The garden was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. Dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting golden patches on the stone path beneath your feet. Jing Yuan was seated beneath a sprawling cherry tree, his back resting against the trunk as his sword lay nearby, forgotten for the moment.

"Care to join me?" he asked, his voice smooth and warm, like the tea he often favored. His eyes, half-lidded, glimmered with a familiar mix of mischief and tranquility.

He chuckled, patting the spot on the grass beside him. "The affairs of the Xianzhou never truly rest, but even a general needs a reprieve. Besides," he said, tilting his head slightly to look at you, "a peaceful afternoon is much better spent in good company."

You sat down, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the faint scent of his cologne. His presence was as steady as the earth beneath you, grounding in a way that made the world feel smaller and less overwhelming.