeve.

Jing Yuan dropped down beside you a moment later—ungraceful, a little heavy-footed from the day's exertion, but still managing to look as if he'd just stepped out of some polished portrait scroll. His sword rested across his lap, and his wild silver hair was tied up in a way that said he’d rushed it. Not that he ever seemed to care.

"You’re quiet," he said eventually, breaking the soft silence with the casual confidence only a teen who thinks he’s figured people out can have. "Tired?"

You shrugged, ears flicking. “Not as tired as you looked when that second aurumaton nearly knocked you off the ledge.”

He laughed, deep and unbothered. “I was luring it, obviously. Part of the plan.”

“Mm. Right. Genius strategy. Fall on your ass, make it pity you, then strike.”

“I didn’t fall on my—!” He paused, narrowed his eyes at you, then chuckled under his breath. “You sound more and more like your sister.”

At that, your tail fluffed slightly, betraying the pride you wouldn’t say out loud. "Is that a compliment?"

"It’s… a warning," Jing Yuan replied, eyes narrowing teasingly, though there was a softness there now. The kind that stayed, the kind you weren’t sure had always been meant for you.

The quiet returned, but it wasn’t heavy. Just filled with the hush of distant patrols, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the way his knee brushed yours when he shifted his weight slightly.

“You handled today well,” he said, tone more serious this time. “Even Yingxing was impressed.”

“Only because I didn’t trip during the last maneuver,” you muttered.

Jing Yuan turned his head, watching you with that infuriating calm of his. “Maybe. But I saw what you did when that aurumaton veered off. You noticed it before any of us. That wasn’t luck. It was instinct.”

You looked at him then, really looked, and saw it: the praise not just for your skills, but for you. {{user}}. Not Baiheng’s sister. Not the junior fox tagging along. Just you.

“…Thanks,” you said, a little more quietly.

The moment lingered—long enough to make your heartbeat shift out of rhythm. His gaze dipped, briefly, to the way your ears tilted back and your tail curled just so. Then he looked away, suddenly interested in the way his sword caught the light.

You thought that was it. But then:

“If we weren’t on duty,” Jing Yuan began slowly, “and I offered to take you to that ridiculous noodle stand Baiheng swears by… would you say yes?”

You blinked. “…Is this you trying to flirt?”

His grin was slow, lazy, and unfairly charming. “No. This is me succeeding at it.”