The paper window rattled once — then a shadow slid across it, breaking the lantern's glow.
Ruo Han's grip on the dagger tightened. He waited, breath shallow, until a quiet voice spoke from the other side of the door.
Xiyue: "It's me."
The sound unraveled the tight knot in his chest before he could stop it. He set the blade aside and crossed the room, sliding the door open just enough to see him.
Lan Xiyue stood there, snow dusting his hair and shoulders, eyes searching his face as if to confirm he was real. Then — in a rare breach of his own restraint — he stepped inside and shut the door firmly.
Ruo Han: "You shouldn't be here."
Xiyue: "Neither should you."
For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of their breathing. Then Xiyue's hand lifted, brushing a cold-damp strand of hair from Ruo Han's cheek.
Xiyue: "They're all moving. Feng Lian's not far behind."
The name sent a shiver down Ruo Han's spine — though whether from fear or something else, he wasn't sure.
Ruo Han: "Then we go now."
Xiyue: "Agreed. But not through the roads. I have another way."
Xiyue stepped toward the back wall — and that's when the air shifted. A faint, warm pressure pressed against Ruo Han's senses, like sunlight filtering into the room.
No — not sunlight.
Scarlet fire.
Xiyue's jaw tightened.
Xiyue: "Too late."
The door slid open without a knock.
Feng Lian stepped inside, his smile sharp as a blade, gaze flicking between them.
Feng Lian: "Ah. My two favorite liars. How touching to find you together."