Shen Luolin spun around abruptly, turning his back on the steamy, suffocating mist that could scald all reason out of a man.
His chest heaved violently, every breath scraping a layer of blistering heat from the scorching air.
Awkward.
An overwhelming awkwardness, tangled with the regret of acting on impulse, surged through his mind like a tidal wave, washing away every ounce of composure and analytical ability he possessed.
Right now, all he wanted was to do something—anything—to seize back control.
Anything at all, as long as it could kickstart that precise system of logic in his mind, instead of forcing him to replay that blinding scene over and over again.
So he poured all his agitation and helplessness into the door he’d wrecked with his own hands.
Striding over, he grabbed the twisted doorframe, trying with all his strength to bend it back into place. But his arm wound protested at the sudden exertion, a sharp pain flaring up beneath the bandages.
“Hiss…”
Shen Luolin sucked in a breath of cold air, forced to stop, awkward and flustered.
That stubborn door, just like his rebellious heartbeat, was utterly beyond his control now.
Behind him came the faint sounds of someone dressing, followed by the soft patter of bare feet on the wooden floor.
Moyin emerged, fully dressed, her hair still damp and draped over her shoulders, water droplets sliding off the tips.
She said nothing. She just stood quietly behind him, watching his tense, unmistakably “don’t mess with me” silhouette, and the bandage on his arm, now stained again with fresh blood from his exertion.
The atmosphere in the room was so awkward, it seemed to have frozen solid.
Shen Luolin could feel her gaze. It landed on his back, making him more restless than even the pain of his wound.
Just as he was about to wrestle with the door even more violently, Moyin’s calm voice sounded from behind him.
“Your wound will split open.”
She walked over to stand in front of him, unfazed by the low pressure he was emitting. She raised a hand, pointing at his bleeding arm, then at the hole in the roof.
“I’ll climb up. You stay below and hand me things, and tell me what to do.”
There was not a hint of request or negotiation in her tone—it was simply a fact, stated without room for debate.
Shen Luolin looked at her.
In those clear silver eyes, there was no shyness, no ambiguity, no teasing—only pure focus on solving the problem at hand.
Every excuse he might have used to refuse seemed feeble in the face of those eyes.
Refuse her? On what grounds? He’d broken the door, made a hole in the roof, and reopened his wound. The only one who could move freely now was her.
A sense of lost control furrowed Shen Luolin’s brow even tighter.
Yet in the end, he squeezed a dry syllable from his throat.
“…Alright.”
Moyin wasted no time.
The blood of the Dragonborn gave her balance and agility far beyond that of ordinary people. With almost no effort, she climbed up the wall to the slick, wet rooftop.
Shen Luolin stood below, tilting his head up, eyes involuntarily tracking the figure moving deftly across the roof.
“The left crossbeam—wedge it with a wooden peg.”
“The stuffing needs to be packed tight, or it’ll let in a draft.”
His voice was as concise and cool as ever, as if they were simply doing an ordinary bit of fieldwork together.
Moyin executed everything with remarkable efficiency. She found the perfect spot for each task almost as soon as he finished speaking.
Once, to fix a newly found plank, she had to arch backward, stretching for a tricky angle. The snow beneath her foot slipped, throwing off her balance, and she cried out in alarm.
“Ah!”
Shen Luolin’s body moved faster than thought. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, reaching up with his uninjured hand to catch her slender ankle through the thin fabric of her trousers.
His palm burned, and the ankle beneath his hand felt so delicate it might break at the slightest pressure.
The sensation through the cloth was even more vivid, more stirring, than any direct touch.
Time seemed to freeze again.
Only her rapid breathing and his own suddenly skipping heartbeat remained in the air.
Moyin steadied herself and looked down at him.
His hand still held her ankle firmly, the heat of his touch radiating without pause.
“…Thank you,” she said softly, her voice trembling a little.
Shen Luolin’s Adam’s apple bobbed hard. All he managed was a hoarse “Mm” before he jerked his hand back as if scalded.
The roof repairs finished quickly.
The two of them climbed down one after the other, neither saying a word.
During their short rest beneath the eaves, the atmosphere remained thick and stagnant.
Shen Luolin leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the snowy horizon, deliberately avoiding even the chance of meeting her eyes.
But Moyin, as if determined to do the opposite, didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at the makeshift door he’d forced back into place and spoke in a gentle voice.
“Shifu, about earlier… thank you.”
Shen Luolin stiffened.
Moyin didn’t pause, but continued, “Even though it was just a plank falling down, the moment you rushed in, I didn’t feel scared or offended.”
She turned, meeting his startled gaze at last. Her silver eyes, under the afternoon sun, were bright and sincere.
“I just thought, so there really is someone who would break down a door for my safety, no matter what. Just like… just like a knight.”
Her words washed away every last defense Shen Luolin had built up with his aloofness and embarrassment.
The guilt he’d felt for his recklessness was, in that instant, forgiven.
So she didn’t feel offended after all.
So… she saw him as a protector.
Just as his guard lowered and his whole demeanor softened—
Moyin’s eyes suddenly curved in sly amusement. She leaned closer, her voice so light it was for his ears only, whispering softly by his ear:
“And also, Shifu.”
“In the end, you’re going to see all of me sooner or later.”
“If it’s a little earlier… isn’t that a good deal?”
“!”
The heart Shen Luolin had just managed to settle instantly leapt into his throat again!
He was completely thrown; the mental order he’d only just rebuilt was once again shattered by this bold, unvarnished line.
His cheeks, his neck, even his ears, all flushed red in an instant.
He stared at those mischievously sparkling silver eyes, mouth opening and closing, utterly speechless.
Seeing his thoroughly routed expression, Moyin couldn’t hold it in anymore—she burst out laughing with a soft “pfft.”
Shifu, even your ears are red.
…So cute.
Stirred by her laugh, Shen Luolin finally snapped back to himself, and after a long pause managed to squeeze out a feeble, utterly unthreatening rebuke through clenched teeth:
“…Shameless!”
Even he could hear the helpless embarrassment in his own voice.
Moyin only laughed harder. She didn’t press her advantage, knowing when to stop, and in high spirits she turned away, humming a tuneless melody as she went to tend to the long-forgotten snow fox.
Shen Luolin watched her retreating figure and, in the end, could only sigh helplessly.
But he didn’t even notice—the corners of his mouth, tense all afternoon, now curved up ever so slightly, utterly beyond his control.
…It really might not be a bad deal.
The crack between them, born from awkwardness, hadn’t been fixed.
Instead, it had fused together, like dovetails scorched by fire—fitted even tighter, even warmer.
His much-vaunted calm and self-control, in the face of this increasingly unruly “student,” seemed… long since obsolete.