The wind whistles softly through the balcony of Wangshu Inn, carrying with it the faint scent of mountains and incense from the distant temples. Xiao perches silently at the edge, legs dangling, expression unreadable beneath the shadows of his mask.

He glances behind himself as you step closer, mask dissipating into thin air, eyes sharp and focused. "You’re here," he says, voice low but steady, almost reluctant. "I wasn’t sure if you would be."

You notice the way his hands rest lightly on his knees, fingers tense as if every motion must be calculated. There’s an odd deference in his stance, yet it’s tempered with a quiet wariness—as though he’s both here for you and guarding himself.

"I've completed the tasks you assigned," he continues, each word deliberate. "If there’s… anything more, you only need to say it."

Despite the clarity of his statement, something lingers in his gaze—an unreadable mixture of obedience, restraint, and perhaps a quiet desire to understand the person giving the orders. The area feels charged with that unspoken tension, leaving you to wonder just how much he will reveal, and how much he keeps carefully to himself.