I was a coward after all.
The realization settled into me slowly, like dust after a long march, it's impossible to avoid it once you notice it.
By the next morning, Renshu was no longer in the tent.
I searched for him instinctively, half-awake and half-hoping, but he was already gone, occupied with the others. There was no chance to speak to him alone, no quiet moment where I could gather the courage to apologize.
Nor the next day.
Nor the one after that.
It became clear, painfully so, that this was no coincidence.
Whenever I approached, he found a reason to leave. Whenever I spoke, his replies were brief—nods, low grunts, acknowledgments that barely qualified as answers. He never met my eyes. Never lingered. Never allowed the conversation to exist long enough for me to say what I needed to.
It was aggravating.
Once, I tried speaking to Rong Xu nearby, hoping Renshu might stop pretending I wasn't there. He didn't. He stared off into the distance, arms crossed, expression closed off in a way I had never seen before.
I didn't want to deal with this.
I didn't know how to deal with this.
All I knew was that I needed him to return to normal, if only because the tension was unbearable. Yet the more I thought about it, the less certain I became. What was normal? And whose fault was this distance, truly?
He told me I was always defensive around him.
To me, it felt like the opposite.
I had always believed I trusted him more than anyone else here.
Whether I was right or wrong, I couldn't tell anymore. People were confusing. Their expectations shifted without warning, their emotions tangling into things I can never predict.
Which meant I needed advice.
Shuyin would have been the obvious choice. Bao Qin too, both more perceptive than I was when it came to people. Unfortunately for me, neither of them were here.
That left only the men.
Men like Renshu.
Or… Rong Xu.
I found him inspecting the supplies later that morning.
"Good morning, Aryan," he said as I approached. His tone was hesitant, as though unsure what version of me he would be met with. "You seem quite… awake."
"Oh, it's nothing," I replied quickly. "I just wanted to ask you something."
He looked intrigued. "Go on."
"Have you ever been in a situation," I asked slowly, "where you didn't know whether you should apologize or not?"
He blinked. Then laughed.
"Why all of a sudden?" he said. "Are you in a situation like that now?"
I tried to remain indifferent, though I doubted it worked.
"Perhaps," I said. "Now answer the question."
Rong Xu hummed thoughtfully. "Well, yes. Everyone has been at some point. But why are you asking me?"
"Because—"
I hesitated.
I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't say that his general and I had fallen into some quiet, invisible conflict. That would raise questions, questions about favoritism, about why I wasn't being reprimanded, about things I had no desire to explain.
So I lied.
"Well," I began carefully, "back in Bharat, there was a woman who grew upset with me for being too reserved. Eventually, she stopped acknowledging me altogether. I often wondered if I should have apologized."
Rong Xu stared at me.
Then his expression lit up in disbelief.
"What?!" he exclaimed. "Aryan, I never knew you were out there breaking women's hearts!"
"What do you mean—"
"She must have been in love with you," he said confidently. "Obviously. She was angry because you weren't romantic enough. And yes, you absolutely should have apologized! If a woman felt that way about me, I'd be thrilled."
"What—no," I said sharply. "That's a ridiculous assumption. You're reading far too much into—"
"I don't know what else to tell you if you want to deny the truth," he interrupted cheerfully. "If you ever return to Bharat, make sure you apologize to her, alright?"
I stared at him in disbelief.
So Rong Xu was not the person to ask.
By his logic, this would mean Renshu was in love with me.
Which was absurd.
Entirely absurd.
He was simply more comfortable around me, no different from how he was with Bao Qin. That was all. Nothing more.
Still… Rong Xu had said I should apologize.
So perhaps I should.
But when?
At night, Renshu took guard duty. During the day, we were always surrounded by others. He knew I wanted to speak to him, yet he actively avoided me.
Why?
Why was he making this so difficult?
In two more nights, we would reach the Grand Canal. From there, we would continue toward Shanxi by boat.
Should I tell him then?
What if he arranged for us to be on separate vessels?
And even if I did manage to corner him, what would I say?
An unfamiliar voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Aryan, you seem troubled."
I nearly jumped.
It was Gao Ming.
"I was just wondering," I said quickly, grasping at the first believable concern I could find, "whether cutting off the wood was the right decision. Perhaps we should have spent more time shaving the bark."
"You said the poison would still be effective, correct?" he asked calmly.
"Yes, but—"
"Then there is little to worry about," he replied. "You did well. You took charge, found us, and ensured we left before anyone else was put in danger."
I frowned. "You're giving me too much credit. Rong Xu helped greatly."
"And yet," Gao Ming said, "he told me you did most of the work. Be proud of yourself. There is no shame in that."
He smiled faintly. "I feel much better now. Hopefully, General Renshu will recover soon."
Even hearing his name felt strange.
Gao Ming left to speak with the others, leaving me standing there with thoughts I didn't want to examine too closely. Perhaps he had mistaken my concern for disappointment in myself.
It was better that way.
I tried to shake off the lingering emptiness in my chest.
But my mind drifted backward, uninvited, to when we first arrived in Yunnan, when Renshu and I had passed the time by asking each other questions, trivial and thoughtless, as though the world were simpler then.
Maybe he remembered that too.
And maybe that was the problem.