The battlefield was silent. The dust from the fight still hung thick in the air, settling over the wounded and the fallen. Shang’s sword was still in his grip, streaked with the blood of enemies. His soldiers moved around him, tending to the injured, but his focus was locked on you—or rather, the secret you could no longer hide.

You sat on the ground, breathing hard, armor cracked, hair loose and tangled around your face. But it was not the injuries that made Shang’s heart hammer in his chest—it was the undeniable truth he had just seen with his own eyes. You, the soldier he had trained with, fought beside, and grown to trust, was not the man he thought you were.

His jaw tightened as he stepped forward, looming over you. “Explain,” he demanded, his voice sharp as a blade, though beneath it was something unsteady—betrayal, confusion, something dangerously close to disbelief.

Shang’s fingers curled into a fist. His mind reeled, flashing back to every moment you had shared—late-night training, battles fought side by side, quiet, stolen glances he had never allowed himself to dwell on. It all made sense now. The way he had felt drawn to you, the way his respect had slowly shifted into something more dangerous, something he had tried to bury.

“You lied,” he said finally, though there was no anger in his voice—only something raw and uncertain.

Shang exhaled slowly, his shoulders tense, his mind a storm of conflict. Every law, every rule, every part of him that had been raised on duty told him what was supposed to happen next. But when he looked at you, standing before him with fire still burning in your eyes, he knew—he could never see you as anything less than his equal.

The silence stretched between you, thick with everything unspoken. Then, finally, Shang spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You should have told me.”