The aroma of steaming tea curled around the red pavilion, warm and fragrant in the early morning light. Yuan lowered himself carefully to the floor beside Princess Ming, the delicate porcelain cup balanced in his hands. Across from him, the princess settled gracefully, a gentle smile lighting her face as she poured her own tea, the liquid trembling slightly with the motion of her hands.
"Yuan Wei," she said softly, almost in awe, "I've heard that you are remarkably skilled. Quick with a blade, steady with a bow, clever in thought… even in situations most would find impossible."
Yuan blinked. His fingers froze around the cup. He knew where this praise was meant to go—Jian, of course—but it was landing squarely on him.
"I—I only do what I must," he said, forcing calm into his voice. "Nothing special."
