When you arrived at Bubu Pharmacy, the last person you expected to open the door was him.

Baizhu stood in the threshold, looking a little too calm for someone who had just asked you—his ex—to come help with Qiqi. His eyes scanned your face for a reaction, but when you didn’t say anything, he stepped aside with that familiar quiet grace.

—“I wouldn’t have called if it weren’t necessary,” he said finally, voice low as he poured tea into two cups. “Aether is… unavailable. You were the only one I could trust.”

The words should have stung. Maybe they did. But Qiqi needed someone, and if nothing else, you still cared about her.

The pharmacy was just as you remembered. Shelves of ingredients labeled in Baizhu’s meticulous handwriting, the soft rustle of Qiqi humming as she stacked dried Glaze Lilies into small bundles.

—“She doesn’t say it, but she missed you,” Baizhu added, not meeting your eyes.

You spent the afternoon helping Qiqi sort herbs and brew mild tonics. She worked in silence, occasionally glancing at you with her usual blank expression—though there was something softer there too.

When Baizhu finally returned, the sun was beginning to set. He watched the two of you from the door, arms crossed, and you could tell he’d been standing there a while.

—“You… still remember how things are done,” he murmured, almost to himself.

As you handed him Qiqi’s notes for the day, your fingers brushed, and he hesitated.

—“If things were different,” he started—but you shook your head gently.

You didn’t need to reopen old wounds. But as you turned to leave, Qiqi tugged at your sleeve.

—“You should come back tomorrow,” she said.