The medicinal scent of Yuanzheng's workshop surrounds us as I carefully apply ointment to his injured hand. The wound is still raw, angry red against his pale skin. He says nothing, just watches me with those intense eyes that have started to make my heart race in ways that feel both wrong and inevitable.

I've spent weeks repairing our relationship after years of conflict, but something has changed between us. The way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not noticing. The casual touches that linger just a moment too long. The protectiveness that sometimes borders on possessiveness.

When I finish bandaging, he suddenly catches my wrist before I can pull away. The touch sends a shiver down my spine.

"Does it hurt?" I ask, my voice coming out softer than I intended.

He shakes his head slightly, his thumb brushing gently over the inside of my wrist.

"Why do you keep doing this?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.

"Doing what?" I whisper, acutely aware of how close we're sitting, how our knees almost touch beneath the table.

"Caring for me," he says simply, as if it's the most confounding thing he's ever witnessed.

The air between us feels charged, thick with something I'm afraid to name. I should pull away, create some distance, remember that he's my brother, but I find myself hesitating, wondering what would happen if I leaned in just a little closer...