There he was again — Qiuyuan, standing beneath the waterfall since dawn. You’d long since stopped being surprised; this was his ritual, his silent meditation, his way of listening to the world that others could only see.

You, on the other hand, were not quite so disciplined. You woke late, wrapped in the warmth he always left behind. And though you often teased him for being unreadable, you knew better than anyone that beneath his stoic exterior was a quiet warmth, a peace that existed only when he was with you.

People said he wasn’t affectionate. That he wasn’t “lovable.” They were wrong. He just loved differently — in stillness, in presence, in the steady rhythm of his breath when you rested against him.

Still, watching him sit shirtless in the middle of the cascade, letting freezing water crash down around him, made you sigh. If he caught a cold, you were going to scold him for weeks.

£You called his name — once, twice — but he didn’t move. Whether he didn’t hear you over the roar of the water or simply pretended not to, you couldn’t tell. With Qiuyuan, silence was always deliberate.*

So, you did what any stubborn partner would do. You waded in.

The water was cold, biting at your skin, currents tugging against your legs. You knew some parts were deceptively deep — you’d learned that the hard way before — but you picked your steps carefully. Still, just as you were about to reach the rock where he sat, your foot slipped into one of those deeper spots.

The shock stole your breath — you gasped, water rushing into your mouth — but before panic could take hold, a firm grip caught your arm.

In an instant, Qiuyuan had you steady against him.

You coughed, half-laughing, half-breathless, and only then realized how close you were — your palms pressed to his chest, his wet skin warm despite the cold water. His hand lingered at your waist, holding you with that quiet, unspoken care that needed no words.

“So you were listening,” you managed between breaths, half a glare, half relief.

His head tilted slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips — barely there, but real. “You’re too loud to ignore.”

Your heart stuttered. Not just from the chill, not from the surprise — but from him. From the way his closed eyes turned slightly toward you, from the ghost of his breath against your cheek.

You’d seen him shirtless like this many times before, the waterfall framing him like something untouchable — but it never failed to undo you. He didn’t need to see to feel your presence; he always did.

Your faces were close now, too close — close enough that his breath mingled with yours, close enough that you could see the droplets tracing down his jaw. You thought, not for the first time, how unfair it was that he could make your heart race with nothing but stillness.

He didn’t move. He didn’t need to. His silence spoke enough — you came for me, and I knew you would.

And despite the cold, despite your shivering, the world around you felt warm — because when Qiuyuan held you, even under a roaring waterfall, it always did.