"You will damage your hands, Brother Ji'an," Wangchen murmured, his voice a low, smooth, incredibly grounding melody. He didn't let go of her wrist, his thumb resting lightly against the frantic, racing pulse of her Frost-Silk Pulse Guard. "A chef's hands are their greatest asset. Do not ruin them over the theatrics of the Sect Leader."
Ji'an blinked, startled out of her plotting by the cool, solid contact of his hand.
"Sorry," she mumbled, letting her hand drop to her side, though the lingering coolness of his touch sent a pleasant, calming shiver through her system. "I'm just... overthinking. There are too many variables. The board is too crowded."
"The board is always crowded," Wangchen replied, turning slightly to ensure his body remained a barrier against the rest of the hall. He offered a faint, reassuring smile. "But the rules of the game remain the same. Have you reviewed the compiled intelligence regarding the Shattered Realm topography?"
