"Anming..."
The little bird curled up in the lounge chair, wings tucked over herself like a nest. Her teal eyes shimmered with confusion.
"Did I... do something wrong?"
Was a star not allowed to love?
And yet—she and Anming hadn't even crossed that line. No confession, no commitment.
But strangers behind screens still attacked her. Attacked the people she cherished most.
She thought she'd grown numb to the vitriol. But no—it still hurt. A small, stubborn ache.
Was it really impossible to make the world understand her heart?
"Robin," Anming murmured, pulling her into his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. "You did nothing wrong."
"The world is what's cruel."
"Will that paradise we dream of… ever exist?"
"It will."
His promise was soft, but absolute. One day, he'd create an Eden without sorrow.
Robin buried her face deeper, silent tears dampening his shirt.
She was strong. Gossip wouldn't break her. But here, with him—she didn't have to pretend.
"Anming~" Her whisper tickled his neck. "I don't want paradise."
"Hm?"
"I want you."
She lifted her face—stunning even in tears—and stared at him with heartbreaking tenderness.
Closer than family. Deeper than lovers. More intimate than soulmates.
Pressed against her warmth, even the Child of Order flushed. He couldn't meet her gaze.
He knew her feelings. But building Eden left no room for love.
"A world with you and Brother… that's my paradise."
Her hands cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.
"Would you really leave me behind?"
"If our songs can reach the world—" Her voice turned steel. "—then so can our love."
"Anming!"
"You know. You've always known."
"I love you. Since we were children."
Tears streaked her stage-perfect face. Anyone seeing this would think he was the villain who broke the songbird's heart.
She was Robin the superstar.
But more than anything—she wanted to be Anming's little bird.
"Robin… I can't give you happiness." His gaze drifted past her, to the sunlight—and the suffering it failed to erase.
Could he really make her happy?
He didn't know.
She shook her head, resolve blazing. "You are my happiness."
The first piano melody. Their shared survival. Lyrics penned just for her. Every step he took had pulled her deeper—until she fell, willingly, irrevocably.
Light steps reversed their positions. Robin pinned Anming to the chair, her slender leg trapping his.
Eyes like autumn lakes burned with unshakable will.
"No more running."
"Look at me."
Anming blinked. He'd never heard her raise her voice—not even during high notes.
His gentle songbird had morphed into a Spartan warrior, ready to execute a Penacony Guillotine on his stubborn heart.
BANG!
The door exploded inward. Sunday stormed in, bellowing:
"ANMING! HOW DARE YOU MAKE MY SISTER CRY—"
(Armed with a hypothetical guandao and righteous fury, he'd arrived to disembowel the scoundrel.)
But the scene froze him mid-charge.
Robin—his Robin—had Anming pinned. The "victim" looked up innocently, raising his left hand in surrender.
"B-Brother?!"
Robin scrambled back, face scarlet. Sunday's soul left his body.
His perfect sister. Throwing herself at this man. Who had the AUDACITY TO RESIST?!
This defied logic. Reality. The laws of the universe.
Sunday's mind shattered. Clearly, this wasn't Anming—but some body-snatching eldritch horror. No mortal could reject Robin.
Ah. Of course.
This was Harmony's illusion. A nightmare woven by Anming's latent powers.
"Brother, it's not— We were rehearsing! The new song!" Robin flailed.
Anming stood abruptly, pulling her close.
"Thank you, little bird."
"You made me realize—lying to myself helps no one."
"Eh—?!"
Her gasp was swallowed as he kissed her.
Shy at first—then desperate. Her teal eyes glazed pink, drowning in sweetness.
Sunday? Forgotten.
At three years old, a golden-haired boy had claimed her heart. Twenty years later—nothing changed.
"Anming… hold me tighter."
She melted against him, as if making up for lost time.
Then—
"TOO—"
A blinding light erupted. Anming turned, bewildered.
"Too…?"
"TOO CHU YO WEI—!"
"Wait, no—"
The bedroom exploded.