Zhang Tian, having revealed his fear, took the dagger. He spun it, but this time, he didn't even try to hide the subtle manipulation. The dagger landed unequivocally on Jia Wei Xin. The moonlight seemed to dance on the edge of the blade, a silent spotlight.
At that moment, the air shifted.
Things were getting spicier.
Jia Wei Xin, cheeks flushed from wine and laughter, had crossed into that bold, uninhibited stage of drunkenness—more daring than ever. Her smile was slow and wicked, her confidence radiating with the kind of heat that made hearts skip.
Both Liu Mo Fei and Zhang Tian were well aware.
And neither stopped her.
They exchanged a glance across the brazier—amused, alert, and absolutely scheming. They knew the game had tipped into dangerous territory, and they were both prepared to play dirty if it meant gaining ground. Dirty—but not dishonorable. Each had their pride, and their own unspoken boundaries.
There was a strange understanding between them now, born of rivalry and grudging respect. A twisted sort of bromance: equal parts tension and alignment, competitiveness and restraint.
And Jia Wei Xin?
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming like starlight. "Alright, alright. Truth or Dare, boys?"
"Dare, Supreme Commander Hot Buns," Zhang Tian said, a dangerous light in his eyes.
"Dare," Liu Mo Fei echoed, his smirk back in full force.
"Fine. Dare," she conceded.
"Kiss me on the cheek," Zhang Tian said, leaning slightly towards her.
Jia Wei Xin paused, then rolled her eyes playfully. "Only if you promise not to glow about it for a week." She leaned in and quickly pecked Zhang Tian's cheek. It was a light touch, but a jolt went through him, visible only in the sudden stillness of his posture.
Liu Mo Fei exchanged a sharp glare with Zhang Tian. Watch out! the look clearly said.
Jia Wei Xin spun, and the dagger landed on Liu Mo Fei. He chose truth.
"Sifu," Jia Wei Xin said, her eyes twinkling mischievously, but a curious warmth stirring in her chest. "Tell me one thing that you like most about me. Just one thing."
Liu Mo Fei took a long, slow sip of wine, his gaze falling upon Jia Wei Xin. His eyes, usually so light with jest, deepened, reflecting years of shared trials and unspoken admiration. He liked many things about her, a long list that stretched back to the first day they met and he'd sensed she was different from anyone he'd ever encountered. But throughout their journey, one quality consistently stood out, etched itself onto his memory, and had ultimately saved his life. He looked at her not just as a disciple, but as the fierce, loyal woman who had defied death for him.
"Strength," he said, his voice softer than the wine-fueled bravado. "Unwavering strength in the face of impossible odds."
Zhang Tian, who had been listening intently, a rare intensity in his gaze, felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest. Her strength, especially in that moment of desperate sacrifice for Liu Mo Fei, had been utterly disarming for him—a man raised to believe emotion and sacrifice were weaknesses. It was the quality that had first cracked open his carefully constructed emotional walls, a truth he now recognized and wholeheartedly, if grudgingly, admired.
Zhang Tian stood up. "Agreed! Let's all drink to this!"
They clinked cups—one sifu, one demon king—united, if only for a moment, by the absurd irony that they'd both fallen for the same reckless and impossibly strong woman who refused to pick either of them.
Then Liu Mo Fei spun the dagger again. It landed—once more—on Jia Wei Xin. She chose dare.
"Hold the hand of the person to your left until your next turn."
And of course, that was Liu Mo Fei.
Before she could blink, Liu Mo Fei reached for her hand—his grip firm, warm, claiming. Their fingers laced together like it had always been meant to happen.
Silence fell. Not awkward—but charged.
Jia Wei Xin swallowed. Her heart didn't beat faster.
It thundered.
Zhang Tian looked between them, lips twitching—jealousy warring with reluctant respect. "Careful, Sect Leader," he said coolly. "Next round, I might dare her to sit on my lap until sunrise."
Jia Wei Xin's eyes widened. "Zhang Tian!"
Liu Mo Fei's hand tightened around hers. "You'll have to survive the night first."
Zhang Tian leaned back, smirking. "We'll see who she picks when this game is over."
A tension braided with affection. A triangle of glances, of nearly-brushed fingers, of things left unspoken. And in that soft, fire-lit courtyard, with stars stretching overhead, it became clearer than ever:
The game they were playing was no longer just a game.
Jia Wei Xin, despite her drunken splendor, suddenly realized something important.
"You guys cheat! You manipulated the dagger!"
Liu Mo Fei shrugged innocently. "Martial instinct."
Zhang Tian raised both brows. "It's not cheating if you're good at it."
"Next round," Jia Wei Xin declared, grabbing the dagger. "We spin with my qi only. If the dagger still points at me, I'm throwing both of you off the balcony."
Laughter rang out under the stars, light and unfiltered.
And they played late into the night, spinning, drinking, daring—until even the stars grew tired of watching and the embers burned low.
Eventually, the wine ran dry, the dares softened into murmurs, and the night swallowed the last of their laughter. They drifted into sleep beneath the stars—still in a crooked triangle, fingers barely touching, dreams tangled with kisses, rivalries, and the ache of what might come next.