The morning light was dim and gray.
Xi Yao huddled in the corner of the bed, wrapped tightly in a thick quilt, her gaze vacant.
Qi Yan was gone.
This was the first time she had woken up without seeing those piercing eyes fixed on her.
She should have felt relieved.
Yet, for some reason, an inexplicable sense of unease settled over her.
She stared blankly at the door.
Before long, the door creaked open.
Qi Yan walked in, carrying a bowl of porridge.
His movements were quiet, his steps steady and soundless. He approached the bed, set the porridge down on the small table, and sat beside her, his voice low and measured:
"You're awake. Eat first."
Xi Yao frowned. "Why are you so… quiet today?"
Qi Yan lowered his head, scooping a spoonful of porridge and bringing it to her lips. His tone remained gentle. "Yesterday, you said you were afraid of me. I don't want to scare you."
She blinked, momentarily stunned.
"…Did you take the wrong medicine?"
Qi Yan didn't laugh, nor did he get angry. He simply looked at her, silent and steady. "I wanted to try… if you'd like this version of me."
"…What do you even want from me?" She eyed him suspiciously. "I'm just a mortal. I have no money, no power, no influence, and I'm not even that pretty… Why go to such lengths?"
Qi Yan still didn't answer. He merely held the spoon closer.
Xi Yao stared at him for a few seconds before finally opening her mouth and taking a sip.
The porridge was light, slightly warm, neither too bland nor too thick—just right.
She couldn't help but take a few more bites.
Qi Yan watched her, saying nothing, his eyes carrying an unfamiliar softness.
For the entire day, he truly didn't lay a hand on her. He didn't force her to stay close, didn't act unreasonably.
He no longer touched her without permission, only occasionally tucking back a stray lock of her hair. Most of the time, he just sat in silence, watching her as if memorizing every flicker of her expression.
That night, he didn't pull her into his arms like usual.
He simply sat by the bed, gazing at the night outside the window, and asked softly:
"You fear me… is it because I'm always unreasonable?"
Xi Yao hadn't expected this question. She froze for a moment.
"If you were always this… gentle, maybe you wouldn't be so hard to get along with." She thought for a second, then added, "Though your face is still pretty scary."
Qi Yan turned to look at her, his eyes unreadable. "If I stayed gentle… would you be willing to stay?"
Xi Yao hugged the quilt tighter and didn't answer.
The room plunged into silence.
After a long while, Qi Yan let out a low chuckle. "You still don't trust me."
He stood and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.
---
The next day, a snowstorm raged.
The cold outside was biting, but the inside of the house felt even colder.
Qi Yan didn't return all day.
At first, Xi Yao thought he had just gone somewhere else. But as night deepened without a single sign of him, a thread of unease coiled in her chest.
She waited by the door for what felt like ages before finally hearing footsteps approach.
Qi Yan pushed the door open, his robes dusted with snow, the hems damp with melted frost. He walked inside but didn't look at her, heading straight for the inner chamber as if she were nothing but air.
"Where did you go?" Xi Yao couldn't help but ask.
Qi Yan didn't turn around, his voice indifferent. "Out for a walk."
"For an entire day?"
He still didn't answer, his movements slow but carrying an inexplicable weight.
Xi Yao scowled and marched over. "Why are you back to not talking? Are you sick or something? Did being gentle for one day drain all your energy?"
Qi Yan finally turned, his gaze flat, his lips not curving into their usual smirk. "You want me to be gentle?"
"…Obviously."
"Then you want me to keep it up?"
"What are you plotting now?"
Qi Yan stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her face. "Did you leave the house today?"
"No." She took a wary step back. "I wasn't in the mood to run even if you weren't here."
"But when I returned, your shoes had been moved." His stare bore into her. "Were you trying to escape?"
"I just—" Before she could finish, he closed the distance in one stride, his palm pressing against her shoulder—icy cold.
"Were you planning to run?"
Xi Yao's temper flared. "Should I kneel and thank you for not chasing me?! I just stood by the door to look outside—why are you freaking out?!"
Qi Yan's faint smile vanished, his eyes turning frigid in an instant.
"You always call me mad… Then I'll show you madness."
With a single push, he pinned her to the bed. The force wasn't brutal, but it left her immobilized. The divine mark on her forehead flared, her body burning up.
"You said I wasn't gentle, so I changed. You said I scared you, so I held back. And yet, the moment my back is turned, you think of running?" His voice was low, but every word was laced with barely restrained fury. "What exactly am I to you?"
Xi Yao struggled. "Let me go!"
Qi Yan didn't budge, only leaning closer. "You say you're socially inept, that you can't stand being near people—yet you can talk to everyone but me. The moment you see me, you want to hide. Do you… hate me from the very core of your being?"
"Yes! I hate you!" Her eyes reddened as she shouted. "You're overbearing, unreasonable, and you keep touching me without permission—why the hell should I like you?! I'm afraid of you, genuinely afraid!"
Qi Yan stared at her, silent for a long moment.
Then, abruptly, he released her and turned away.
Xi Yao slumped onto the bed, watching as he strode out without another word.
The door slammed shut.
A cold wind seeped through the window cracks, replacing the earlier heat, and she shivered violently.
She curled into a ball under the quilt, suddenly clawing at her hair in frustration. "What the hell is this now…"
Time crawled by.
The door didn't open again.
He truly didn't return.
That night, the house was eerily silent, as if the entire estate had been abandoned.
It wasn't until nearly dawn that Xi Yao finally succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off.
But the moment her eyelids fluttered shut—
A low, ragged breath sounded from beyond the door.
Footsteps, slow but heavy, as if every step took immense effort.
The door swung open.
Qi Yan stood at the threshold, his robes disheveled, his hands stained with blood, his face deathly pale.
He stood there, watching her for a long moment before finally speaking in a whisper:
"…I'm back."