Tenth month, same year
Senior cadets were woken by a single gong at the third watch.
Torches flared along the dormitory porch; Commandant Guo's voice rang through corridors.
"Boots, belts, bows—roof muster in fifty breaths. First five to touch the Moon-Beam Flag keep their white robes through winter. The rest scrub pots until snow melts."
Lanterns swung, sleepy curses flew.
Lan Yue rolled from cot, laced soft-soled roof shoes, buckled Shen's shortened sword across her back so it would not clatter.
Outside, frost silvered the tiles; breath plumed like dragon smoke.
The Course
From barracks gutter to north-eastern watch tower ran a spine of roofs: curved palace halls, steep pagoda tiers, a final leap to the slender flagpole bridge where a white silk pennant snapped in starlight.
Total distance: half a li, half of it uphill.
Icy glaze promised broken bones for the careless.
Cadets lined the gutter—thirty seniors, cheeks already numb.
Among them Zhao Yuan, hair tied with red cord, grin fierce.
Zhao Shen stood aside in officer black; not racing, but timing with a sandglass—judge, not competitor, yet his gaze found Yue and stayed.
Start
Guo slammed the bronze shield.
Thirty shadows spilled across the roof sea.
Yue sprinted low, toes finding ridge grooves.
Tiles clattered behind—someone slipped, slid screaming into rain barrel below.
She blocked the sound, counted breaths: one two three, leap the lion-head eave, land on library slope, knees soft.
Ahead, Yuan pulled ahead with three others—longer legs, fearless laugh.
She conserved strength, let them break wind for her.
Pagoda Climb
Five-storey octagon loomed, roofs stacked like cake layers.
Leaders swung up corner beams; Yue chose the rear face, darker, fewer rivals.
Fingers numbed on froze-glazed wood; she used sword scabbard tip for balance, scraped ice free.
At third tier a gust slammed; her sleeve snapped like a sail.
Below, Shen's voice carried—unofficial, instinctive: "Low stance!"
She dropped centre, weathered the blast, climbed.
At pagoda crown she vaulted dragon-spine ridge, saw Yuan already descending far side, torchlight catching his red headband—first place for now.
The Leap
Final obstacle: a three-zhang gap between pagoda corner and flag bridge tower.
Only two cedar beams spanned the void, slick as glass.
First racer attempted, slipped—caught beam belly-first, wind knocked out, crawled back.
Second froze, blocking rest.
Yuan didn't pause; he sprinted, used the tilted roof lip as ramp, launched—cleared half gap, landed crouched on opposite beam, wobbled but held.
Crowd below roared.
Yue reached the edge as third boy teetered aside.
Heart hammered; too far to jump clean.
She unslung scabbard, jammed it horizontal between roof tiles, stepped back three paces.
Shen's sandglass hissed; his eyes narrowed—he guessed her plan, approved with faint nod.
Take-off
She sprinted, pushed off scabbard like pole-vaulter, body flat, arms wide—falcon over water.
Mid-air wind roared; frost stars glittered.
She tucked, rolled on bridge decking, absorbed shock with shoulder, came up running.
Gasps behind—a girl had flown.
Yuan glanced back, surprise flashing to grin. "Race you to silk!"
Side by side they sprinted narrow planks.
Flag fluttered ten paces away.
Yue felt tiles vibrate—another cadet behind, desperate, gaining.
She poured last breath into legs; Yuan matched, laughter half wild.
Finish
They leapt together, hands stretching.
Fingers brushed silk simultaneously; cloth tore free, whipped around both wrists like binding.
They landed rolling, tangled, panting frost.
Above, the pole clanged empty.
Cadets below erupted.
Guo strode onto bridge, torch high. "Two firsts—tie!"
Yuan raised their joined wrist. "Shared victory, shared pots—none to scrub!"
Laughter swept the night.
Yue's chest heaved, cheek against frost, elbow planted in Yuan's ribs; he didn't seem to mind.
After-race – Warm-room beneath tower
Cadets wrapped blankets, drank ginger wine.
Physicians checked bruises; Yue's shoulder purpled, nothing broken.
Shen entered, sandglass empty, expression stern.
Room hushed.
He stopped before Yue and Yuan, still linked by the torn pennant.
"Clever leap," he said to her—voice low, official. "Report technique tomorrow—all cadets will learn it."
He turned to Yuan. "Reckless but effective. Next time clear the beam before showing off."
Yuan saluted with free hand, eyes dancing.
Shen's gaze dropped to their bound wrists; something flickered—jealousy? pride?—then he unclasped his dagger, cut the silk, freeing them.
"Flag mended comes from your pay," he added, almost gentle. "Now rest."
He left, cloak swirling cold air.
Barracks before dawn
Yuan walked Yue across courtyard.
"Shared pots means shared reward. Dawn feast—my treat."
She chuckled. "Too sleepy to eat."
At dormitory door he paused, sudden seriousness. "You flew tonight. I'd have reached alone, but together was better."
He lifted the scrap of pennant still round his wrist, tied it round hers instead. "Trophy for the swan."
Before she could answer he jogged off, red headband fluttering like a second flag.
Inside cot – candle low
She studied the torn silk—white embroidered swan, now split between them.
Memory rose of another cloth once sliced: the black signal strip on a frozen bridge.
She touched the new bandage, felt two promises circling, neither yet landing.
Outside, snow began—first flakes drifting past the lattice.
Winter had arrived early, sealing roofs and hearts under the same cold glaze.
She blew out the light, closed her eyes, and dreamed of beams too slick to walk alone, and of two voices calling from opposite banks, each waiting for her to choose the direction of the leap.