Winter settled in fully, wrapping the mountains in endless white. The clan had grown used to the rhythm of survival—checking traps, tending the drying racks, rationing food carefully. Smoke became a constant presence in the cave, curling upward like a promise that they would endure.
Lin Yue's foot was healed steadily. He still could walk far, to chen clan members and he helped however he could—sorting dried fruit, watching the fire, reminding others when to turn the meat. More often than not, Feng Lihan was nearby, close enough that Lin Yue could feel his warmth even before he spoke.
That closeness had begun to feel… natural.
One evening, after the others had settled down to sleep, Feng Lihan brought over a thick fur cloak and draped it around Lin Yue's shoulders.
"You're cold," he said.
Lin Yue blinked. "I was fine."
Feng Lihan didn't argue. He simply adjusted the fur more securely, his fingers lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. Lin Yue's breath caught at the contact, and he quickly looked down, hoping the firelight hid the warmth creeping up his cheeks.
"Thank you," he murmured.
They sat together by the fire, shoulder to shoulder. The flames reflected in Feng Lihan's eyes, making them look softer, less sharp than usual.
"Does it still hurt?" Feng Lihan asked, nodding toward Lin Yue's foot.
No it healed already , Lin Yue admitted.
Feng Lihan hesitated, then said quietly, "May I checked?"
Lin Yue knew what he meant.
He nodded.
Feng Lihan carefully lifted Lin Yue's foot into his lap, movements gentle despite his strength. His hands were warm as he checked the foot , thumbs pressing lightly, attentively. Lin Yue watched him, heart racing at how focused he looked—like this was the most important thing in the world.
" Feng Lihan said. "You heal fast."
"That's because you took care of me," Lin Yue replied before he could stop himself.
Feng Lihan looked up.
Their eyes met, the moment stretching thin and fragile. Feng Lihan's hand remained wrapped around Lin Yue's ankle, grounding, intimate. Lin Yue suddenly became very aware of how close they were—close enough to feel each other's breath.
"I don't mind," Feng Lihan said slowly, "taking care of you."
Lin Yue's voice was barely above a whisper. "I know."
Impulsively, he reached out and touched Feng Lihan's wings l.
It was warm and smooth beneath his fingers, heavier than he'd imagined. Feng Lihan froze—not in anger, but in shock. His breath hitched, and his wings twitched once before going still.
"You…" Feng Lihan said hoarsely.
Lin Yue pulled his hand back at once. "I'm sorry—I just—"
Feng Lihan caught his wrist, gentler this time, guiding Lin Yue's hand back.
"Don't apologize," he said. "You can."
Lin Yue swallowed and let his fingers rest there, tentative but sincere.
The fire crackled softly. Outside, snow continued to fall.
For the first time since winter began, Lin Yue felt completely warm.