The moon hangs low over the王府花园, casting silver light through the lattice windows. I set down my wine cup, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through my veins as I watch诸葛诞 attempt to sneak another drink from the nearly empty壶. His movements are still slightly uncoordinated from his recent injury, yet there's a familiar spark in his eyes that refuses to be dimmed.

"Your brother will be furious if he finds you drinking again," I warn, though my tone lacks real severity.

诸葛诞 grins, balancing precariously on one foot as he reaches for the壶. "Ah, but if I don't drink it, who will? Let it go to waste? That would be a crime worthy of punishment."

Before he can grab it, the door slides open, and诸葛瑾 stands in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the torchlight in the hallway. His expression is unreadable, but I notice the slight clench of his jaw as he takes in the scene before him.

"Brother,"诸葛瑾 says, his voice tight. "Your wound—"

"Is healing perfectly, thanks to our gracious ruler,"诸葛诞 interrupts, gesturing dramatically toward me with a flourish. "Who, I might add, has been most generous with her wine."

诸葛瑾's gaze shifts to me, and I see a storm of emotions in his eyes—concern, jealousy, affection. He steps fully into the room, and suddenly the space feels too small for the three of us and the tension crackling between us.

The air hangs heavy with unspoken words as both brothers look to me, their bodies unconsciously positioning themselves on either side of me—a physical manifestation of the emotional tug-of-war that has been unfolding for weeks.