"I have a thick skull. I shouldn’t have been daydreaming in the middle of a major thoroughfare. Forgive my clumsiness, fellow Daoist."
The man looked at her smile.
His dark eyes flicked over her face, tracking the curve of her lips, the silver flecks in her eyes, and the ssy, dark hair escaping her hood.
A strange tightening occurred in his jaw, as if he were forcefully suppressing his emotions.
"There is nothing to forgive," the man replied, his voice dropping an octave, smooth as polished glass. "The streets are crowded. One must be careful not to be... swept away."
He bent down, smoothly picking up a heavy, leather-bound map scroll he had dropped during the collision.
Ji’an glanced at the map as he rolled it up.
Her eyes caught the glowing, magical ink charting the topography.
"You’re mapping the Eastern Coastal Wastes?" Ji’an asked, her curiosity piqued.
The red-haired man paused, looking at the scroll, then back to her. "I am. I’m a wandering cultivator. Recently, I heard the armored crustaceans are migrating, and it’s almost the mating season for beasts, too. The cores of such beasts fetch a high price in the markets. I intend to hunt them."
Ji’an’s face lit up.
It was the first stroke of good luck she had experienced in days.
"No way! I’m heading to the Wastes for the sa reason!" Ji’an exclaid, entirely forgetting her previous desire for solitude.
The loneliness that had been plaguing her all morning suddenly felt heavy, and the prospect of having a companion, a handso, seemingly polite rogue who wasn’t a psychotic prince or an overbearing brother, was suddenly incredibly appealing.
"My na is Lin Ji’an," she offered, executing a casual, friendly bow. "I’m... well, I’m a chef by trade, but a cultivator by necessity. And you are?"
The man looked at her outstretched hand.
He stared at her fingers for a long, quiet mont before slowly reaching out and clasping her hand in his.
His grip was firm, enveloping her smaller hand completely.
"Blue," the man said softly, his dark eyes boring into hers.
Ji’an burst out laughing.
It was a genuine, bright, ringing laugh that turned the heads of several nearby rchants.
"Blue?" Ji’an repeated, gesturing to his incredibly vibrant, unmistakable crimson hair. "Your na is Blue, and you have the most violently red hair in the entire empire? That is either a terrible alias or a deeply ironic family tradition."
The man calling himself Blue didn’t smile, but his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, a faint, dark amusent dancing in his gaze. "It is an alias I adopted recently. I find it... comforting. It reminds of the cold."
"A fire-headed rogue who likes the cold. You are a walking contradiction, Blue," Ji’an grinned, completely chard by the absurdity of the encounter.
She pulled her hand back, though she noticed he was reluctant to let go.
She looked at him, assessing his gear.
He carried no visible weapon, but he radiated a suppressed strength that suggested he was highly capable.
"Listen," Ji’an proposed, acting entirely on impulse. "The Eastern Coastal Wastes are treacherous. The mud flats are full of sinkholes, and the crabs hunt in packs. I have so knowledge to properly dismantle the beasts. If you’re heading that way... do you want to travel together?"
Blue froze.
The rogue cultivator stood perfectly still in the middle of the bustling market.
He stared at Ji’an, his dark eyes widening imperceptibly.
For a split second, an expression of euphoria crossed his face that looked almost painful.
He opened his mouth to reply.
He took a step toward her, the ambient air around him suddenly dropping a few degrees in temperature.
"I would be deeply—" Blue began, his voice a ragged, breathless whisper.
"GASP!"
The sound was not a normal intake of air.
It was a shrill, theatrical, lungs-expanding shriek of scandal.
It cut through the noise of the market like a butcher’s cleaver through a lon.
Ji’an flinched, the hairs on the back of her neck instantly standing on end.
Her survival instincts scread at her to drop to the ground and roll for cover.
She slowly turned her head toward the source of the noise.
Standing on the raised, wooden pronade of a high-end silk rchant’s pavilion, looking down upon the street, was Lady ng, the daughter of the Pri Minister, and the undisputed, terrifying ringleader of the capital’s most unhinged fujoshi squad.
She was accompanied by four other noblewon, all draped in pastel silks, all clutching painted folding fans.
And all five of them were staring directly at Lin Ji’an and the handso, red-haired rogue holding her hand.
The silence that fell over their specific section of the market was deafening.
Lady ng’s eyes were practically bulging out of her head.
Her face was flushed a brilliant, feverish crimson.
She raised a trembling finger, pointing it directly at Ji’an.
"I... I can’t believe my eyes!" Lady ng wailed, her voice magically amplified, carrying perfectly across the crowded street. "The audacity! The brazenness of it all! Right in the open streets, beneath the light of the morning sun!"
Ji’an’s jaw dropped.
Blood drained from her face.
’No,’ Ji’an’s mind begged the universe. ’Oh, God. Please, no. I’m wearing a hood and undercover. Don’t do this to !’
"Lady ng, what is it?" one of her companions gasped, leaning over the railing, her eyes locking onto the scene below.
"Look at them!" Lady ng shrieked, dramatically fanning her flushed face. "Look at the Martial Uncle! He is standing there, holding hands with a fiery-haired rogue!"
Blue, the rogue in question, slowly turned his head to look at the screaming won.
His dark eyes narrowed, killing intent flaring in his gaze.
He looked entirely prepared to summon a blizzard and freeze the entire silk pavilion to the bedrock.
"It all makes sense now!" Lady ng declared to the rapt audience of surrounding rchants and pedestrians. "We thought he was a scumbag playboy for parading that girl around!"
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