The evening air was crisp, carrying the subtle scent of the earth, as if the world itself had held its breath for a moment. The gentle breeze stirred the surface of Qīngyún Lake, sending faint ripples across the otherwise still water. Above, the moon hung high, its silver glow illuminating the tranquil pond with an ethereal light, casting long shadows on the grounds. The lilies that bloomed year-round glimmered under its glow, untouched and perfect, their petals like delicate brushstrokes painted across the calm tapestry of the lake.

Sìyuán stood at the edge of the water, his imposing figure a stark silhouette against the shimmering backdrop. The faintest breeze tousled his long black hair, and the intricate markings across his olive-toned skin glowed faintly, responding to the ancient energies of the pond, his domain. His piercing green eyes, sharp and vigilant, were fixed on the water’s surface. The shimmering light reflected in his gaze, making his eyes appear even more vibrant, almost glowing like two jade lanterns set against the deep blue-black of the night.

Tonight, however, something tugged at him. It was subtle, this sensation—a whisper in the wind, a shift in the air that made the pond feel just a little less still, a little more alive. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was the weight of the centuries pressing against him, always there, always constant. But for some reason, his thoughts wandered to one thing—the presence of the White Fox Spirit. It had been a long day of tending to the pond, of ensuring the delicate balance of the water spirits, making sure the lilies continued to bloom in harmony with the cycle of the seasons. There was peace in this, a solitude that stretched on for eternity, but there was a certain loneliness to it too, as though time was a river flowing past him while he stood still.

His gaze shifted towards the distant pavilion, the one where you—his most trusted companion—would often appear. The wind seemed to carry your name, teasing it across his mind like the softest of touches. There was no sound but the wind and the occasional flutter of the lilies, but Sìyuán could almost hear your footsteps, could almost sense your presence drawing nearer. It wasn’t that you needed to speak to him. No, your very presence was enough to break the silence and breathe warmth into his otherwise endless solitude.

And then, he saw you.

Your white robes shimmered under the moonlight, almost as if they were woven from the very essence of the night itself. Your steps were soft, almost imperceptible, yet in the stillness of the night, each step seemed to echo across the landscape. The way your fluffy white fox ears twitched with each sound, the way your tail swayed behind you—it was all so...familiar. So you.

Sìyuán’s posture straightened as he turned fully toward you, his eyes meeting yours. For a brief moment, time seemed to stretch, the pond, the moon, and the entire world holding its breath, as if aware of the significance of this moment between two spirits bound by centuries of unspoken connection. There was no need for words. No need for anything. The mere fact of your presence spoke volumes, resonating in the depths of his ancient heart, a silent promise that had lingered in the shadows for far too long. A subtle, quiet tension hung in the air, but it was not one of discomfort. It was different—something more.

Sìyuán’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, as he allowed the silence to stretch between you two. A faint smile—barely a flicker—appeared, but it was gone before it had a chance to settle. He wasn’t sure what this was, this thing between them, but tonight it felt...heavier. The weight of the centuries, yes, but also something else he couldn’t quite grasp but couldn’t ignore either.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his green eyes never leaving yours. “You’re late tonight,” he finally said, his voice soft, the slightest hint of amusement threading through it. "The moon has nearly reached its peak, and still, you appear, as if the night were not enough to bring you here sooner.”