After dinner, Han Liang excused himself and returned to his room.
No one objected. They had traveled for days, and there was still a month ahead — time enough to sit with family, to talk, to simply be home. The warmth of the house followed him down the corridor.
He lay on his bed for a while, the wine sitting lightly in his chest, his thoughts drifting without his permission. The ceiling above him was the same as it had always been. The sounds of the house were familiar. Everything around him was exactly as it should be.
He rose after a while and opened the window.
The night air came in cool and quiet, carrying the scent of pomegranate orchards and pine from the slopes above the valley. He closed his eyes and let it settle against his face.
Yuan Yu's face came to him first. Then his voice. Then the way he would lower his eyes when thinking — that small, private habit Han Liang had noticed without meaning to.
"I wonder what he's doing now."
His voice was barely above a murmur.
"Is he safe?"
The question had no answer. The night offered nothing back. Han Liang remained at the window for a long while, his hand resting against the frame, before finally stepping away.
This feeling was not one he recognized.
---
Within the Jewel Sect, the past six days had been difficult.
For days, every corner of the residence had carried the same tension — low voices, careful footsteps, the constant smell of incense and medicine. Sleep had come in fragments. Worry had settled so deeply into his expression that even Rui, who said little, had begun watching him with quiet concern.
Rui had noticed, too, that Yuan Yu's face had grown thinner.
But on the sixth day, Tai Ling opened her eyes.
It happened quietly. No dramatic shift, no sudden movement — simply a slow return, as though she had merely been somewhere else for a while and had decided, at last, to come back.
She looked at Yuan Yu.
And smiled.
The doctor stepped forward, checked her pulse, gave a small nod.
A breath seemed to leave the entire room at once.
"I want to rest," Tai Ling said softly. Her voice was weak but clear.
Leader Zhen remained at her side. One by one, the others filed out — carrying relief, and beneath it, the particular exhaustion that only comes after days of holding fear very still.
In the corridor, Yuan Yu paused.
He turned slightly toward Rui.
"You've worked hard as well," he said.
Rui seemed surprised.
Then he smiled. "It is my duty. I am not tired."
Yuan Yu looked at him for a moment.
"Tonight," he said quietly, "we can finally rest."
---
Servants had hot water prepared before he even reached the bathing room.
Yuan Yu sank into it without a word. The heat moved through him slowly — through his shoulders, his hands, the tension he had been carrying for six days without setting down. Steam filled the space. For the first time since his grandmother had collapsed, he felt himself breathe fully.
When he emerged, he changed into light clothing and returned to his room. The lamp cast a soft glow across the walls. He sat down, opened his notebook, and began to write.
The worry he had felt for his grandmother found its place on the page. The regret of the unfinished farewell. The quiet ache that had settled somewhere in his chest and refused to leave.
He wrote until the ache felt smaller.
Then he closed the notebook, dimmed the lamp, and lay down.
Tomorrow would not be simple. There were matters to attend to — his grandmother's condition, the sect's responsibilities, records, accounts. The Emperor's birthday was approaching. The journey to the Tiger Sect was only weeks away.
But tonight, for the first time in six days, the weight had lifted enough to breathe.
Sleep came before he could think of anything else.