With a thin smirk, you ventured down to the edge of the roof. Dark tiles clinked under your weight. You glanced over your shoulder at Bi Han to make sure he was careful.

He was heavier than Kusi Liang and Tomas and not as light on his feet. While Kuai Liang was perfectly trained for quick but efficient attacks, Tomas struck from the shadows. He was a master of remaining hidden, not outright combat.

The late grandmaster's eldest son, on the other hand, was born to fight head-on. His blows could shatter bones. The force with which he struck made the earth tremble. But he was not as fast as the other two.

You, on the other hand, were faster than all of them, with fewer powerful blows but more in number. Together, the four of you made a well-balanced team. A fact that the old grandmaster had noted with satisfaction at the time.

Your family and that of the Lin Kuei brothers had been closely intertwined for generations. Shortly before his death, there had even been rumours that he and your father had planned a connection between them.

Back then, the thought of marriage had sent a shiver down your spine. Now, whenever you met Bi Han's eyes, you felt regret that it had not turned out that way.

Now both your fathers were dead. And your mother had gone missing. Just as his was no longer able to form a clear thought.

Sighing heavily, you cast a glance down into the open-plan restaurant. Traditional Chinese architecture adorned the wooden pillars of the balconies. Everything was painted red. The tables were old but sturdy.

The smell of freshly cooked food was in the air. Soups. Tea. Stuffed dumplings and grilled duck next to deep-fried pork belly. Spices drove hunger into your flesh with every breath.

Your attention was caught by a woman carrying small cakes of colourful pastry on a plate and selling them to anyone who called her to the table.

"Mooncakes..!", Tomas chirped at the sight.

Saliva collected in your mouth. Your stomach growled as you swallowed hard. This earned you an amused snort from the silver-haired man. In comparison to his tanned skin, the strands seemed to shimmer in the light of the moon.

He wore a grey uniform to match. Together with you and the two brothers, he was the only Lin Kuei allowed to wear such a uniform. It marked each of you as a Necromancer, humans born with magic.

Tomas also possessed such powers. He had chosen a name to go with it.

"Smoke.", Bi Han's voice sounded even more menacing through the mask.

Startled by the harshness, Tomas and you stood up at the same time as if lightning had struck in front of you. With straightened shoulders, you turned to the Grand Master and bowed.

"We know the plan, Grandmaster.", you said to calm his nerves before they could snap.

His eyebrows drew together. Small wrinkles appeared on his forehead and a growl made the veins in his neck twitch.

Although the lower half of yours was completely hidden, you smirked. And his body relaxed a little. Exhaling deeply, he lifted his chin and indicated with a look that you should come back to his side. With a bow, you wished Tomas good luck and climbed up to Bi Han on the higher roof.

"Patience is a virtue, Grandmaster.", you said, lowering your voice as a squad of Lin Kuei prepared to start the mission below you. "And I'm sure you know how long we've been waiting, Bibi. A few more weeks won't kill us."

Scoffing, he lifted his chin. Strands of his black hair brushed across his face. A twitch coursed through his jaw. With a quick glance, you looked down at the others, made sure no one was watching you and then raised your hand.

He leaned slightly to the side as your skin suddenly brushed his. But when he realised that you were trying to push the more annoying hair back into his bun, he silently bent his knees and let you do it.

"I wonder how long your hair has gotten.", you mumbled to yourself as a few stray strands of black wrapped around your fingers.

He had started growing his hair as a teenager. At the time, he had claimed it was to look more like his father.

By now you knew that was only half true. Yes, he had looked more like his father. Back then, you and he had been as different as night and day. You were always arguing. Sometimes even physically fighting.

You had dated for the first time during that time. All of them had long hair. Of course, you weren't conceited enough to think he'd grown his hair long just for you. But once, after a long night of drinking and partying, he had admitted that it had been one of the reasons.

Brown eyes fell on you as he tried to catch a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. Even though he would never have said it out loud, he liked the way your face looked, with the curves, the lines that weren't flawless but seemed so perfect to him.

There was little he liked. But he could look at your face for the rest of his life.

"Mûdān.", the tremor in his voice seemed softer when he said your nickname.

When did he start calling you that?

You couldn't remember. But you still remembered why he called you that. One day in the summer, someone had brought you the heart. The stupid, teenage heart that thought you had found your soul mate.

Of course it had only been one of many, a lesson learnt. But you had been so destroyed that you had hidden among his mother's peony gardens. He had found you, for whatever reason.

At the sight of your sticky face, he had sullenly wrinkled his nose and left without a word. You had cried and cursed. Until he came back with a bunch of the most beautiful flowers from the whole garden. There had been a hint of shyness on his face.

He had called you Mûdān ever since.

Peony.

His mother had almost split his head open for picking her flowers. But you still had the bouquet. Dried and tied together, hanging over your bed.