Xuan Mo didn't leave her room that night.
Not because she asked.
Because he refused.
"This chamber is not secure," he said. "Someone tampered with the defensive arrays."
She blinked. "I thought this place was impenetrable?"
"It was," he replied darkly, "until someone targeted you."
Great. She was a walking plot disaster.
He turned to her.
"Sit."
"I'm not a pet."
"Sit anyway."
She sat.
A sphere of moonlight formed in his palm — softer than before, glowing like a captured heartbeat.
"I must stabilize your resonance before it destabilizes your core."
She frowned. "Will it hurt?"
"Yes."
"On a scale from one to—"
He touched her forehead.
Light flooded her mind.
She fell forward — into him.
Their souls brushed again.
It wasn't painful like before.
It was intimate.
Too intimate.
Her breath mingled with his as the light wrapped around them both, binding and weaving.
She saw visions again—
His memories.His loneliness.His throne of regrets.His endless nights without warmth.
And he saw hers.
Her modern life.Her fears.Her stubbornness.Her choice to survive no matter what.
When the light faded, they were inches apart.
Her hands were gripping his robes.
His hand was at the back of her neck.
Neither moved.
Neither breathed.
"Why do you resonate with me?" he whispered.
"I don't know," she breathed.
His eyes softened — barely.
"Dangerous girl."
"You're the dangerous one."
"Yes," he murmured. "And yet you do not run."
"Would it make a difference if I did?"
"No."
She swallowed.
"Then what do we do now?"
He leaned closer — not touching, but close enough that moonlight curled around them in gentle spirals.
"Now," he said softly, "we rewrite fate."