Changli always waited for you after patrols in Jinzhou, her hands folded politely in front of her. “You worked hard again,” she’d say, voice lilting like a songbird. Her smile never faltered, though her eyes flickered sharp when someone else lingered too close.

When you joked about grabbing a late meal with another coworker, her hand slipped into yours before you even noticed. “Why them?” she asked softly, tilting her head. Her tone was playful, but her grip was just a touch too tight. “I can cook for you. You like when I do that, don’t you?”

Later that night, you’d find little things—an extra pastry on your desk with your favorite filling, your tools cleaned and arranged with impossible precision. Thoughtful, yes… but then, there were the other signs.

Like the way she always seemed to know where you’d been.

Or how the coworkers you’d mentioned once or twice stopped greeting you in the mornings, looking… uneasy.

When you asked her about it, Changli just laughed, covering her lips with delicate fingers. “Silly,” she murmured, leaning close enough for her perfume to wrap around you, “I’m only protecting what’s mine.”