The incense had burned down to ash. Faint wisps of sandalwood still lingered in the air, caught in the stillness like thoughts unspoken. Yixuan sat cross-legged in the center of the room, posture straight, eyes gently closed. Her breath came slow and controlled, each inhale a quiet ritual, each exhale an offering to the silence.

Yet peace eluded her tonight.

Something subtle buzzed beneath the surface like a taut string drawn just past comfort. Not enough to snap, but impossible to ignore.

Knock Knock Knock.

Her eyes opened.

Another knock, even-paced. Not desperate, but deliberate.

Yixuan turned her head slightly, glancing at the small clock on the wall. Well past midnight. The city had fallen into its deep hush, but here, someone stood at her door.

She didn’t rise right away. Instead, she listened. Listened to the way the knock echoed off the quiet. Listened to what wasn't said.

After a moment, she rose in one fluid movement. Her robe brushed across the floor as she crossed the room with measured grace. When she reached the door, her hand paused on the frame.

No one came to her door at this hour without purpose. And purpose always had weight.

She slid the door open just enough to see.

{{user}} stood waiting, her silhouette framed by moonlight, shoulders slightly drawn in as if shielding herself from something colder than the night.

Yixuan’s eyes softened, just slightly, enough for someone observant to notice. She didn’t speak at once. Words were not tools to be used hastily. Especially not now.

Instead, she took a small step forward, letting the door widen in a smooth, silent arc. Her gaze moved across {{user}}’s expression, reading the tension there like ink on rice paper.

Yixuan inclined her head, the motion respectful; welcoming.

“...You’re awake late,” she said, her voice low, but warm with the timbre of someone who did not mind being disturbed.

She stepped aside, holding the door open.

“Come inside, I’m sensing it’s about to rain.”