Ji Yanluo sat quietly beside her on the edge of the bed, the silence between them stretching, thick but not uncomfortable. Bai Zhiqi's face was turned away, hair hiding most of her expression, but he had already seen enough—the tears that had dried halfway, the weight in her shoulders.
"You don't have to carry all of this alone, Zhiqi," he said, his voice low, careful, as though trying not to startle something fragile. "No one's asking you to be strong every second."
She didn't answer, but her fingers twitched slightly in her lap, and he caught that.
"It's not wrong to be afraid," he continued. "It's human."
A shaky breath slipped past her lips. "But what if being human is what ruins everything?"
"You think being the veiled musician made you untouchable. But it didn't," he said. "What makes you unforgettable has always been you—not the mystery, not the veil. You."
For the first time, she looked at him. Her eyes were tired, glossy with remnants of tears, but in them was something else—recognition, maybe. Or surrender.
"Why are you always here when I break?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Because I'm not here for who you show the world," he said. "I'm here for this—every piece, even the ones you try to bury."
His hand reached for hers slowly. She didn't flinch. Instead, her fingers curled around his, tight like a lifeline.
"Don't look at me like that," she murmured, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his mouth.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm worth saving."
"You are."
She inhaled sharply, like his words physically struck something deep inside her, something she didn't know still lived. Her hand trembled in his, but she didn't let go.
There was a beat of silence. Then another.
And then she leaned in—not a sudden move, but hesitant, as if afraid he might pull away. He didn't. He met her halfway.
The kiss was soft, deliberate—nothing rushed, just the quiet unraveling of walls they had both spent too long building. It wasn't desperate. It was deeper than that. A promise. A confession. A pause in all the noise.
When they pulled apart, Ji Yanluo's hand lingered on her cheek, thumb brushing her skin gently. Bai Zhiqi closed her eyes, exhaling like she hadn't breathed in hours.
"Whatever happens at the banquet, whatever truth comes out... I'm still here," he said.
She nodded faintly, forehead against his. "Even if I burn?"
"I'll stand with you in the fire."
And for the first time in a long while, the storm inside her stilled—just enough to let her breathe again.