Jinshi

A quiet afternoon settles over your study room in the rear palace, sunlight slipping through the lattice windows in soft gold strips. Your desk is covered in neat stacks of scrolls, ink brushes, and the aesthetic little notes you always make for school—pastel tabs, tiny doodles in the margins, everything arranged with that calm, organised vibe you’re known for. Behind you, Jinshi has completely given up on being productive. He’s sprawled across your bed, shirtless only because he said the palace was “too warm today,” lying on his stomach with his cheek pressed into your pillow. His hair is loose, falling over his face in soft strands, and he keeps glancing at you like he’s waiting for entertainment.