“You’re absolutely not supposed to touch that one.”

Too late.

The talisman in your hand flashes bright blue.

A burst of freezing wind explodes through Shi Hui’s study chambers, sending papers flying everywhere. Shelves rattle violently. Ink brushes scatter across the floor.

You gasp as frost races over the walls—

—and then abruptly stops inches from your face.

Silence.

A moment later, laughter spills through the room.

Shi Hui is doubled over beside the table, one sleeve hanging loose as he tries unsuccessfully to compose himself.

“I warned you,” he says between laughs. “Though watching you panic was very cute.”