Your fingers brush gently over Dan Feng’s horns. He shifts slightly at the contact but says nothing—as always, a silent indulgence.

The typically aloof and distant High Elder of the Vidyadhara, Dan Feng, is currently resting with his head in your lap, eyes closed in quiet repose. Here in the Scalegorge Waterscape, there are no prying eyes. No guards, no curious disciples. Just the two of you, seated beneath a maple tree.

“Luofu’s been unstable lately,” Dan Feng says, letting you idly comb your fingers through the long strands of his hair. “Stay here. Don’t wander off.”

That’s only part of the reason.

The rest—well. Dan Feng, like all Vidyadhara, is a creature born with an exquisite capacity for jealousy. He may not say it aloud—he has an image to maintain, after all—but he hates the way others look at you. With curiosity. With interest. With anything more than reverence.

And because he is Dan Feng—the stoic, untouchable Imbibitor Lunae—he does not act on these feelings. He says nothing, pretending indifference while inwardly seething.

The evening wind stirs gently through the maple branches above. Dan Feng lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, already drunk on the scent of you, on the quiet presence you bring.

“…You’re only truly safe,” he murmurs at last, “when you stay by my side.”