They left the café nearly forty minutes later.
Not because either of them wanted to.
Because the city outside kept calling them back through music and lantern light and the restless pulse of Sanyuejie moving through Old Dali like a living thing.
The moment they stepped outside again, cool night air wrapped softly around them carrying the scent of charcoal smoke, roasted tea leaves, flower petals, and distant rain lingering somewhere high in the mountains beyond the city.
The streets looked transformed after dark.
Lanterns floated overhead in endless rows now, casting warm gold across old stone roads worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. Bai musicians played beneath the archways lining Foreigner Street while festival vendors continued calling through the crowds selling sweet rice cakes, grilled rushan cheese, silver ornaments, sugar-coated hawthorn skewers, and steaming bowls of rice noodles fragrant with chili oil and herbs.
Everything glowed.
Everything moved.
And somehow Xu Chen still remained absurdly aware of only one thing:
Aum beside him.
The realization no longer arrived like shock now.
It settled deeper than that.
Steady.
Constant.
Dangerous in a completely different way.
They walked slowly through the evening crowds without speaking at first.
Not awkwardly.
The silence between them had evolved again sometime during the afternoon—less fragile now, less uncertain.
Like both of them already understood the shape of each other's presence well enough that conversation no longer carried pressure.
Xu Chen had never experienced anything like it before.
Beside him, Aum tilted his head slightly upward toward the lanterns swaying overhead.
"The city luminosity increased significantly after sunset."
Xu Chen smiled faintly.
"That's because Dali likes dramatic aesthetics."
A faint pause.
"I approve of the outcome."
Xu Chen laughed quietly under his breath.
"You know what's dangerous?"
Aum glanced toward him immediately.
"What."
"You're becoming charming intentionally now."
"That outcome appears partially learned."
"Exactly my point."
Warm amusement softened Aum's face again.
Xu Chen genuinely did not think his nervous system would ever adapt properly to those small expressions.
The crowds thickened near the western market intersection where dancers performed beneath large embroidered festival banners while tourists gathered in dense circles around musicians and food stalls.
As people surged through the narrower section of the street, Aum's hand settled lightly against Xu Chen's back again automatically.
Guiding.
Protective.
Natural now.
Xu Chen's pulse reacted instantly anyway.
Hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
"You remain highly responsive," Aum observed softly near his ear.
Xu Chen looked straight ahead into the moving crowd.
"That sentence should honestly qualify as psychological manipulation at this point."
"I am making observations."
"You are making observations directly against my survival."
Warm laughter escaped Aum quietly.
The sound disappeared beneath the music and crowd noise almost immediately—but Xu Chen still felt it settle warm beneath his ribs.
The night air cooled slightly as they moved farther through the old city. Somewhere above the rooftops, clouds had begun drifting slowly across the mountains, softening the moonlight beyond the lantern glow.
Xu Chen noticed Aum watching everything carefully again.
Not analytically this time.
Emotionally.
The distinction mattered.
He watched:
children carrying paper flower lanterns,
elderly couples sharing grilled pastries near roadside tables,
musicians laughing together between performances,
tourists stopping to photograph hanging ribbons shifting in the night wind.
And somehow—
Aum looked like he belonged inside the city now.
The realization struck Xu Chen unexpectedly hard.
Because months ago, Aum had stood in Earth's atmosphere like someone surviving foreign gravity emotionally as much as physically.
Now he walked beside Xu Chen through crowded festival streets with warmth in his expression and human lantern light reflecting softly across his face.
Earth had changed him.
The thought hurt gently.
Because Xu Chen still could not stop asking himself:
Would Brihyansh change him back?
The fear returned quietly beneath everything warm again.
Aum noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
His hand shifted faintly against Xu Chen's back.
"You became distant."
Xu Chen exhaled softly.
"Just thinking."
A faint pause.
"The same thought from earlier."
Not a question.
Xu Chen looked toward the lantern-lit street ahead.
"Yes."
Silence settled briefly between them while crowds moved continuously around them beneath strings of glowing lights.
Then Aum spoke quietly beside him.
"Xu Chen."
The sound of his name alone softened something immediately inside Xu Chen's chest.
He looked toward him.
Aum's expression had changed again.
Still calm.
Still steady.
But gentler now somehow.
"I do not experience Earth as temporary anymore."
The world seemed to still briefly around Xu Chen.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that the surrounding festival noise blurred softly at the edges.
Xu Chen's heartbeat stumbled hard beneath his ribs.
Because Aum had answered the question from the café.
Not forgotten it.
Not avoided it.
Answered it.
The lantern light reflected warmly across Aum's face while crowds flowed endlessly behind him through the old city streets.
Xu Chen's voice lowered slightly.
"What does that mean."
Aum became very still.
Then answered with terrifying quiet honesty.
"It means when I think about returning…" His gaze remained fixed steadily on Xu Chen's. "You are included in the thought automatically now."
The sentence entered Xu Chen directly through the center of his chest.
No defenses remained afterward.
None.
Because there it was again:
not dramatic declarations,
not impossible promises,
not exaggerated romance.
Just truth.
Simple enough to destroy him completely.
Xu Chen looked away toward the lanterns overhead before his entire expression betrayed him publicly in the middle of Foreigner Street.
The night air suddenly felt too cold and too warm at the same time.
Aum stepped slightly closer through the crowd.
Not enough to draw attention.
Enough that their shoulders brushed lightly beneath the shifting lantern light.
"I am still uncertain about many future outcomes," Aum admitted softly. "But Earth no longer feels separate from emotional attachment."
Xu Chen closed his eyes briefly.
Because hearing Aum speak about love always felt somehow more dangerous when he used calm scientific honesty instead of dramatic emotion.
It made everything sound irreversible.
The crowds surged around them again as a group of performers carrying drums crossed through the intersection nearby.
Music thundered briefly through the street.
Lanterns swayed overhead in the wind.
Xu Chen opened his eyes slowly afterward.
Then finally asked the thing sitting deepest beneath his ribs.
"If Brihyansh contacted you tomorrow…"
His voice almost disappeared beneath the surrounding festival noise.
"…would you leave?"
The question settled heavily between them.
Aum stopped walking.
Immediately, Xu Chen stopped too.
Crowds flowed around them beneath the lanterns while music echoed through the night streets and flower petals drifted intermittently through the cool mountain air.
But suddenly it felt like only the two of them existed inside the moving city.
Aum looked at him steadily for several long seconds.
Then very quietly:
"I think leaving you would now feel like losing part of my own gravity."
Xu Chen stopped breathing properly.
Completely.
Because the terrifying thing was—
Aum sounded genuinely afraid of that possibility too.