The fragrance of last night's wine still clung faintly to the air, mingling with the more refined scent of aged sandalwood that perfumed the silk-laden chamber.Amid the mix of smells, one rose clearly above the rest: patchouli.

The scent drifted past his senses, warm and familiar. Xu Moyao let out a quiet breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

A shaft of light cut through the brocade curtains, patterned in plum blossoms, casting shadowy petals over the polished wooden floor.

Xu Moyao stirred.

The general's first breath was shallow, careful, as if any sudden movement might aggravate the throbbing at his temples. His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the mellow gold of morning. He felt the softness of the mattress beneath him, the luxurious weight of a palace duvet over his waist, and something warm and solid pressed lightly against his side.

His gaze slid down.

Li Wuxin was half-sprawled over the edge of the bed, one arm tucked awkwardly beneath his cheek, the other dangling off the edge. His long, brown, unbound hair spilled across the covers, brushing against Xu Moyao's ribs. His breathing was even, undisturbed by the shaft of light warming his cheek.

For a few long seconds, Xu Moyao simply stared. He should let himself rest more often.

Last night returned to him in fragments: the endless rounds of toasts, Li Wuxin's sharp tongue getting more unfiltered with each cup of wine, a wager over who could still walk straight by the time the moon reached its zenith... and laughter. A great deal of it. Xu Moyao remembered the warmth of it, a kind of rare, easy joy that curled in the chest and stayed there.

There had been a moment — brief, maybe imagined — when their shoulders had brushed and neither pulled away. A shared silence that had felt more binding than words.

He exhaled.The ghost of a smile flickering at the corners of his lips."You cling in your sleep," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Li Wuxin stirred.

At first, it was only a twitch, then a deeper breath as Li Wuxin's lashes fluttered. Slowly, his eyes opened. Still unfocused, lost for a second before meeting Xu Moyao's.

Then Li Wuxin blinked, and blinked again. He sat up in a swift, smoothing his robes as he did so.

"I must have fallen asleep," he said, rubbing at his face.

Xu Moyao arched an eyebrow. "On me, apparently."

Li Wuxin glanced down, noticed the indentation in the bed from where he'd been resting. His ears turned faintly pink, but his tone remained calm.

"You didn't seem to mind."

Xu Moyao chuckled. "If I had, you'd be waking up on the floor."

Li Wuxin snorted softly, heading toward the nearby basin. He poured water and splashed his face, shivering a little as the cold bit into his skin.

"We should leave before anyone finds us here."

Xu Moyao sat up, stretching his arms above his head. "What, scared someone might think we shared a bed? Let them think what they want. I slept fine."

"No," Li Wuxin replied, toweling his face. "I'm afraid someone will ask me to stay for morning consultations."

They dressed without too many words, in the soft gold of morning light. Xu Moyao folded his robes with care, while Li Wuxin adjusted his tunic with half-awake precision. A few murmured remarks passed between them, a quiet chuckle.

Behind them, the palace slowly stirred, but neither had the patience to linger. Not today.

They slipped out through a side wing, their footsteps soft on the polished stone floors, fading into the whisper of pine trees. The air was warm already, the light gentle.

And before them,the capital sprawled out, full of bustling alleys, the scent of incense, market noise, stone bridges, and glistening water.

They had the whole day.

And the entire city to explore.

They walked side by side without speaking.

It wasn't until they reached the river market that Li Wuxin spoke again.

"You ever sneak out like this when you were a student?"

"All the time," Xu Moyao said without hesitation. "I used to bribe the gatekeeper with dried persimmons."

"Troublemaker"

Xu Moyao glanced sideways. "And you?"

Li Wuxin laughed. "They couldn't keep me in."

By then, the market was fully awake. Stalls clattered open; vendors shouted cheerfully about fresh scallion buns and candied plums. The air was rich with the scent of fried dough, soy, ginger, and the sharper tang of vinegar.

They shared skewers of grilled tofu and rice cakes dipped in sugar syrup. Li Wuxin bought a carved flute on a whim, which earned him a skeptical look, Xu Moyao blinked, only to find the doctor had slipped away from his view, He finally find him examined bundles of medicinal herbs with critical eyes.

With just a few strides, he was by his side again. "What are you looking for ?"

"Nothing spécial"

When Li Wuxin raised his head, he could not repress a light laugh. Xu Moyao's cape came loose in the bustle of the crowd.

Li Wuxin wordlessly reached out and refastened it, smoothing the fabric over his shoulder with gentle movements.

"You'd make a fine valet," Xu Moyao teased.

Li Wuxin patted his chest lightly. "I'd poison your tea first."

"Is that so? "Xu Moyao feigned offense with a perfectly raised brow.

"Please...if I were your valet, I'd poison my own tea."

The noise of the market faded slightly, the bustling crowd feeling like a distant hum in the background. For a brief moment, it was just the two of them in a world that existed only in this little corner of the city. Li Wuxin took a step back, his fingers still resting lightly on Xu Moyao's chest, before he looked up with a faint smile.

"You know," he said quietly, "I never thought I'd be the one fixing your cape." The words, though casual, carried a softness that made Xu Moyao pause for just a heartbeat longer than usual.

Xu Moyao met his gaze, his lips twitching into a smile. "Should I be worried? Or is this a new way to keep me in check?" he said, his voice low but warm, with the smallest trace of something like affection in it.

"Me? Keep you in check? I think I'm more likely to get distracted by the food stalls."

Xu Moyao tilted his head, catching the subtle shift in Li Wuxin's tone, but he said nothing more. Instead, he adjusted the fabric one last time, stepping back and nodding. "There," he said, as if completing a task. "That should be better."

Xu Moyao took a moment to look at him, then gave a quiet chuckle, a sound that seemed to hold more than just amusement — something softer, more reflective. His gaze lingered a second longer than necessary, like he was seeing something new in Li Wuxin, or perhaps recognizing something he’d missed before.

Around them, the market buzzed back to life — clattering pans, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, hawkers calling out their wares — but the air between the two men had shifted. Not tense, not charged, just... closer. As if a thread had quietly drawn them in, weaving familiarity where once there had only been function.

Li Wuxin didn’t speak, but he didn’t step away either.

A sharp tap of a heel on the cobblestones made them turn around. A young soldier in light armor stood there, slightly out of breath, holding a sealed scroll in his hands.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a bow. “I’ve been asked to deliver this to you.”

Xu Moyao raised an eyebrow but accepted the letter. The palace seal still shone, intact—a fine layer of red wax stamped with a stylized dragon. He broke it with his thumb, unrolled the parchment, and read aloud, a slow smile forming on his lips.

“To General Xu Moyao and Doctor Li Wuxin,” he began. “His Majesty invites you to remain one more night at the palace to attend the Lantern Night festivities. Your presence is requested at the opening ceremony.”

Li Wuxin glanced toward the streets, already decorated with colorful streamers and hanging lanterns, which merchants were setting up with enthusiasm. Children ran between stalls, laughing and spinning small paper lanterns shaped like animals. A blended scent of incense, caramelized sugar, and freshly picked flowers lingered in the air.

“Ah, I’d forgotten it was tonight,” he said with a sigh, as though remembering an old dream.

“So had I,” Xu Moyao replied, folding the message. “But I suppose we don’t really have a choice anymore.”

Li Wuxin gave a sidelong smile. “You say that as if you’re not curious to see what the festival is like.”

Xu Moyao shot him a look, an unreadable gleam in his eyes. “Maybe. But…”

He trailed off, glancing down at their attire: austere, practical, marked by the dust of the market.

“…we’re clearly not dressed for it.”

“Tradition demands it,” Li Wuxin murmured, a mischievous glint in his voice.

And so they set off in search of a clothing stall, weaving between the bustling booths and the murmurs of preparation. Musicians were tuning their instruments in one corner, and dancers were rehearsing steps to the slow rhythm of a drum. The daylight was fading gently, casting golden reflections across the glazed tile rooftops.

Eventually, a small workshop with embroidered curtains caught their eye—more modest than the grand boutiques nearby, but richly adorned with silk in deep colors. An old woman sat on a low stool, barely glancing up, focused on her needlework. As soon as she saw the two men, her face lit up.

“Oh, you’re just in time!” she exclaimed, rising with surprising agility. “I’ve just finished two outfits for the festival, but have no one to sell them to.” She squinted, examining them from head to toe. “You two… you seem to get along well, don’t you?”

Xu Moyao nearly choked. “What exactly do you mean…?”

“Outfits! Lucky garments for Lantern Night,” she said with a sly smile. “I’ll gift them to you, if you let me choose for you.”

Li Wuxin, ears slightly red, tried to protest. “That’s really not necessary—”

But the old woman didn’t wait for their agreement. She had already vanished into the back room and soon returned, carrying two carefully folded bundles in pale pink linen, tied with silk ribbons.

She handed them over with a wink, then pointed to two small wooden changing rooms behind a floral screen.

“Go on, now—no arguing! And no peeking, either! Don’t look at each other until you’re both done!”

Resigned—or perhaps too curious to refuse—they accepted. Xu Moyao stepped into the first room, Li Wuxin into the second. The fabric slipped through their fingers, light as a breath, and each piece seemed tailored with almost prophetic precision.

When they emerged a few moments later, silence fell instantly.

Xu Moyao blinked.

Li Wuxin, standing before him, wore a ceremonial robe of midnight blue embroidered with golden clouds. The long sleeves and fitted cut accentuated his silhouette. The high waistline highlighted a slender figure, and the flowing fabric rippled around his ankles with a grace almost too deliberate. A gleam of amber adorned the collar, enhancing the warm tones of his skin.

There was a pause.

Xu Moyao opened his mouth, then closed it again. Once, twice. As if searching for the words in a forgotten language.

Li Wuxin, for his part, frowned at Xu Moyao’s outfit, nearly identical—but with a distinctly masculine cut: square shoulders, straight lines, a stiffer collar. And above all... matching. Perfectly.

“…Wait.” Li Wuxin looked down at himself, a slow and painful realization dawning on his face. “Is this… is this a women’s design?”

The old woman burst into laughter from her corner, the sound bright and clear like a ceremonial bell.

“Oh, I knew it! The feminine style suits you perfectly. With a waist like that, it’d be a crime to hide it under stiff fabric.”

Li Wuxin didn’t know where to look. He fidgeted, trying to cover himself, then gave up, defeated.

She clasped her hands, eyes sparkling. “Harmonious, graceful, and honestly, you shine.”

Xu Moyao crossed his arms, trying in vain to hide the soft chuckle that escaped him. A gentle warmth rose in his cheeks, uncontrollably.

“You can stop smiling,” Li Wuxin muttered under his breath, his face crimson.

“I’m not smiling,” the other replied, standing straighter, eyes amused. “I’m in awe.”

Li Wuxin rolled his eyes, but his lips betrayed the slightest smile despite himself. He turned his head away so it wouldn’t be seen.

They said nothing more—perhaps too embarrassed, or too proud to contradict the old woman, especially as she watched them with a satisfied expression, as if she’d just completed a masterstroke.

At last, the old woman handed them each a small matching brooch, shaped like a pale gold lotus, finely crafted.

“To complete the look,” she said with an almost maternal softness. “You’ll see, this festival will be unforgettable.”

And as they stepped out of the shop, the crowd buzzed all around them, lanterns lighting one by one in the growing dusk. The sky turned shades of purple and orange, dotted with floating lights. In the distance, the temple gong rang out, deep, solemn. Music began to rise in the streets, light and shimmering like the first stars.

Xu Moyao cast a sidelong glance at Li Wuxin, who was adjusting the brooch on his outfit with clumsy care.

He hesitated, then murmured, “You know… it suits you.”

Li Wuxin turned his head, surprised. Then he smiled, truly, this time.

“So does yours.”

And side by side, their matching garments catching the lantern light, they melted into the crowd, toward a night full of promise.