The warmth in his tone startled me, striking sharper than I expected. My chest tightened...because if Dòu Dòu, with all his noise and mischief, could show this much care… then why couldn't Mingzhu?
I set the bowl down too quickly, the sound sharp against the pearl table. "Why is he always like that?" I burst out, my voice trembling with heat. "Cold. Silent. Looking at me as if I don't belong here , when I didn't even ask to be dragged into this place!"
Dòu Dòu blinked, his smile flickering. For once, he didn't laugh. Instead he leaned back, arms crossed loosely.
"That's just Mingzhu," he said, softer now. "Cold outside, storm inside. He carries more than you see. Don't mistake silence for absence."
I pressed my lips together, the anger still burning, yet tangled with something I couldn't untangle...something raw, restless, like a knot deep in the chest.
Days passed in a blur of silence and silver light. The house seemed endless, its corridors winding like veins of crystal, its chambers echoing with emptiness. Dòu Dòu was the only sound that broke through...the clatter of his jokes, the sudden bursts of laughter that filled corners where shadows pressed too tightly.
I learned the rhythm of this strange place: the lanterns dimming at what passed for night, the soft hum of currents slipping between the pearl columns, the weight of silence that always returned once his laughter faded.
Yet whenever I stepped beyond the gates, the river-city reminded me I was not one of them. Eyes followed me through the marketplace like cold hands. Whispers slipped behind my back, rippling sharper than knives. Mothers pulled their children close, merchants turned their scales away.
I tried to ignore it, to stand tall, but the sting of their gazes lingered long after I returned.
One evening, as I crossed the hall with my arms full of herbs Dòu Dòu had fetched for me, I found Mingzhu waiting at the foot of the stairway. His presence filled the space without effort, shadows bending around him as if the house itself leaned closer.
"You've been wandering too freely," he said, voice calm but edged. "Luo Shui is not kind to outsiders. If you cannot endure their eyes, stay within these walls."
Something in me snapped. "I don't need your permission to breathe," I retorted, sharper than I intended. "If this city despises me, then tell me why I was brought here at all. Or do you enjoy watching me stumble like some intruder in your cage?"
For a long moment he studied me, eyes dark and unreadable, the silence heavy between us. Then, with the faintest flicker...whether disdain or something else, I could not tell...he turned away.
"The river does not make mistakes," he murmured, almost to himself. "Only those who walk its path do."
That night the house felt heavier than usual. The corridors pressed close, the pearl walls gleaming faintly like watchful eyes. I tried to sleep, but the whispers of the marketplace clung to me, sharper than any blade. Outsider. Intruder. Their voices echoed in the silence of my mind.
The door creaked open without warning.
"Still awake?" Dòu Dòu's head appeared, upside-down through the crack, his grin crooked. "I could hear your thoughts rattling from three chambers away."