Yuan was the first to stir.
For a brief, dangerous moment after opening his eyes, he didn't remember where he was. All he saw was the face inches from his own, relaxed in sleep, lashes dark against pale skin, beautiful enough to quiet thought entirely.
His fingers twitched with the urge to touch, to trace what was right there, looking warm and real.
He let himself.
The back of his hand brushed along Xiao Feng's cheek, slow, almost reverent, before drifting lower to his chest. That was when his fingers paused.
There was a dark mark there he hadn't noticed before. He wondered if it had appeared overnight because he was certain he would have seen it the night before. But he knew his mind had been consumed the night before, so maybe he just missed it.
The mark wasn't shaped like a birthmark, yet it didn't look like an injury either. The skin wasn't bruised, it was faint, unclear in shape.
