The kitchen's lantern burned low now, its flame a tired flicker, casting the nook in a hazy gold that blurred the edges of pots and racks like a dream fading at wake. Steam from the chamomile had long settled, leaving a faint herbal veil on the air—earth-sweet and mint-sharp, clinging to their robes like a shared memory. The stone floor held the night's cool under their bare feet, but the first gray hint of dawn crept through the high window slit, turning the shadows soft and reluctant. Time slipped quiet, the palace stirring faint beyond the walls—distant rooster crow, wind rustle through jasmine vines, the world edging toward light. Yelan set her mug down with a soft clink on the counter, the clay still warm in her palms, her shoulder's silver pricks a dull throb under the robe, like echoes refusing to fade.
She glanced at the window, the gray light kissing her cheek pale. A small sigh escaped, not tired, but practical—maid's instinct kicking in. "Lord... morning's coming soon. You should go. Before the halls wake and eyes start wandering." Her voice was gentle, no push, just fact—eyes meeting his brief, that wild spark dimmed to soft care, teeth hidden behind a quiet smile.
Jinshi paused, mug halfway to lips, the tea's last sip forgotten—warm trail lingering on his tongue, chamomile's calm a counter to the twist in his chest. He set it down slow, thud soft on wood, purple eyes holding hers a beat too long. The kitchen felt smaller now, the air thick with unsaid things—their sneak, the hide, her hints of scars and prices.Go? Already? But she was right. Dawn meant duty, robes and ranks snapping back. He straightened, cloak draped over his arm like a shed skin, voice low and even, laced with that reluctant warmth. "You're right. Can't have the rear palace buzzing with lordly midnight visits." A half-smile tugged, teasing light to ease the pull. "Though... this was better than any council meeting."
Yelan nodded, standing with him—robe swish faint, bare feet padding once on tile, cool grain biting gentle. "Better than council? High praise. Safe travels back, then. And... thanks. For the limp lesson. And the listen." Her grin peeked quick—teeth sharp-pretty, wild edge glinting like a secret shared.
He moved toward the door, steps slow, the latch click waiting under his hand. But at the threshold, he stopped. Turned back. One last look. Full. Taking her in—the face soft in lantern's wane, eyes dark and steady like polished teak, holding storms and smiles. Her hair, loose waves framing cheeks, catching the dawn's gray like silk threads in mist. Hands at her sides, fingers slim and sure, the bandage on her right one stark white—linen tight from her rush to shield him in the hall, blood-spot faded but story clear: For me. She took the hit. And the shoulder... robe collar dipped just so, silver holes glinting faint, pin-sharp and cold, like stars fallen wrong. Her gift. Her curse. Carrying it quiet.Heart tugged hard—warm ache, fierce protect. Who are you, Yelan? Girl from nowhere, fitting here like you were always meant. I'll find out. And fix what I can.
From the doorway, his thoughts tangled—She's more than maid, more than helper. Fire under skin. Scars for others... not anymore. He reached into his cloak pocket, pulling a small box—lacquered wood, palm-sized, etched faint with moon petals, smooth under his fingers. "Wait. I brought something. For the healing. Might help with... those." He pressed it into her hands—cool wood against her warm skin, light weight like a promise. "Open later. Promise."
Yelan took it, fingers closing gentle, the box's edge pressing into her palm—solid, real. Surprise widened her eyes, then softened to thanks. "You... didn't have to. But... thank you." No more words. Just that look—grateful, bold peek, teeth hidden but smile true.
Jinshi nodded once, last glance lingering—face, teeth, hair, hands, bandage, scar.Mine to guard. Then he slipped out, doorshhbehind, dawn's gray swallowing him whole.
In the quiet kitchen, Yelan's thoughts swirled soft—Box from him. For me. Like he sees it all. The scars. The price. Fingers traced the wood, petal etch like a touch. Girl from nowhere? Maybe. But here... feels right.Heart light, despite the throb—dawn's promise, not end.
[ From Gaoshun's distant post, thoughts turned inward—The lord's late. Sneak in maids' wing? Foolish. But her... Yelan. Girl with scents that sniff out lies. Bandage from festival, now this chill echo. Protects him quiet. Like a shadow blade. Watch closer. For his sake. Hers too.
Maomao, in the apothecary's back, stirred a pot absent—Xiao Mei's mending. That mix... village old, but sharp. Yelan's nose—gift or hex? Pale after, shoulder hidden funny. Lord lingered long. Too long. Smells like trouble. Or something sweeter. Poke later. For science.
And Yelan, box in hand, dawn light spilling full now—golden on scars, warm on skin—whispered to empty air. Equal pain. But tonight... shared a little. The palace woke slow, but her story? Just blooming.]
End of Volume 1...