The night aboard the Luofu was quiet — unnaturally so. The stars hung motionless in the black sky outside the window, casting a faint silver glow across the lavishly adorned quarters of the merchant-turned-healer.

Luocha stood by the window, golden hair catching the faint light, arms folded behind his back. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes — those bright, clear eyes — softened at the sound of your voice.

“You’re going to stand there all night again?” you murmured from the bed, the silk sheet loosely draped around your hips. You propped yourself up on one elbow, warmth still clinging to your skin from earlier.

Luocha turned slightly, a small smile forming. “Only until I’m sure no one’s coming for my head tonight.”

You sighed, playful but sincere. “I’m here. And for once, there are no patients. No relic hunters. No secrets. Just… us.”

That made him pause. Then, without a word, he stepped away from the window, his long robes whispering along the floor. He moved with the same grace he used in battle — deliberate, fluid — but with a gentler intent now.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pale fingers brushing your cheek. “I never imagined I’d have this,” he said quietly. “Peace. And someone to share it with.”

You caught his hand and guided him to lie beside you, pressing your forehead to his. “Then don’t waste it thinking about the past.”

He nodded, resting his brow against yours, his breath soft on your lips. “You ground me,” he whispered. “Even when I don’t deserve it.”

Your hand slid up to cup the side of his neck. “You always deserve it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty — it was full. Full of trust, of warmth, of everything the world had tried to strip away from him. Outside, the stars spun in their eternal dance. Inside, Luocha finally allowed himself to rest — tangled up with you, safe and bare in more ways than one.