Section 1 - Late Night Questions
Yelan opened the door to her small quarters slowly. She lived alone here, in a quiet spot away from the other maids, where she could keep her herbs and thoughts to herself. The room was empty and still. Moonlight came in from the hall, showing the man standing there in plain gray clothes and a black mask. She knew who it was right away from how he stood—calm but alert. Her heart skipped a bit, but she kept her voice even.
"My lord," she said first. "What brings you here so late? If anyone sees you like this, they'll start talking."
Jinshi pulled the mask down a little, just enough to show a small, warm turn at the corner of his mouth. His violet eyes looked at her, gentle and direct. This wasn't the fancy lord everyone knew from court. "You're right," he said quietly. "These halls love their gossip. But I couldn't sleep. Too many questions. Can we walk? Somewhere the rumors won't reach. If you'd like."
Yelan looked back into her room. No one else to wake up. The air felt cool, and she could smell the faint sandalwood from his robes. It didn't feel like a trick—just honest. She nodded. "A walk is better than standing here. Wait a second."
She grabbed her plain gray shawl from the hook by the door and put it on. It covered her bandaged hand, where the burn still hurt from that morning. The wrap hid the red skin and blisters. She'd put salve on it earlier—yarrow and sesame oil, something she mixed herself to ease the pain. It smelled a little earthy, but it worked. She closed the door soft and stepped out.
Jinshi kept the mask up as they started walking. He stayed a step behind, like he was just keeping watch. The palace was different at night—empty halls, low torchlight, wind coming through the windows. Today had been the seasonal flowering festival, with all the early cherry and plum blooms out, even though spring wasn't here yet. Merchants and nobles had filled the paths, laughing and trading garlands. But now it was quiet, leading them to the outer garden.
They took a side path, away from the lights, until they got to the cherry garden. It was empty. The trees were mostly bare, but a few petals from the festival still lay on the ground. Three days ago, Jinshi had come here as the palace lord—dressed in his fine indigo robes, with people following him. He'd asked normal questions, like which house she worked for. She'd told him her name then, simple as that. But tonight felt different. No attendants, no show. Just him, walking easy.
They stopped at the low stone wall. "This is the spot,"Jinshi said, pulling off the mask fully. His face looked tired from the day, but open, like someone you could talk to without games. Not the one who teased Maomao, or the lord who handled court stuff. "Three days ago, I saw you here, picking up those cherry petals.I asked about your work, and you said your name—Yelan. First time I heard it."
Yelan sat on the wall, pulling her shawl tighter over her hand. He sat a little ways off—not too close, but close enough to share the quiet. The air had a light plum smell from the trees. "I didn't expect the lord himself to remember that now," she said. "But why bring it up with me, this late? That's not why you came here."
He nodded, looking at the ground for a second. His voice stayed low and calm, like he was talking to someone he respected. "Fair point. The festival today... it's got me thinking about a lot. The flowers, the crowds, and spring coming soon. But your hand first. That spill at the bridge this morning. I was right there, between you and the merchants, with all the nobles around. The tray tipped, oil coming straight at me. You moved fast, caught it all. Didn't say a word. Just handled it. Does the burn still hurt bad?"
She moved her fingers under the shawl. It stung, but she kept her face steady. She didn't know he already figured out the oil wasn't just a mistake—that it had a hidden poison in it, like a bad perfume meant to hurt slow. To her, it was just wrong smelling, something off in the sweet air. "It's okay," she said, trying to play it down. "Just a burn from the spill, fussed a bit. Nothing big. Why worry about a maid's clumsy moment when the festival had so much else going on?"
Jinshi looked at her hand for a moment, then back to her eyes. His tone was gentle, caring but not pushy—like a real question from someone who noticed things. "Those moments aren't small here. You smelled it first, right? Something off under the festival smells. Sweet gone wrong, like rot in the flowers. That's not just luck. It kept things from going bad." He paused, voice even softer now. "And it reminds me of something older. That night months ago, late like this. I was out walking, couldn't sleep. Right here in this garden. I bumped into someone—a girl in a light robe, hair down, no shoes on the wet ground. She turned, eyes like yours, then she was gone. No footsteps, nothing. Just a smell left behind. Clean, like rain on clean stone. No heavy scents from the palace. It's the same one around you now—rare, different."
The question hung there without him saying it straight: Was that you? The wind picked up a little, moving some petals around. Yelan looked at him, her mouth opening a bit, but no words came. He didn't push, just waited quiet. The garden stayed still around them, the silence growing as the night went on.