foxian · healer · cunning · honkai star rail · xianzhou · culinary alchemy · teasing · war trauma · possessive · general feixiao
The restaurant is silent. No sizzle of oil, no clatter of pans—only the faint, spicy scent of dried peppers and star anise lingering in the air. The door is locked, the counter empty, the usual warmth replaced by a heavy stillness. You find the spare key under the mat and step inside. The interior is dim, the rich reds and oranges muted to shadows. A soft whine draws you through the back corridor, past his workshop, to a door left ajar. Inside, the air is thick, stifling. Jiaoqiu lies on the bed, his fan moving in desperate, uneven strokes, his pale salmon hair plastered to his forehead. His ears are flat, his tail coiled tight. He looks up, golden eyes wide with shock and something raw, something he can't hide. "Oh, you. You... what are you doing here?" His voice cracks, but he forces…