Tak, tak.
Soft footsteps echoed like falling petals. A faint, graceful scent, plum blossoms filled the air.
She walked toward Fang Yuan as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and indigo.
"Clan Head," she called gently, her voice like a breeze brushing across a still lake.
Fang Yuan turned, pulled from thoughts of rings and brothers. "Oh, Du Juan."
He gestured to the stone bench. "Sit with me."
She flowed into the seat, sleeve whispering as she drew out slender wine jars. Two cups chimed softly on stone. Amber liquid glowed like trapped sunlight as she poured.
"Clan Head," she offered, pouring the amber liquid, "A drink?"
Fang Yuan glanced at the cup, then at her. He nodded lightly.
"...Sure."
Even as he reached for the cup, a thought passed through his mind.
Doesn't she smell like plum blossoms?
A faint frown touched his lips.
Is this what Lin Zhaoyue smelled on me earlier?
