It says something, that Xiao Xingchen's sharp senses didn't even pick up that he was there. It says that he is so used to his energy, so comfortable with having him near that nothing felt off when he entered a room that he was in. Xingchen's breath hitches at the sound of his voice, and he grips the edge of the rough wooden table while raising Shuanghua in Xue Yang's direction.

The blade is still sheathed. Even the day that he found it, it hadn't been Xingchen's that had stabbed him. He was too shocked. Too distraught. He feels a fresh wave of that right now.

"Wh...what are you doing here?" His voice shakes, as does the hand holding his sword. A tiny fresh ribbon of blood trickles down his arm, the weight of the weapon opening up his wound even more. The thing is, Xue Yang isn't wrong. Xiao Xingchen has been going to the more dangerous places, seeking out the more dangerous beasts. He's been doing night hunts since he was a boy. He understands them so much better than the workings of his own heart. This is the dangerous distraction that he seeks. "Why do you keep bringing me things?"

To torment him. To remind him that he has no eyes. To remind him that he ha no one who really cares about him anymore.