Lin Qian swore he was not dressed for this.
The robes were too fine, the embroidery too sharp, the weight of silk pressing on his shoulders like chains. He tugged at the collar for the tenth time as he followed Feng Lianhua into the grand banquet hall, trying not to trip over the hem.
Dozens of nobles rose, bowing low as the Phoenix Lord entered. Their eyes, however, flicked curiously toward the shadow trailing behind him.
Whispers began immediately.
"Is that… a servant?"
"He walks too close to the throne."
"Ah, the one from the rumors…"
Lin Qian wanted to crawl under the nearest table and never come out.
The feast began, wine flowing, laughter forced. Ministers took turns flattering Feng Lianhua with flowery words. Lin Qian sat quietly at his side, praying to remain invisible.
But of course, fate hated him.
One noble leaned forward, voice honeyed with malice. "My Lord, it is admirable that you… treasure loyalty. But surely the company of low-born attendants is unfit for the Phoenix Court?"
A ripple of laughter passed through the hall. Another chimed in, louder, emboldened: "Indeed. The rumors say this boy walked through fire unharmed. Perhaps he is more trickster than servant."
Lin Qian's ears burned. He opened his mouth—then shut it. What could he possibly say?
Before he could choke on humiliation, Feng Lianhua spoke.
"Enough."
The single word cut sharper than a blade. The hall fell silent.
Those ember-bright eyes swept across the nobles, cold and merciless. "This hall burns with my fire alone. If any here doubts whom I keep at my side—step forward and test their worth against mine."
No one moved.
The weight of silence pressed heavy.
Lin Qian sat frozen, heart pounding, as realization sank in: Feng Lianhua had just silenced the entire court… for him.
A hand brushed against his sleeve under the table. Barely a touch, quick as lightning, gone before he could react. But it was enough to send a shiver racing down his spine.
When he dared glance up, Feng Lianhua's expression had already returned to cool indifference, as though nothing had happened.
But Lin Qian knew better.
And so did every pair of eyes in that hall.
---
The Bond of Flame
After the banquet, Lin Qian expected to be dismissed, maybe even scolded for embarrassing his lord. Instead, he was summoned to the inner library.
The chamber was quiet, filled with ancient scrolls and the soft glow of lanterns. Feng Lianhua stood before a wall of texts, his hand hovering over one particular volume bound in dark red silk.
"You wonder why the fire spares you," he said without preamble.
Lin Qian flinched. "I—I never said that!"
Feng's gaze flicked to him, sharp as ever. "You thought it. Loudly."
Lin Qian groaned. Does he read minds, too?
Feng opened the silk-bound text, revealing pages inked with phoenix sigils that seemed to shift like living flame. "Phoenix fire is not ordinary flame. It is tied to emotion, to bloodline, to the will of the one who carries it."
He turned a page, his voice low and steady. "To touch it without harm means one of two things. Either your spirit is strong enough to withstand its wrath… or it recognizes you."
Lin Qian swallowed hard. "Recognizes me? Like a stray dog?"
Feng's lips curved faintly. "More like a mirror. Fire answers only to those it accepts."
Lin Qian laughed nervously, waving his hands. "Well, that's great! I'm honored, truly, but I'd really rather not be accepted by something that can roast me alive."
Feng stepped closer, closing the book with a soft thud. The firelight reflected in his eyes made them seem endless. "Yet it chose you anyway."
Lin Qian's breath caught. For once, he had no sarcastic reply.
The silence stretched, heavy, charged. Feng's gaze lingered a moment longer before he turned away, dismissing him with a flick of his hand.
"Go. Before you say something foolish and regret it."
Lin Qian fled, heart pounding, his thoughts a tangled mess.
The fire hadn't burned him. The Phoenix Lord's eyes had softened. And worst of all—Lin Qian realized he wasn't just afraid anymore.
He was curious.
---
Night by the Fire
The palace was asleep.
Or it should have been. Lin Qian lay in his narrow servant's bed, tossing and turning, thoughts racing. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the image of fire curling harmlessly across his skin… or the look in Feng Lianhua's eyes when he'd said "It chose you."
Finally, giving up on sleep, Lin Qian crept through the silent halls. His feet carried him almost without thinking—to the inner chamber where the Phoenix Lord often lingered late into the night.
Sure enough, Feng Lianhua sat before a brazier, flames crackling softly. His robe hung loose at the shoulders, dark hair unbound. Without the crown or the cold authority of the throne, he looked… human.
Lin Qian hovered at the doorway, unsure if he should leave. But then Feng spoke, voice calm.
"Can't sleep?"
Caught, Lin Qian shuffled in awkwardly. "You either, huh?"
Feng gestured to the floor beside him. After a long hesitation, Lin Qian sat. The warmth of the fire wrapped around them, strangely gentle.
For a while, neither spoke. The only sound was the pop of burning coals.
Then Feng said quietly, "Do you regret it?"
Lin Qian blinked. "Regret what?"
"Staying here. Serving me. Walking into fire that should have killed you."
Lin Qian opened his mouth to blurt out yes—but the word stuck in his throat. Instead, he sighed. "I regret… that I didn't run away when I had the chance. But…" He glanced sideways, cheeks heating. "I don't regret being here. Not anymore."
Feng turned to look at him. In the firelight, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something Lin Qian had never seen before—loneliness, yes, but also… hope.
Without thinking, Lin Qian reached toward the brazier. The flames curled around his fingers, warm, alive, and safe.
"See?" he said softly, trying to smile. "Maybe I was meant to be fireproof after all."
Feng's hand moved, covering his. His touch was cool against the heat of the flame, steady, grounding.
Lin Qian's heart skipped.
The Phoenix Lord leaned closer, his voice low. "Or perhaps… you were meant for me."
The fire crackled louder, as if echoing the words.
Lin Qian froze, breath caught between fear and something dangerously close to longing.
For the first time, he didn't know whether to pull away—
…or lean in.