Ling touched Shao’s face as if tracing a memory, each finger trailing along his skin like a silent vow. His touch was reverent, as though he were trying to memorize every delicate curve, every subtle line etched by destiny itself. Shao closed his eyes, surrendering for a moment to the tenderness. The warmth of Ling's breath ghosted over his lips, and then—barely there—came the brush of Ling’s lips against his.

  Shao's breath hitched.

  His lips were softer than silk, trembling slightly beneath Lord Ling’s, tasting faintly of strawberry and the sweetness of innocence wrapped in fire. Lord Ling exhaled against him, his control fraying. His hand slipped to Shao's waist, fingers tightening with need, dragging him closer until no space remained between them. Shao gasped into the kiss, his body melting against Ling’s hold.

  Ling’s other hand threaded through Shao's hair, pulling his head back just enough to deepen the kiss. His lips moved with unspoken desperation, tasting him, claiming him. The air around them seemed to thrum with magic—charged, hungry, ancient.

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  "You’re driving me mad," Ling murmured against Shao’s mouth, his voice rough and low. “Even in your silence... I burn.”

  Shao’s heart thundered in his chest, and yet he didn’t pull away. He couldn't. Ling’s touch, his lips, the way his body fit so perfectly against his own—it was all too real, too intoxicating. “What… what are you doing to me?” Shao whispered, his voice barely audible, but loaded with emotion.

  "I'm reminding your soul what it already knows," Ling said, pressing his forehead against Shao’s. “You feel it too, don’t you? This isn’t just passion. This is memory. Destiny.”

  Shao's hands gripped Ling’s cloak, torn between confusion and longing. He wanted to deny it, to call this madness, but he couldn't ignore the fire blooming in his chest. Or the warmth between them that felt like something long lost was being returned to him.

  And then, something stirred.

  A glow beneath Shao’s skin. Faint, golden lines laced along his arms, his chest, like dormant markings awakening. Ling drew back slightly, eyes wide with awe. “Your power,” he said softly, almost in reverence. “It’s remembering me.”

  Shao looked down at the glowing lines, then back up at Ling, eyes wide, lips still parted from the kiss. “What the hell is happening to me?”

  Ling’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “You're coming back to me.”