Xiao Zhi woke up smiling.
She lay still, staring at the thin cracks in the ceiling she had memorized during countless sleepless nights. Something about that morning felt different. Lighter.
Her lips curved before she could stop them. She clapped a hand over her mouth as the memory rushed back.
The steam. His face. His—
"No," she whispered hoarsely, dragging the blanket over her face. "Nope. Absolutely not. We are not doing this first thing in the morning."
It didn't help.
The moment replayed without mercy. The closeness, the heat just before their lips met.
Her face burned.
She hadn't slept much. Not from fear. Not from pain. Not from listening for footsteps in the corridor.
But because she was happy.
The realization hit her hard enough that she sat up.
Happiness felt fragile, almost forbidden, like something she wasn't meant to hold for long. She sat there gripping the blanket, as if it might slip away if she loosened her hold.
Eventually, she stood up.
The chamber looked the same as always. Bare. Cold. And yet, somehow, it didn't feel as suffocating as it had the days before.
She washed up quickly, splashing cold water on her face, but it did nothing to cool the heat lingering beneath her skin.
As she reached for her clothes, her hand hesitated.
Normally, she dressed without thought. Plain. Practical. There was no reason to care about appearances when the day ahead promised nothing but labor and humiliation.
But today, she felt like putting on different clothes. Not too flashy, as she would still ruin them from the labor, but enough to look like she had dignity.
Then, almost shyly, she opened the small wooden box on her vanity table. Inside lay the last remnants of a life she was no longer allowed to claim.
Rouge.
She stared at it, then glanced at her reflection in the bronze mirror. Pale. Tired. And yet… her eyes were bright.
She swallowed.
"What are you doing?" she asked herself softly.
She picked it up anyway.
She applied just a hint of color to her cheeks. Not too much to draw attention. Just enough to look like she cared.
She brushed her hair more carefully than usual, arranging it in a way she hadn't bothered with for days.
When she caught her reflection again, she was surprised.
It wasn't dramatic. She didn't look transformed like those women in a makeover show.
She just looked… alive.
Her heart skipped.
And then, inevitably, her mind drifted back to the hot spring. She squealed quietly, clapping both hands over her face.
"Oh my heaven," she whispered. "I kissed him. No, he kissed me!"
She peeked through her fingers, as if the mirror might scold her.
Panic followed quickly after.
What was she supposed to do now?
Pretend nothing had happened? Act normal when she saw him again? Avoid him altogether? Or worse, what if he avoided her?
Her chest tightened.
She paced the small room, chewing on her thumb, replaying imaginary scenarios like a girl after her first date.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered. With a long sigh, she forced herself to straighten up and go about her day.
Whatever happened, the palace wouldn't pause for her feelings. She was still the discarded princess. Still a servant in all but name.
She stepped out of her chamber and into the familiar torture of the day.
Only… it didn't feel like torture.
She hummed under her breath as she walked. The air felt fresher, and she swore she heard birds chirping along with her.
The chores began as usual. Scrubbing floors. Carrying water. Folding garments. The boring stuff.
Normally, each task felt like a sentence to be endured. Today, her hands moved faster. Lighter. Her body still ached, but it didn't feel like it owned her anymore.
Even when a maid sneered at her, barking orders sharper than necessary, Xiao Zhi simply nodded and kept going.
"You're awfully cheerful today," one of them muttered suspiciously.
Xiao Zhi shrugged. "Must be the weather."
The maid frowned. The weather was miserable.
She didn't care.
She finished her duties faster than usual, surprising even herself. The work felt… doable. Not because it was easier, but because something inside her had shifted.
Love, she realized faintly, was a dangerous thing.
When she was finally dismissed, she didn't go straight back to her chamber.
Instead, her feet carried her, accidentally of course, toward the Khan's quarters.
She told herself it was a coincidence. She was just taking a different route. But her heart beat faster with every step.
She slowed as she approached the familiar corridors, eyes scanning ahead, half-expecting to see a certain figure emerge from the shadows.
Nothing.
She passed by, pretending not to care. Then, a few steps later, she turned back.
Still nothing.
Her shoulders sagged. She lingered, pretending to admire a wall she had seen a hundred times before. Casually peeking back towards the direction of the Khan's courtyard.
Then she saw Arkan stepping out of the Khan's study. Her heart jumped.
"Arkan!" she called, a little too quickly.
He stopped, surprised. "Princess Consort."
She tried to sound casual. "Have you… seen Ruhan today?"
Arkan froze. Just for a fraction of a second, but she noticed.
"Oh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah… the Khan sent him on an errand."
Her smile faltered. "An errand?"
"Yes. Urgent. He… left earlier," he said, seeming more nervous than he should have been.
"Oh." The word came out flatter than she intended.
Arkan watched her carefully. "I can let him know you were looking for him."
She nodded unconsciously. "Thank you."
She turned around and was about to leave when suddenly she paused.
Her head snapped up. "Wait, no!" Too fast. Too loud. She cleared her throat. "I mean, don't tell him I was looking for him."
Arkan blinked. "Why not?"
She hesitated, "It's not that important. I was just wondering where he had been."
Arkan stared at her.
"So yeah… you don't need to tell him anything," she repeated.
He looked unconvinced but nodded slowly. "As you wish."
She thanked him and turned away before she could embarrass herself further. She couldn't be the one looking for him first. That would just be… pathetic. Girls shouldn't be the ones calling first after a first date, right? She had to play the long game.
By the time she reached her chamber, her smile had faltered. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Still looking like a sad puppy.
And then she froze.
On the small table by her bed sat a familiar jar. Her breath caught.
She stared at it, heart pounding, then crossed the room in quick steps.
The ointment was new, sealed, exactly like the ones Ruhan had brought before.
He had brought a new ointment, just as he promised he would.
"So… you were here," she whispered as her finger brushed the lid.
Her heart leapt with renewed excitement. She spun around and bolted for the door.
"Ruhan!" she called softly, peering down the corridor.
Nothing.
She tried again, louder this time. "Ruhan?" Silence answered her.
Her shoulders sagged again. Her face fell back into a frown.
Slowly, she returned to her room, closing the door behind her. She stared at the jar in her hands. Maybe he had come looking for her when she wasn't there.
She groaned and smacked her own forehead lightly. "Idiot."
If she hadn't lingered. If she hadn't gone searching for him like a fool. They might have met.
She collapsed onto the bed. Her chest ached, not with pain, but with disappointment. She curled onto her side, clutching the pillow.
"Tomorrow," she whispered to herself. "Tomorrow, maybe we'll meet."
She closed her eyes, holding onto that fragile hope, and allowed herself to sleep.