The gardens were quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that came after the storm, not before — as if the earth itself held its breath.
Cherry blossoms drifted through the evening air, landing gently on the stones beneath the lantern light. The koi pond shimmered silver under the moon, undisturbed save for the occasional flick of a tail beneath the surface.
And in the heart of the garden—
Zhao Yuran found her.
Xue Lian.
The Northern Blade.
The one who danced beside Hei Long in a way Yuran never had — and perhaps never would.
Xue Lian stood barefoot in the grass, her ash-gray robes rippling in the breeze. A simple hair ribbon tied her dark hair back. No ornaments. No illusion.
Just presence.
Yuran approached slowly, deliberate heels echoing across the stone path.
"Couldn't sleep?" she said flatly.
Xue Lian didn't turn around.
"I don't sleep much anymore," she replied. "Memories don't allow it."
