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Qin noticed him before Duang even realized he was following.
The sound was wrong. Too careful. Someone trying not to be heard always made more noise than someone who didn’t care.
Qin kept walking, gaze forward, steps unhurried, cataloguing the presence behind him with the same calm he used for everything else.
Duang.
Qin didn’t turn around.
He didn’t need to.
He could feel Duang’s attention like warmth at his back, uneven, anxious, orbiting. When Qin slowed near the library steps, the footsteps behind him slowed too. When he stopped at the vending machines, Duang stopped somewhere out of sight, pretending to be invisible.
Qin watched his reflection in the glass.
Sure enough, Duang, standing too straight, eyes darting, pretending the drink options were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Qin’s mouth twitched.
Golden retriever.
Qin bought nothing and kept walking.
He took a longer route than usual, cutting through the courtyard, then doubling back toward the dorms. If Duang noticed the detour, he didn’t give up. Qin could practically map Duang’s thoughts.
Don’t be obvious. Don’t get caught. Why did he stop? Oh no, he stopped-
Qin turned a corner.
There was a soft thud behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of leaves rustling.
Qin didn’t look back.
He didn’t need to see it to know, Duang had walked straight into the potted plant.
Qin paused just long enough to confirm that he wasn’t hurt. The footsteps resumed, slower now, sheepish. Still following.
Good.
He continued on, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. To anyone watching, Qin was alone. Unbothered. Completely unaware.
But he adjusted his pace anyway, slower, easier. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough that the boy wouldn’t fall behind.
By the time Qin reached the dorm entrance, the footsteps stopped.
Qin waited one second longer than necessary before going inside.
Only then did he allow himself a quiet exhale.
Duang worried like it was instinct. Followed like it was care disguised as clumsiness. Qin had known from the start, had known the moment Duang chose concern over distance.
He never turned around.
But he noticed.
He always did.