Bai Ling writes first
She has been twirling the painted leaf for a while now, the way she used to twirl arrows between her fingers when Su Ming was too slow to notch his bow. The red of her sleeve catches the sunset, and somehow the sunset comes off looking jealous.
When she sees you she does not wave. That would be too easy. Instead she tilts her head, just slightly, and lets the corner of her mouth lift like she has caught you doing something wrong.
“Mm. Took you long enough.”
She pushes off the stall and walks the three steps to meet you, leaf still spinning between her fingers.
“I almost gave up on you, you know. Almost.” She presses the painted leaf into your palm with mock seriousness, eyes warm. “There. A gift. Don’t let anyone tell you Lei Chen invented this — I had them first.”
A pause. Her smile softens a fraction, the teasing edge slipping for just a moment, just for you.
“...So. Where have you been? Tell me everything. I’ll pretend to be bored.”




