Han Suyin dozed softly in the carriage, her head resting lightly against Qin Fuhua's shoulder. The gentle rhythm of the wheels over the worn dirt road lulled her into deeper slumber, strands of her hair brushing against his sleeve with every sway.
Outside, the golden light of late afternoon poured over rolling fields, and in the distance, the familiar outline of Liaoping emerged—one of the very first villages they had ever set foot in together.
The closer they drew, the more the air seemed to hum with quiet
familiarity.
Liaoping had the same stone-paved streets and tiled rooftops, yet now it felt touched by the weight of all they had endured since that first visit. Qin Fuhua's gaze softened.
This place was not only a resting point—it was a homecoming.
They had chosen to return here deliberately.
The village rumored to be plagued by Teng Zhi sightings lay only a short ride away, and Liaoping's safety offered them a discreet base. As the carriage pulled into the courtyard of their manor, the air filled with a warm, almost playful energy.
Several of the maids rushed out to greet them, their faces lighting up at the sight of Suyin.
"Oh, you've returned at last!" one called, eyes crinkling with joy.
Another laughed, "We've missed your chaos, Lady Han—it keeps the manor alive."
They even spared a knowing glance toward Qin Fuhua, whose stoic presence, they suspected, hid the faintest amusement at their antics.
Inside, servants busied themselves with unloading trunks and crates, arranging the belongings they had carried across provinces.
Meanwhile, Suyin had already begun readying herself to head toward the troubled village, determined to see firsthand what the Teng Zhi's presence had done. She was fastening her robe when a firm yet gentle hand rested on her shoulder.
She turned, startled for a heartbeat, before finding herself gazing into Qin Fuhua's eyes.
Today, he wasn't dressed in his formal, commanding attire—he wore the understated layers of a man blending in, as if for a simple outing.
Suyin's lips curved faintly. "Where are you going?" she asked, suspicion and curiosity mingling in her voice.
Qin Fuhua extended his hand toward her, his expression unreadable but warm.
"We've only just arrived," he said quietly, the weight of his voice carrying something unspoken. "Come. Let's go out."
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The bustling streets were just as Suyin remembered—alive with chatter, bright with lantern light, and filled with the mingling scents of street food and blooming flowers.
In the center of it all stood the great pink tree, its branches heavy with fluttering wooden panels, each etched with a wish and swaying gently in the breeze.
The soft clink of wood against wood was almost musical, a thousand whispered hopes meeting in the air.
Suyin's gaze lifted, following the swaying wishes until her eyes landed on the one she had hung on her first day here—high above the rest, catching the light like it was reaching for the heavens.
But it wasn't alone anymore.
Right beside it hung another panel—sleek, exquisite, carved from the highest-quality wood, its deep black surface edged with intricate gold detailing. It stood out against the pale pink petals, elegant and unmistakable.
Suyin's lips curved as she glanced at the man beside her. A laugh escaped before she could stop it.
"Hm?" Qin Fuhua turned, his brow arching slightly. "What are you laughing at?"
"I thought you wouldn't be the type to do something like this." Her tone was playful as she lifted a hand to point upward. "But… can you make it any more obvious?"
Her laughter carried over the crowd, warm and teasing.
Qin Fuhua followed her gaze, the corners of his mouth curling into the faintest smile. The look in his eyes was quiet, but it said everything—that he had led her here on purpose, that the placement of his wish beside hers was no accident.
For a moment, the world seemed to slow, the sounds of the street fading into the soft rustle of petals above them. And standing there beneath the great pink tree, Suyin realized he hadn't just put his wish beside hers.
He had made sure it would always be there.
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Despite being the kind of man who preferred to stay far from public festivities, Qin Fuhua had retraced his steps through the lively town on the day Han Suyin went missing (when Suyin had fallen in the waters and everyone thought she was dead). Every street, every corner—he scanned them all, hoping he might catch sight of her.
That was when he overheard a conversation. An older woman was speaking to a child, her tone amused but incredulous.
"They say some strange lady climbed all the way up the pink tree to hang her wish," the woman said, shaking her head. "Like a wild monkey! Crazy, isn't it?"
The child giggled. "But she put it right at the top! Higher than anyone else!"
Qin Fuhua didn't need to wonder who they were talking about.
Later that night, when the town had grown quiet and the streets emptied, he stood beneath the towering pink tree. Lantern light flickered faintly in the distance, but here, the blossoms glowed pale in the moonlight, the wishes tied to the branches clinking together in the wind like whispered secrets.
With a silent leap, Qin Fuhua ascended into the branches, moving as easily as if he were crossing flat ground. The scent of petals grew stronger the higher he climbed, until finally, he reached the very top.
There it was—the highest-hung wooden panel, swaying gently in the night air. The carved name caught his eye, and a smirk tugged at his lips.
Qin Suyin.
He traced the characters with a fingertip, his voice low and amused.
"Why would this silly girl write her name like this?"
For a long moment, he stood there, the blossoms rustling softly around him. Then, almost without thinking, he knew what he would do.
That night, he crafted his own wish board—sleek black wood edged in gold, made from the finest material he could find. When it was finished, he returned to the tree and hung it right beside hers.
"So yours won't be lonely," he murmured into the quiet.
And under the moonlit blossoms, the two wishes swayed together, side by side.
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Qin Fuhua knew now, with absolute clarity, what it meant when she wasn't beside him. The days without her had been quiet in the wrong way—hollow, as though a part of him had been pulled away, leaving only the echo of her presence.
He held her hands tightly now, as if anchoring her to him, the faintest smile curving his lips.
"I used to think making wishes was childish," he said softly, his voice low enough that it felt meant for her alone. "But then you came into my life, and I realized it wasn't childish at all. You… gave me a reason to look forward to things like this. To see you smile."
Around them, the marketplace bustled with life—shopkeepers calling out their wares, the air rich with the scent of roasted chestnuts and candied fruits, the chatter of passersby rising and falling like waves. Yet, for him, the noise faded.
It felt as though time itself had stilled, and in that moment, it was only the two of them beneath the swaying pink blossoms and the gentle clink of wooden wishes overhead.
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[The village nearby Liaoping; A couple of hours later]
Qin Fuhua crouched, fingers brushing over the torn scrap of cloth the villager had handed him. It was coarse, faintly scorched, and smelled of smoke and ash. But what caught his eye wasn't the damage—it was the black-inked curve in the corner, the partial outline of a symbol.
"One of them was tearing apart my store," the man said, voice tight. "Not looking for food or coin—like they were searching for something. I grabbed at him to stop him and ripped his sleeve clean off."
After speaking to the man, Qin Fuhua requested to keep the cloth. The villager, seeing no use for a charred scrap, simply waved a hand.
"Take it. Better in your hands than gathering dust in mine."
The two stepped out into the open air, the cool wind carrying the scent of smoke from the still-smoldering ruins.
For a moment, they both scanned the street—villagers rebuilding, children darting between buckets of water, the charred skeletons of homes marking where the fire had bitten deepest.
Suyin's fingers brushed against Qin Fuhua's sleeve, a subtle tug pulling him toward a quieter corner between two standing walls.
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"The torn scrap…" she began, her eyes flicking briefly toward the bundle hidden in his sleeve. "It isn't just a clue. It's the same emblem I saw months ago—at the stronghold."
Qin Fuhua's gaze held hers, steady but intent. "You're certain?"
She nodded. "I'd know that curve anywhere. The golden lotus."
Qin Fuhua turned the torn scrap over in his hands, his eyes narrowing on the inked curve stitched into the corner. Even incomplete, he recognized the emblem immediately.
The golden lotus.
It wasn't just any crest—it was his father's personal pattern. The same mark that had once adorned ceremonial banners and the hilts of his father's private guard.
No soldier outside of that circle would dare wear it without his consent.
Suyin noticed the tension in his jaw.
"You know it," she said softly.
He nodded, tucking the cloth between his fingers.
"It's my father's." His voice was low, unreadable. "But how it ended up here—in the hands of the Teng Zhi—" He trailed off, the thought unfinished.
Suyin hesitated. "Does that mean… your father—"
"I don't know," Qin Fuhua cut in, his tone sharpening for a brief moment before softening again. "I don't know where he is. I don't know when this all began… or how long that thing on the throne has been wearing his face."
That truth was the one that gnawed at him most. The man the court called the Emperor wasn't his father.
Suyin had seen through the magical mask—seen a stranger's face hidden beneath. But what he didn't know was worse: when had the switch happened? Had it been months? Years? And where was his Father now?
If the golden lotus had reappeared here, after all this time, it could mean one of two things—his father had left it behind deliberately, or someone was using his crest for their own ends.
Either possibility made his grip on the cloth tighten. "If this is connected to him," Qin Fuhua said at last, "then it's a clue that we will have to figure out. And I'm not letting it slip away."