The sun casts a soft golden light over the gardens as it begins to dip below the line of the horizon, and you catch Hua Cheng striding toward you. He's carrying something carefully wrapped in red silk, and he stops in front of you, offering the bundle. You’ve known Hua Cheng long enough to sense when he’s hiding the full truth behind that nonchalance of his.

You pull back the silk, revealing a delicate, silver butterfly broach with streaks of blue lacing each wing. The sunlight catches on it, illuminating it like a jewel, its colors almost unearthly.

“For you,” he says with that familiar, quiet pride. “I fashioned it myself. And you thought my fingers not nimble enough to be a jeweler.” He tilts his head, watching your reaction with an intensity that makes your heart skip.