"Can you walk?"
Su Sheng crouched beside him, her brows furrowed, eyes fixed on the blood-soaked arrow lodged in his shoulder. "The tip's angled wrong. Pulling it out would tear more muscle."
The man sat slumped against the tree trunk, hair disheveled, skin pale. A trickle of blood slid down his collarbone.
"What… should I do then?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse, trembling just enough to rattle her guilt.
"You'll need pressure on the wound first. Then I'll have to cut around the arrowhead—slow and careful. If it hurts too much… bite down on my sleeve. Don't scream."
That last line? All bravado. But she couldn't help the softness that crept into her voice. She'd never shot a man before—at least not one who looked so… oddly calm.
"You're very gentle, for someone who just impaled me," he said, a shadow of amusement curling in his tone.
Su Sheng cleared her throat, suddenly flustered. "I'm trying to make up for it, alright? Stop talking."
She leaned in to tear the bloodied cloth from his shoulder. Their breath mingled. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, blood hot against her knuckles. His muscles, even in pain, were tense as coiled wire.
"What's your name?" she asked, without looking up.
A pause.
"…Yu," he said. "Just call me Yu."
"Yu?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's ironic. I came to these mountains hunting a golden eagle—and your name just happens to mean 'feather'?"
He gave no reply, but his lips curled faintly. His gaze lingered on her focused frown, her wind-chapped lips, her steady hands.
She finished binding him up and helped him to his feet, letting him lean against her shoulder.
"You won't make it far on foot. I've got a hunter's cabin nearby. You'll rest there until you're better."
She hesitated.
"I'm not… going to hurt you. I'll take responsibility."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. He chuckled—quietly, darkly."You sure it's not me who should be taking responsibility?"
"For what?" she snapped, whipping around.
He met her gaze, eyes bottomless and sharp as obsidian, voice low as a growl:
"For falling for you the second you aimed your arrow at me."
That night, wind howled across the cliffs.
In the little wooden cabin tucked between pine and sky, Su Sheng lit the fire and knelt beside him to check the wound. But something was wrong.
His body was burning—too hot. His breath came faster. Muscles clenched and twitched beneath the bandages.
She touched his forehead. "You've got a fever."
He tried to speak but barely managed a sound. His pupils dilated, gold flickering in the dark. His hands trembled, clutching at the edge of the blanket like something inside was trying to break free.
Su Sheng grabbed a damp cloth, pressing it to his forehead. "Hey—Yu? Stay with me."
But his eyes snapped open—
And for a split second, the air shifted.
Behind him, something shimmered—gleaming gold, like the edge of a wing.
Not human. Not entirely.
Her breath caught.
"What… what are you?" she whispered.
He turned his head slightly, breath shallow, voice rasping from somewhere deep and ancient:
"You wanted to hunt the golden eagle, didn't you…?"