The change did not come as danger.
It came as attention.
Ye sensed it the moment he stepped beyond the village boundary the next morning. The air felt tighter, as though something unseen had taken note of him and decided not to look away.
Not hostility.
Recognition.
He slowed his steps, keeping his presence restrained, human. Mortal.
Behind him, Ling Yue followed, unaware of the precise reason his shoulders had stiffened.
"You're walking faster than usual," she said lightly, adjusting the basket at her side.
He stopped at once.
"Sorry," he said. "Habit."
She studied him. "You've been distracted since last night."
He met her gaze. "And you've been watching me more closely."
She didn't deny it.
"I don't like not knowing," she said. "And you… you feel like someone standing in the rain pretending it isn't falling."
The accuracy of it struck him.
Ye looked away first.
---
They were headed toward the eastern fields, where a section of crops had withered inexplicably. Mei Qiao had asked Ling Yue to check the soil, suspecting disease.
The earth told a different story.
Ling Yue knelt, fingers brushing the cracked ground. "This isn't rot," she murmured. "It's like the life was… pulled away."
Ye crouched beside her, careful not to touch the soil directly.
"Yes," he said. "Something passed through here."
Her heart thudded. "Something like before?"
"Not exactly."
She turned to him. "Then what?"
He hesitated.
Words failed him — not because he lacked answers, but because truth carried weight he could no longer control.
"Something curious," he said at last. "Something that noticed me."
Ling Yue's breath caught. "Not us?"
"Not yet."
That did nothing to ease her fear.
---
They weren't alone when they returned.
A stranger stood near the village entrance — a man in muted robes, travel-worn but deliberate, his presence quiet yet unmistakably out of place.
A cultivator.
Ling Yue felt it instinctively, though she couldn't explain how.
The man's gaze slid across the village… and stopped on Ye.
Just for a heartbeat.
But that was enough.
Ye felt the subtle pressure immediately — a probing awareness, restrained but searching.
He bowed his head slightly, masking himself further.
The cultivator smiled politely.
"Passing through," he said aloud, addressing no one in particular. "Your village is fortunate. The land is… unusually calm."
Mei Qiao, standing nearby, stiffened. "Is that a problem?"
"Not at all," the man replied. "Calm often hides interesting stories."
His eyes flicked toward Ye again.
Ling Yue noticed.
Her fingers curled into her sleeve.
---
That night, the stranger remained.
He took a room at the inn. Asked questions. Listened more than he spoke.
Ye stayed away.
He kept to the edge of the village, maintaining distance, forcing his presence lower, quieter. Each breath felt heavier than the last.
Ling Yue found him near the old fig tree, standing alone beneath its branches.
"You're avoiding him," she said.
"Yes."
"Because he's dangerous?"
"No," Ye replied. "Because he's observant."
She stepped closer. "And what does he see?"
Ye looked down at her — truly looked.
"If he looks long enough," he said quietly, "he'll realize I don't belong here."
Her chest tightened. "Then leave."
The word tasted bitter.
"I can't," he said. "Not yet."
"Why?"
He lifted a hand, hesitated… then let it fall.
"Because there are things I still need to protect."
Her voice softened. "Like what?"
His gaze held hers.
"Like you."
The simplicity of it left her breathless.
---
Later, as Ling Yue lay awake, she realized something unsettling.
The fear she felt wasn't of the stranger.
It wasn't of the unknown.
It was of a future where Ye was no longer beside her.
Outside, beneath a sky veiled by clouds, Ye stood perfectly still.
He could feel it now — the strain, the subtle resistance of the mortal world pushing back against what he was.
Time was shortening.
And soon, choice would no longer be his alone.