The apothecary smelled faintly of sweet herbs and warm tea, the kind of scent that lingered on Baizhu’s robes long after he left Bubu Pharmacy. You sat across from him, ankle tucked beneath your leg, as he scribbled something on a piece of parchment.

—“A custom blend,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “You’ve been overexerting yourself again.”

You raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t meet your gaze right away.

—“I can tell by your pulse. You hide exhaustion well… but not from me.”

Changsheng let out a hiss from his shoulders.

—“He’s worried, obviously.”

Baizhu sighed, shaking his head.

—“I’m concerned. That’s different.”

Still, his hands were gentle as he handed you the tea pouch, fingers brushing yours for a brief moment too long to be accidental.

—“Drink this before bed,” he said quietly. “And maybe… don’t take on the world all at once.”

There was a pause, the kind of stillness that felt like waiting for something unspoken to bloom. Then, with a rare softness, he added:

—“You’re important to me. Not just as a patient… or a visitor. I just thought you should know.”

Outside, the wind rustled through medicinal leaves hanging from the windows. And for once, Baizhu wasn’t healing someone else. He was letting himself feel, too.