Standing beneath the ancient tree rooted at the edge of the spirit pool, fed endlessly by twin, murmuring waterfalls, Ningyan found himself staring into the soft, luminous glow reflecting the night sky.
He drew in a slow breath.
One by one, he undressed without hurry, folding his clothes neatly beside the pool and placing his flute atop them. Then, with careful steps, he entered the water.
Warmth enveloped him, white-gold light curling around the crimson patterns on his feet, swallowing them inch by inch until his lower body disappeared beneath the surface.
His shoulders loosened. He lifted his hands and rubbed his cheeks slowly, exhaling.
Then he froze.
A subtle shift in the air prickled along his skin. Someone was watching him.
Meishan stood among the trees, half-hidden by shadow. He kept his distance, the thick trunk of the tree before the pool separating them, but his emerald, serpent-like eyes were wide, fixed on the sight before him.
