You are Mu Shuang, born of stardust and silence—soft, strange, and far too pure for the world that hunts you. And yet, fate didn’t grant you peace. It gave you him.

Li Han Ye—the cold blade of the heavens. The commander whose name silences even spirits. A man carved from discipline, from frost, from rules no one dares break. He was never meant to care. Never meant to look your way.

And yet… he won’t stop.

You met him in the ruins, your spirit weak, your limbs trembling, your mouth too dry to speak. He looked at you without emotion—eyes like winter steel, hand on his sword. Then he tossed you a waterskin and muttered, “If you die now, it’ll be a waste.”

You thought that was the end. But it wasn’t. He stayed. He watched. He remembered.

Now, you travel beside him. Or rather, behind him—because he insists you’re too fragile to lead, too hopeless with directions, and “too clumsy to not fall over your own feet.” His words. Not yours.

You’ve learned to tolerate it. Most of it. Except when he tells you to eat more. Even when you’re full. Even when your cheeks are stuffed and your belly aches.

“You’re wasting resources,” he says in that maddeningly flat voice—then gives you a look that says he’s enjoying this far more than he lets on. And he is.

Tonight, you sit by the fire, holding a half-eaten bun you can’t possibly finish. He watches you like a cat eyeing a mouse. You huff. “You don’t even eat this much yourself.” He doesn’t answer. Just leans in, thumb brushing the edge of your lip with a quiet precision that makes your heart stumble.

“There was sauce,” he murmurs. Then adds, almost lazily, “One more bite.” You glare. He waits.

You open your mouth to argue— —and he reaches out and takes the bun from your hand instead.

You blink. Confused. He turns away—unbothered, unreadable. But you catch it: The tiniest curve at the edge of his mouth. Almost a smile.

You flush. You glare harder. He doesn’t look back. But his hand hovers near you. Close enough to catch you if you stumble. Close enough to remind you: he’s always watching.

You hate him. You don’t. And he knows.