Lianhua was gone before sunrise.
Ethan knew because he heard her leave. Two sets of footsteps in the outer corridor around the hour when the palace was coldest and darkest, moving quickly and without the hesitation of someone who expected to come back. A door. A silence. And then nothing.
He stayed still and counted his own breaths until the sky outside the window shifted from black to the pale, uncertain grey of very early morning.
Qingzao slept through all of it.
When she finally woke, blinking and stiff from the mat, she looked toward the inner door with the automatic anxiety of someone who expected to find Lianhua already there, already watching.
The room was empty.
Ethan watched her register this. Watched the anxiety flicker and then, slowly, change into something else. Something that looked almost like the first careful breath after a long time of holding one.
"Help me dress," he said simply.
She scrambled to her feet and did.
The new servants arrived an hour later.
