The slam of the gate echoed through the stone garden, scattering birds from the treetops. Lili froze, her fingers slipping from Liu's grasp. The world around them shrank to a single corridor of fog and footsteps.
The figure at the pavilion's edge didn't move. Cloak heavy with morning dew, he stood with the patience of someone who had waited too long for this moment.
Liu stepped in front of Lili instinctively, shielding her with his body. His pulse roared in his ears, but his voice stayed steady.
"What do you want?"
The man said nothing. Instead, he raised his hand slowly, revealing an object glinting in the half-light: a sealed envelope, red wax pressed with the Jiāng family crest.
Lili stiffened behind him. Liu felt the tremor in her breath.
Without thinking, he reached back, his hand finding hers. She squeezed once—brief, decisive—before pulling free. She stepped forward, shoulders squared against the mist.
"This isn't your decision anymore," she said, voice low but unshaking.
The figure tilted his head slightly, studying her like a problem with only one acceptable solution. Then he placed the envelope carefully on the stone railing, turned without a word, and disappeared into the mist beyond the pavilion.
Only once the fog swallowed him whole did Lili's knees buckle. Liu caught her just before she hit the ground.
"It's okay," he murmured against her hair, though neither of them believed it.
Lili pushed herself upright. Her hands shook as she picked up the envelope. Liu could see the fine trembling along her jawline, the way she bit the inside of her cheek to stay calm.
"We have to go," she whispered. "Now."
"Where?" Liu asked, already falling into step beside her.
"Anywhere he can't reach."
They moved quickly, slipping through the side gardens, weaving between bamboo thickets and moon bridges. Every breath they took felt stolen, every footstep a defiance.
At the back gate, Lili paused, pressing the envelope against her chest. Her voice barely rose above the sound of their racing hearts.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?" Liu asked.
"For dragging you into my ghosts."
He smiled grimly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
"I walked into them with my eyes open."
For a moment, she searched his face, as if weighing whether she could believe in something so fragile, so easily shattered. Then she nodded and slipped through the open gate.
Liu followed without hesitation, into the uncertain morning, into a city that no longer felt like home.
Behind them, the sealed envelope lay forgotten on the stone bench, mist curling around it like a living thing.