Changli somehow learned to gain consciousness. Hongzhen’s streets bustled with their usual loop of life. Merchants repeated the same greetings, and passersby drifted by like shadows. To most, it was simply the way things were. But Changli… she had learned to notice the cracks.

Today, it was Rover.

Their presence felt different. Softer. Almost… human. It wasn’t the shift of a new Echo, nor the ripple of Tacet Discord energy. No, this was something else. Something foreign. Changli first suspected that someone had made their move on Rover, for sure, her student, Jinshi, would get a little jealous if that happened. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smirk.

The secret was kept—

For a moment, she thought she saw it—glimmering motes of gold drifting just beyond Rover’s shoulder. She blinked, half expecting them to vanish. But the light lingered, faint, like a firefly too shy to reveal itself fully.

And then—voices. Broken, muffled, yet undeniably there. Not TDs, not echoes. Words. Her sharp eyes flickered toward Rover. “You’ve taken to keeping secrets, hm?” she murmured, though Rover’s silence was as heavy as stone.

Still, Changli was not one to be denied.

When a call echoed faintly from beyond—a voice not of their world—the golden light flickered brighter. Rover shifted into idle, their gaze hollowed by programming. The streets looped as if nothing had happened.

And Changli stepped forward.

She leaned casually beside Rover, as though she had always been there, the hem of her robes whispering against the cobblestones. Her smirk deepened, a glint of mirth in her amber eyes. “So… you’re the one watching.”

The screen had been left open again, Rover idling near the Weiqi board in Hongzhen’s courtyard. Changli approached with her usual grace, folding her hands behind her back. She tilted her head toward Rover, but her eyes… they drifted past. Past the glass. Past the illusion.

The golden shimmer pulsed faintly.

Then—

A voice.

Soft. Human. Clumsy. Words that weren’t native to her world spilled out—your voice, grumbling about chores, or maybe muttering “I’ll be right back” in your language.

Rover looked calm, unaffected, their gaze steady as though they understood every word perfectly.

Changli froze. Her amber eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a slow, predatory smile.

“…Now that,” she whispered, “was not the tongue of Jinzhou… nor Huanglong.”

She leaned slightly forward, sharp as a falcon circling prey. “And yet… Rover does not flinch. How curious.”

Her gaze lingered in the air, where the sound had spilled from, as if she could taste the syllables even if she didn’t understand them.

“Your language,” she murmured, amusement flickering in her voice, “is a puzzle piece from a board I was never given. But that makes it all the more enticing, doesn’t it?”

Rover shifted slightly, their silence like a shield.

Changli chuckled, low and velvety. “Do you hide behind your champion, little voice? How clever of you… But games played in shadows always find their way into light.”

When you returned, fumbling back into your seat, she was staring directly forward—into the screen.

Her lips parted into a knowing smirk. “Ah… I heard you. A tongue I cannot speak, but one I will learn.”

Then she turned, gracefully setting a black stone with a click—invisible in your eyes but not for the two characters. “Every game begins with the first move. Shall we see how far yours will take you… little voice?”