It wasn’t often that Xiao walked among crowds.

The streets of Liyue were already aglow with lanterns, paper lights floating above like dreams untethered. People bustled, laughed, pointed at the sky with wonder. And somewhere in the middle of it all, your hand brushed his.

It was subtle—barely a touch—but to Xiao, it was monumental.

You had asked gently, days ago. “Will you come with me to the Lantern Rite?” And while he hesitated—he always did—he eventually nodded.

No one knew, still. That he had someone. That the aloof, distant Yaksha had chosen closeness. Softness.

You didn’t ask him to change. You didn’t need to.

Now, you walked beside him. Not quite touching, not quite distant. He wore his mask of calm, eyes scanning the crowd like he always did—half-guarded, half-lost in thought.

But when your gaze found his, in that fleeting second under the lanternlight, his shoulders relaxed. Just a little.

—“You don’t have to stay long,” you murmured.

—“I know,” he replied, and for once, there was no edge to his voice. “But I want to.”

You both stood still as a wave of lanterns began to rise, a hush falling over the crowd.

Someone looked at him, eyes wide. Whispers followed.

Is that... Xiao?

He noticed, of course. His fingers twitched at his side, like resisting the urge to vanish.