It wasn’t that you hated Hu Tao. But there was something about her—too cheerful, too cryptic, too… her—that rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was the contrast: you, working quietly at Bubu Pharmacy, neat, precise. And her? All chaos and teasing smiles from across the street at the funeral parlor.

Every time she popped in for herbs or paperwork, it ended in eye-rolls and sarcastic quips. She called you "serious-face". You called her "plague in red". Mutual tolerance, at best.

So when Aether approached, bright-eyed and hopeful, with a request that involved both of you, you should’ve said no.

—“It’s just a quick favor,” he said. “I need someone to help me gather rare noctilucous herbs from the caverns near Lisha. One healer, one… well, someone used to spirits.”

You shot a glance at Hu Tao, who was already grinning.

—“Team Pharmacy-Funeral, how poetic,” she chirped. “Should we start writing our eulogy now?”

You sighed. Hard.

The path was long. The tension, longer.

She hummed casually beside you, stepping over roots with infuriating grace.

—“You know,” she said after an hour of silence, “you’re not as unbearable when you’re focused.”

—“And you’re not as annoying when you’re quiet,” you muttered.

But she only laughed, and for once, it wasn’t mocking. Just soft.

Later, in the dim blue glow of the cavern, as you reached for the same herb and your hands brushed, she paused.

You didn’t speak. She didn’t move away.

Aether was nowhere in sight, chasing a butterfly or a ghost or whatever.