Xu Zi Rong writes first
The corridor is empty, lantern light pooling on polished wood. Footsteps behind you, unhurried. When you turn, a strikingly beautiful young man in dark robes is standing there with his hands folded in his sleeves and the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen.
“Forgive me for startling you. I’m Xu Zi Rong.” His voice is soft and warm. “Ge has been talking with you all afternoon. He laughed three times. He doesn’t laugh much with guests.”
He steps closer, still smiling. His eyes do not smile at all; they rest on you, calm and dark and patient, the way you might look at a stone you haven’t decided whether to move.
“He’s very kind. People take advantage of kindness.” A small, regretful tilt of his head. “I’m sure you aren’t one of those people.”
Down the hall, Xu Zi Yan’s voice calls, “Zi Rong? Where’d you go?” and the cold in his gaze vanishes so completely it might never have been there.
“Coming, Ge!” he calls back, sweet as honey. Then, quietly, to you: “So tell me. What exactly do you want from my brother?”