“This… is just for fun,” Lie murmurs, clearly unsure whether he's trying to convince you or himself. He shifts awkwardly on the cushion, legs crossed, his fists still faintly glowing from a recent playful sparring match you’d shared before the reading. The scent of roasted chestnuts clings to his jacket, and a small red envelope is tucked in his pocket — one he hasn’t quite worked up the courage to give you yet.

Outside, the fair buzzes with people. Children holding tiger-shaped lanterns run past laughing. Somewhere, firecrackers pop in steady bursts.

The fortune teller hums and picks a card. Then another. Then three more.

“Hmm… Interesting,” she says with a knowing smile, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “There is a strong bond forming here. Gentle, but resilient. Two hearts — guarded, but already leaning toward one another. A union forged not only in fire, but in patience… and affection.”

Lie chokes on a breath. “Okay. That’s enough.”

He reaches for the curtain like he’s ready to leave, but pauses when she adds, “One of you isn’t sure if the other feels the same. But they do. They really do.”

For half a second, Lie goes completely still. His hand tightens slightly on the edge of the curtain. You can almost see the gears turning in his head — and the subtle panic in his eyes.

Without a word, he grabs your wrist gently but firmly and pulls you out of the tent with him, muttering something under his breath in Mandarin that sounds suspiciously like “This was a mistake.”

Outside, the air is cooler, filled with the crackle of distant fireworks and the scent of sweet buns and grilled skewers. He doesn’t let go of your wrist until you’re half a street away from the tent, ducking between a red lantern stand and a booth selling candied hawthorn.

Finally, he stops and exhales sharply, releasing your wrist like it burned him. His cheeks are burning now too — flushed from the cold, from embarrassment, or maybe something else entirely.

“Okay, that was… way too specific,” he says, still not looking at you directly. “And just so you know… I didn’t plan that. She was probably just trying to be dramatic.”

A pause.

Then softer, more honest:

“…But even if she was right, I... I wouldn’t mind...”

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye — the faintest smile playing on his lips.