After Lin Yue fell asleep, the cave grew quiet.
The fire had burned low, embers glowing like scattered stars. Feng Lihan lay still, one arm around Lin Yue, crimson wings curved protectively around him. In sleep, Lin Yue looked softer—no guarded expressions, no careful restraint. Just warmth and trust.
Feng Lihan lowered his gaze, studying him.
He's different, Feng Lihan thought.
Lin Yue was not the strongest warrior. He did not roar the loudest, nor bare his claws to command respect. But he observed. He thought. He questioned traditions others accepted without hesitation.
Many in the clan noticed it too.
Some admired it.
Some feared it.
Some whispered that Lin Yue was too strange to stand beside a Chief.
Feng Lihan knew all of that.
And he loved him anyway.
No—because of it.
He leaned down and pressed a quiet kiss to Lin Yue's forehead, lingering there longer than necessary.
"I see you," he murmured softly. "Even if the world doesn't yet."
Lin Yue shifted, breathing steady, unaware of the promise sealed in that touch.
At dawn, the Hawk Clan gathered.
This time, not for battle—but for instruction.
Feng Lihan stood at the center of the clearing, posture relaxed but commanding. Behind him, Lin Yue watched quietly, hands folded, eyes alert.
The clan expected orders about patrols or borders.
Instead, Feng Lihan said, "We will start with fire."
Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Fire?" a warrior echoed. "Chief, we already—"
"Not like this," Feng Lihan interrupted calmly.
Under Lin Yue's guidance, stone struck stone. Sparks leapt. Dry herbs caught flame.
Gasps followed.
"This fire," Feng Lihan continued, "will cook our meat."
A few elders frowned. "Raw meat strengthens the body."
Lin Yue stepped forward then, voice steady.
"Raw meat weakens the stomach over time," he said. "It causes sickness. Pain. Many of our injured warriors suffer longer than they should because of it."
Silence fell.
Feng Lihan nodded. "We fight to survive. We do not need to suffer unnecessarily."
That day, for the first time in Hawk Clan memory, cooked meat was shared openly.
The results came quickly.
Warriors felt stronger. Fewer fell ill. Wounds healed faster.
Whispers changed their tone.
"Maybe the Chief's mate is strange…"
"…but his ideas work."
"…the clan is healthier."
Lin Yue never claimed credit.
But Feng Lihan noticed everything.
One month passed.
The Hawk Clan stabilized under Feng Lihan's rule. Disputes were settled. Borders reinforced. Trade reopened with neighboring clans.
And through it all, Lin Yue stood beside him.
Not behind.
Not hidden.
They learned each other's rhythms—morning briefings, quiet meals, late nights discussing plans by firelight. Feng Lihan listened more. Lin Yue spoke with growing confidence.
At night, they returned to the cave.
Sometimes they talked.
Sometimes they simply held each other.
Trust deepened into something unbreakable.
They were no longer just mates.
They were partners.
Not everyone was pleased.
Layla watched from a distance, fingers clenched tightly around her sleeve.
She had expected Feng Lihan to rule alone. Expected Lin Yue to fade into the background—weak, replaceable.
Instead, Lin Yue became indispensable.
The clan listened to him.
The Chief trusted him.
And Layla burned.
"He doesn't belong here," she whispered to herself, eyes cold. "A male mate… influencing the Chief…"
Her lips curved slowly.
"If I cannot take Feng Lihan," she murmured, "then I will remove the obstacle."