The air in the hallway outside Dan Heng’s quarters was unusually quiet. A faint breeze from the open window carried the scent of late autumn — crisp and slightly sweet. You had come to find him to ask a question you’d been meaning to for the past hour, but your timing, unfortunately, would turn out to be catastrophically bad.

Dan Heng’s door was slightly ajar. You frowned. He was supposed to be in the training hall. Maybe he’d just come back early. Without thinking, you pushed the door gently.

And then—oh no.

What you stepped into was not the scene of Dan Heng lounging in quiet study. No, instead, it was something far more mortifying.

Dan Heng. Shirtless. Changing. His long dark hair was tied up in a loose bun, his lean muscles flexing as he slipped a shirt over his head. The faint sound of fabric rustling filled the air. His skin was smooth, glowing faintly under the warm light of the room.

And then he noticed you.

His expression froze. His hand mid-motion. His eyes widened just a fraction before narrowing again in embarrassment. “You—uh…” His voice faltered.

You froze too, entirely certain you had just committed the worst possible social crime: barging in on Dan Heng while he was changing. Your brain short-circuited. You stood there like an idiot, unable to move. And your face was burning.

“I—I’m so sorry!” you stammered, turning red instantly. “I didn’t think—The door… I thought—” Words spilled out in chaotic nonsense.

Dan Heng blinked slowly, as if processing the incident with deliberate patience. Then his lips curled into something that almost looked like a smirk. “You didn’t think, huh?” he said, his voice low, teasing.

You wanted to sink through the floor. But before you could find the right words to retreat, you heard yourself—entirely by accident—whistle.

Just a soft, playful whistle.

It was wrong. It was absolutely wrong. But somehow… you did it anyway.

Dan Heng froze again. His head tilted slightly, looking at you like you’d just announced you’d stolen the moon. His cheeks flushed faintly. “You… whistled?” he said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

You cleared your throat. “It’s not what it sounds like!” you protested—though your voice squeaked slightly, betraying your own embarrassment.

Dan Heng narrowed his eyes and took a step closer, still shirtless. The movement made your heart hammer painfully in your chest. “Not what it sounds like?” he repeated, his tone amused. “I think it sounds exactly like… mischief.”

You blinked, and then—despite your embarrassment—decided to make it worse. You whistled again, louder this time, with a teasing lilt.

Dan Heng blinked, caught completely off guard. His lips twitched as he fought to keep a straight face. Then, without warning, he sighed and shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

You smirked faintly despite yourself. “Maybe you like impossible.”

That made him pause. You could almost feel the shift in the air, a mix of awkwardness and something dangerously playful. Dan Heng looked at you in silence for a moment—shirtless, slightly flushed, hair falling loose around his face.

And then he smiled.

You tried to back out of the room to give him space, but somehow your foot caught the rug at the doorway, and you stumbled forward dramatically. Dan Heng reached out instinctively to steady you… and ended up grabbing your wrist firmly.

“Careful,” he said, his tone amused but also slightly warm. His gaze lingered on you in a way that made your chest feel both light and heavy at once.

“I’m fine,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing utterly. You tripped backward again—this time on purpose, just to keep the moment going.

Dan Heng’s lips quirked upward in silent amusement. “Deliberate, huh?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a mischievous grin. “Maybe I just wanted to see your reaction.”

Dan Heng raised a brow, clearly unimpressed—but there was something playful about the way his shoulders relaxed. “You succeeded,” he said quietly.