"Little Puddle... water..."

Xie Wangchen froze.

Time seemed to slow down. The forest, the fog, and the simmering congee all faded into the background. All he could see was Lin Ji’an.

He should have been repulsed. The Young Master was drooling slightly. He looked unkempt. He was demanding service the moment he woke up.

But instead of annoyance, a strange, violent sensation slammed into Wangchen’s chest. It felt like a physical blow, a sharp, piercing heat that started in his heart and radiated out to his fingertips.

’Cute.’

The word echoed in his mind like a curse.

’Why is he so cute?’

It was the vulnerability. It was the absolute trust.

Ji’an woke up defenseless, messy, and demanding, without a shred of pretense, because she knew Wangchen was there. She felt safe enough to be ugly in front of him.

Wangchen felt his throat go dry. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

’What is this?’ Panic flared in his mind. ’Why am I flushing? Do I have a fever? Is it the Miasma?’

He quickly rationalized it. He grabbed a cup of water, his hands trembling slightly, and forced his brain to work.

’It’s the Brotherhood,’ he told himself firmly. ’Yes. That’s it. He looks like a helpless younger brother. I feel... responsible. I feel the urge to wipe his face and comb his hair because that is what a loyal guardian does. It is a purely platonic, protective instinct.’

Having successfully lied to himself, Wangchen walked over, knelt by the bedroll, and offered the cup.

"Here," he said, his voice unusually gentle.

Ji’an drank greedily, some water spilling down her chin. Wangchen didn’t even think. He reached out with his sleeve and wiped her chin dry.

Ji’an blinked, her vision clearing. She looked at Wangchen, who was kneeling close, staring at her with an intense, unreadable expression.

"Morning," she mumbled, offering a sleepy, lopsided grin. "Did you sleep? You look intense."

Thwack!

Another imaginary arrow hit Wangchen’s heart.

"I slept enough," Wangchen said hoarsely, standing up abruptly to hide the redness of his ears. "Breakfast is ready. Wash your face. You look like a demon victim."

Across the clearing, a rustle of silk announced the awakening of the disruption.

Gu Zhiwei sat up. Unlike Ji’an, he woke up gracefully, though he hissed in pain as his stiff muscles protested the hard ground. He looked around, disoriented, until his eyes landed on the scene by the fire.

He saw the "Cold-Faced Guard" standing over the "Spatula Hero". He saw the way Wangchen handed Ji’an a warm, wet towel. He saw the way Wangchen stood, his body angled to shield Ji’an from the wind, gaze tracking Ji’an’s every movement.

Gu Zhiwei felt a pang of something he couldn’t name. Envy?

"Good morning," Gu Zhiwei called out, his voice melodious but weak.

Wangchen’s head snapped toward him. The tenderness vanished instantly, replaced by a gaze as cold as the Northern Glaciers.

"You’re awake," Wangchen stated flatly. "Good. Eat quickly. We will leave in one incense stick of time."

He scooped a bowl of congee, mostly broth, very little meat, and walked toward Gu Zhiwei.

Ji’an, who was currently burying her face in the warm towel Wangchen had prepared, heard the exchange. Her brain, finally booting up, processed the scene.

Another Interaction between Wangchen and Gu Zhiwei?

[System Alert: Fate Convergence Detected. If the Villain now feeds the Protagonist, ’Bond of Gratitude’ may trigger.]

"NOPE!"

Ji’an dropped the towel. She scrambled up, one boot on and one boot off, and lunged across the campsite.

"I’ll take that!" she shouted, intercepting Wangchen just as he reached Gu Zhiwei.

She snatched the bowl from Wangchen’s hand, nearly spilling the hot soup.

Both men stared at her.

"Young Master?" Wangchen frowned. "That is for the guest. Yours is in the pot. It has the premium cuts."

"I know, I know!" Ji’an laughed nervously, positioning her body physically between Wangchen and Gu Zhiwei. She shoved the bowl into Gu Zhiwei’s hands with aggressive hospitality. "But Brother Xie has been working all morning! He’s tired! Look at those dark circles! As his Young Master, how can I let him serve others?"

She turned to Gu Zhiwei, flashing her best ’Customer Service Smile’.

"Brother Gu, please eat. My guard is a bit... rough around the edges. He might spill it on you. I, Lin Ji’an, personally ensure your dining experience!"

Gu Zhiwei held the warm bowl. He looked up at Ji’an.

The morning sun was just breaking through the mist, illuminating Ji’an’s messy hair and bright, frantic eyes.

To Gu Zhiwei, she didn’t look like a panic-stricken transmigrator trying to stop a BL plot. She looked like a vibrant, caring, energetic youth who was reprimanding his own guard to ensure the guest was treated well.

’He is so kind,’ Gu Zhiwei thought, his cheeks tinting pink. ’He personally served me. He cares about my comfort.’

"Thank you, Brother Lin," Gu Zhiwei said softly, taking a sip. His eyes widened. "This... this is delicious."

"Of course it is," Ji’an said, blocking Wangchen’s view of the protagonist with her shoulder. "Now, eat up! We have mountains to climb!"

Behind her, Xie Wangchen stood frozen.

He stared at Ji’an’s back.

’He took the bowl from me. He didn’t want me to serve the pretty boy.’

Wangchen’s mind raced. Why? Was Ji’an jealous? Did he not want Wangchen serving others?

Or...

’Or is he infatuated with that white-robed peacock? Did he want to be the one to serve him to gain favor?’

The second thought soured his mood instantly. The vinegar jar in his heart shattered. He glared at the back of Gu Zhiwei’s head as if he could bore a hole through it with his gaze alone.

"Young Master," Wangchen said, his voice low and tight. "Your breakfast is getting cold."

"Coming!" Ji’an chirped. She gave Gu Zhiwei a thumbs up. "Enjoy the meal, stay right there, don’t move, and don’t talk to the guard, bye!"