Zhezhi was quiet. Too quiet, sometimes.

You were used to noise — the kind that filled Rinascita’s halls with laughter, arguments, and training exercises. But whenever Zhezhi was involved, silence followed like a shadow.

It wasn’t that she didn’t speak. She just… observed.

Watched you, watched everyone, like you were all pieces in a puzzle she was constantly solving.

You pretended not to notice how often her gaze lingered on you.

You found her one evening in the library, stacks of books around her like a fortress. She was cross-legged on the floor, a cup of tea steaming gently beside her, eyes skimming page after page.

She didn’t look up when you entered.

“You know, some people use chairs,” you teased lightly, leaning against the bookshelf.

“I find the floor more efficient,” she replied flatly, flipping a page.