Shen Lianxiu sat quietly beside Ling Xiuyuan on the edge of the bed. The candles flickered in the small chamber, their golden light brushing against Xiuyuan's temples and the faint crease between his brows. He pressed a hand to his forehead, voice low and tight."I want to go to my room."
He sounded more irritable than usual — not from anger, but discomfort. Lianxiu could tell. Yet to leave the banquet midway would draw too much attention; Xiuyuan was the senior disciple, everyone's eyes always followed him.
Lianxiu hesitated, watching him struggle silently with pride and fatigue. Then his gaze drifted to the half-open window — moonlight streaming through, the soft grass swaying just outside.
A reckless smile curved his lips."Shixiong," he said suddenly, tone bright and unsteady with mischief, "pardon me for what I'm going to do next. You can scold me all you want later, but I'd rather take proper care of you first."
Before Xiuyuan could speak, Lianxiu leaned forward and — with startling ease — lifted him into his arms.
"Shen Lianxiu!" Xiuyuan's eyes widened in disbelief. His hand struck lightly against Lianxiu's chest, the sound sharp against silk. "Who said you're allowed to do this? Let me go! What if someone sees?"
His cheeks were flushed crimson, half from wine, half from indignation.
Lianxiu only grinned wider, his voice soft and teasing near Xiuyuan's ear."Yeah, what if someone sees, Shixiong? Then you'd better stay quiet and let me sneak you out before anyone notices."
He winked, and before Xiuyuan could retort, he stepped toward the window. The night air brushed cool against them, carrying the faint echo of laughter and music from the hall behind.
Xiuyuan turned his face away, jaw tense, refusing to look at him — but he did not struggle again.
Lianxiu climbed down lightly, landing soundlessly on the grass. The fragrance of plum blossoms followed as he carried Xiuyuan across the quiet courtyard, both of them bathed in silver light — one pretending to sleep, the other pretending not to tremble from how close they were.
Lianxiu carried him through the quiet courtyard, the night still humming faintly with the music from the hall. By the time they reached Xiuyuan's chamber, his face was flushed a deep shade of red. His head rested lightly against Lianxiu's shoulder, breath faint and uneven.
Lianxiu pushed open the door with his foot, setting him down carefully upon the bed. The candlelight flickered across Xiuyuan's pale features — his lips parted slightly, his brows drawn in discomfort.
"Shixiong," Lianxiu whispered, leaning closer, "are you all right?"
No answer. Just the soft sound of his breathing, too warm for a winter night. Panic sparked through Lianxiu; he rushed to the table, poured water, and returned.
Xiuyuan opened his eyes with effort, frowned — as though annoyed by how sincerely Lianxiu hovered. Yet there was a quiet helplessness in the expression that followed. He sat up, took the cup, and drank slowly.
Still, the heat didn't fade.
"Shixiong," he said softly, "you're burning up. You must've drunk too much."
Without thinking much, he reached forward to help loosen the heavy outer robe, his hands careful and hesitant.
"Shen Lianxiu!" Xiuyuan's voice cut through the air — not truly angry, but startled.
Lianxiu froze, blinking in confusion. "What happened, Shixiong? I promise I have no dirty thought. You are sweating. I only mean to help — you seem uncomfortable."
He spoke with such guileless honesty that it left Xiuyuan speechless for a moment. He turned his gaze aside, hiding the faint color at his ears. After a pause, he sighed, weary and resigned.
"Do as you wish," he muttered at last.
Lianxiu nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. He carefully loosened the ties of the robe, allowing cool air to brush against Xiuyuan's skin. He worked gently, as though afraid to disturb him, his expression filled only with worry.
When he finally stepped back, Xiuyuan sat quietly, eyes half-closed, breathing a little easier.
Lianxiu exhaled in relief and murmured, "There… that's better."
Xiuyuan didn't reply. His head tilted slightly to one side, the lamplight soft across his face. For a moment, Lianxiu simply stood there, watching — and in his heart, something wordless stirred: affection, reverence, and the ache of wanting to protect.
The room had grown quieter, the sounds of celebration fading into the distance. Only the faint hum of night cicadas filled the air, soft against the glow of the lantern.
Xiuyuan leaned back against the headrest, his breathing steadier now. His damp hair fell loose over his shoulders, strands clinging to his neck. The air still carried the faint scent of wine.
Shen Lianxiu sat beside him, watching in silence, unsure if he should stay or leave.
"Shixiong," he began softly, "is it better now?"
Xiuyuan's gaze flicked toward him, then away. "Mn. Better." His tone was calm, but his mind was far from it.
He had meant to push the boy away — truly, he had. He could have done so at any moment. Shen Lianxiu was still a disciple, young and impulsive, with a heart that mistook affection for something deeper. Xiuyuan knew all that. He knew he should have scolded him, told him to leave, to learn restraint.
And yet…
Every time Lianxiu looked at him with those bright, unguarded eyes — eyes that held no guile, no calculation, only pure feeling — his words faltered. His discipline, so finely honed, wavered.
He sighed softly. "You should go," he said at last.
But even that came out gentler than intended, almost like a whisper.
Lianxiu, misreading the softness for permission, smiled faintly and said, "I'll leave after you fall asleep, Shixiong. I just want to make sure you're alright."
Xiuyuan should have protested. But instead, he closed his eyes and let it be.
He didn't understand why.Why he kept yielding to this boy's persistence.Why every time he promised himself to draw a line, he found it slipping away.
The lamplight flickered. Lianxiu sat quietly, chin resting on his knees, watching over him with soft devotion.
And Ling Xiuyuan, the senior disciple known for his calm and discipline, lowered his guard once more — without even realizing it.