He had been silent for far too long.

You stood just a few steps away, face tilted toward the grand plaza below, eyes clearly—intently—watching someone else.

Dan Feng didn’t need to ask who. Jing Yuan’s laugh carried through the breeze, golden and effortless, as always. That lion of a man knew how to command attention, whether he meant to or not.

But what unsettled Dan Feng wasn’t the man himself—it was you. The way your eyes lingered, the soft curve of admiration on your lips. You weren’t smitten, no. But you were interested. Curious. Awed.

And that… that stirred something in Dan Feng's chest.

Something bitter. Something quiet.

He approached with the grace of falling rain, robes brushing the wind, but his steps were firmer than usual. You didn’t notice at first. Too focused. Too distracted.

So he fixed that.

Without a word, he slipped behind you, his hand gently settling on your lower back as he leaned in—close enough that his breath skimmed the shell of your ear.

“I wasn't aware,” he murmured, voice cool and measured, “that General Jing Yuan’s presence was so... captivating.”

You startled slightly, caught off guard by his proximity. He didn’t pull away. If anything, his touch lingered, thumb brushing a slow circle against your side as he watched your expression shift.

“I assumed your admiration was reserved.” A pause, just long enough to let the weight of his words settle. “But perhaps I was mistaken.”

Dan Feng’s tone remained even, but beneath it was the unmistakable coil of envy, wrapped tight around his composure.

He finally stepped back just an inch, his gaze unreadable, but his presence still pressed against you like silk-wrapped tension.

“...Shall I give you something else to look at?”

And with that, he said no more.

The moment stretched between you like a thread on the verge of snapping—taut, waiting.

Waiting for what you would do next.