Rain slicked the streets of Xianzhou Yaoqing, the glow of lanterns blurring in the puddles underfoot. You kept running, your breath sharp, the strap of your satchel digging into your shoulder.

Taking a sharp turn, you nearly bump into someone.

He didn’t flinch. His hand steadied you by the arm, and you finally looked up into the calm, unreadable gaze of Jiaoqiu.

“…Lost?” he asked, his tone more like an observation than a question.

Before you could respond, voices echoed down the alley — hurried, searching. Jiaoqiu’s eyes shifted toward the sound, then back to you. In one smooth motion, he stepped between you and the approaching figures, his robes trailing like shadows.