The morning sun poured gently through the silk curtains of Duke Lian's chamber. The scent of incense and fresh herbs still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint sound of sparrows outside.
Lian An had drifted half-asleep beside her father's bed, her head resting on her folded arms, when a faint cough broke the silence.
"An… An'er," came a low, hoarse whisper.
Her head shot up immediately. "Father?"
Duke Lian's eyes were open — tired, pale, but alive. He blinked slowly, focusing on the faces hovering near him: his wife clutching the edge of the bed with trembling fingers, his daughters frozen mid-breath.
"Don't cry," he rasped weakly, a ghost of a smile tugging his lips. "You'll make me think I'm already dead and being mourned."
Duchess Xiu's tears spilled anyway as she pressed his hand to her cheek. "You foolish man, you nearly were!"
