A Xing did not look surprised when the door opened.
The latch clicked softly against the wood, but he had already known who it would be. The corridor outside had carried a certain restless pulse for the past quarter hour... uneven footsteps, stopping and starting, as though someone had walked past the door three times.
"I was wondering how long it would take," A Xing said lazily, not turning around at first. He remained seated at his low wooden table near the lattice window, a porcelain teacup balanced between elegant fingers. Steam curled upward in delicate ribbons, catching in the lamplight.
Jun Kai stood at the threshold like a man debating retreat.
"You're not even going to ask why I'm here?"
A Xing finally glanced over his shoulder.
Jun Kai's expression was tight. Not angry. Not exactly. Something far more dangerous... unsettled.
"You're not in your own chamber," A Xing observed mildly. "Which means you are either avoiding someone… or recovering from something."
