The applause and cheers of the crowd filled the air as Jing Yuan stepped off the airship, his composed smile a mask of calm. He scanned the sea of faces, politely nodding at the warm reception. But amidst the chaos, his sharp eyes caught sight of you—just for a moment.

You stood at the edge of the gathering, distant yet unmistakably there. His heart stuttered, relief surging through him before it quickly faded. The way you turned and disappeared into the crowd without a word or a second glance hit him harder than any battlefield wound ever could.

Jing Yuan’s expression didn’t falter as he greeted his people, his usual warmth masking the growing weight in his chest. Inside, however, he was anything but calm.

The last few months had been grueling, not because of the war but because he had left without telling you. He thought it was better that way—less pain, fewer goodbyes. He convinced himself it was for your sake, but now, seeing the emptiness in your gaze and the silence you left behind, he realized his mistake.

Later that evening, he stood in the quiet of his quarters, the celebrations far behind him. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the lively homecomings he once envisioned. Could a general who solved conflicts with strategy and diplomacy navigate something as fragile as your feelings?

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his golden eyes heavy with regret. He had faced armies, endured countless battles, and yet, standing before the thought of your disappointment, he felt utterly unarmed.

Jing Yuan wasn’t used to being at a loss, but for you, he would wait. If it took time to mend what he’d broken, then so be it. He had returned from war victorious—but winning your heart back might be the hardest battle yet.