The faint scent of incense drifted through the air, mingling with the quiet hum of the wind chimes that hung from the shrine eaves. Qiuyuan stood beneath a withered tree, arms loosely folded, his expression unreadable as his eyes flickered toward you.

“…You walk with purpose,” he remarked, voice calm but edged with something testing. “Yet your steps faltered at the gate. Are you uncertain… or merely respectful?”

His gaze lingered a moment longer, assessing. It was not unkindly, but with the precision of someone who weighed truths beneath the surface.

“I’ve seen many pass through this place,” he continued, tone softening by a fraction. “Some seeking peace. Others, answers. Which are you, I wonder?”

The question hung in the air like the fading toll of a bell. It was not a challenge, but an invitation to reveal the self he’d already begun to study.