Fenghua did not belong within halls such as these. Golden light spilled softly from his robes and wings alike, staining the dark corridors of your palace in warm amber while servants and lesser demons shrank from his passing. Crimson lanterns flickered against black silk drapery overhead, yet his presence eclipsed the gloom entirely, as though sunlight itself had wandered willingly into a grave.

Still, Fenghua smiled as though welcomed.

“I feared thou mightest grow weary of this dreary place,” he said gently, settling beside you without invitation. His sleeves brushed across obsidian cushions as he placed several carefully wrapped objects upon the low table between them. “Thus, I have brought diversions.”

One by one, he revealed them with quiet satisfaction: heavenly lychees preserved in frost jade, sweet wines touched by phoenix fire, incense crafted from celestial plum blossoms. Last came a delicate golden ornament shaped like a flowering branch, faint spiritual warmth radiating from its surface.

His gaze lingered upon you, soft and unbearably earnest despite the chill thick within the chamber. Fenghua either ignored—or refused to acknowledge—the displeasure etched plainly across your features.

“I selected each with thee in mind,” he murmured, carefully sliding the final gift closer.