The night grew colder as the fire shrank, flames curling low and red like a resting beast. Feng Lihan added another piece of wood, watching the sparks rise before fading into the dark.
Lin Yue sat opposite him, knees drawn up, chin resting on his arms. His earlier ease had not fully returned. Feng Lihan noticed—the way Lin Yue's gaze drifted too often to the forest, the way his smile came a heartbeat late.
"You don't have to be tense," Feng Lihan said quietly. "No one here will harm you."
Lin Yue smiled at that, but it was softer than before. "I know. It's just… habit."
"From your clan?" Feng Lihan asked.
"Yes," Lin Yue replied without hesitation. Too quickly.
Feng Lihan didn't miss it. He leaned back against the tree, eyes half-lidded, voice calm. "You speak as if you've seen many kinds of places. More than someone raised deep in the forest should."
Lin Yue's fingers tightened around his sleeve.
The fire popped loudly, filling the silence. For a moment, Feng Lihan thought Lin Yue wouldn't answer at all.
"My clan believed knowledge was survival," Lin Yue said at last. "If you only know one way to live, you die the moment that way fails."
He lifted his head and met Feng Lihan's gaze. This time, there was no smile—only honesty carefully measured.
"So they taught us many things. How to build, how to cook, how to adapt. Even things others might think are strange."
Feng Lihan studied him in the firelight. The glow traced Lin Yue's sharp profile, the calm determination beneath his gentleness.
"…You don't talk like someone who grew up protected," Feng Lihan said.
Lin Yue exhaled slowly. "Protection is a luxury."
That answer settled something unspoken between them.
Feng Lihan nodded once. "Then you're strong. In your own way."
Lin Yue blinked, surprised. "You think so?"
"I know so," Feng Lihan replied. "Strength isn't only in claws or blades."
For a brief moment, Lin Yue looked almost vulnerable. Then he laughed softly. "If the elders heard you say that, they'd be very pleased."
"Elders," Feng Lihan repeated. "Are they still alive?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Lin Yue froze.
The firelight flickered across his face, and for the first time, Feng Lihan saw something crack—just a little. Lin Yue looked away.
"…Some are," he said quietly. "Some aren't."
Feng Lihan felt a dull ache in his chest. He didn't push further. Instead, he stood and removed his cloak, draping it over Lin Yue's shoulders.
"You'll freeze," he said simply.
Lin Yue stared at the cloak, then up at him. "And you?"
"I've endured worse."
Lin Yue hesitated, then pulled the cloak tighter around himself. "Thank you."
They sat closer after that—not touching, but no longer separated by distance. The forest seemed to listen, holding its breath.
Feng Lihan gazed into the fire, a single thought forming clearly in his mind:
Lin Yue is a man full of secrets.
And for the first time, Feng Lihan realized—
He didn't want those secrets exposed by force.
He wanted Lin Yue to choose to trust him.