The palace garden had always been a place of quiet beauty, but today it felt burdened — as if even the plum trees held their breath.
Ju Xian stood beneath a low branch, her fingertips grazing a single blossom.
It was full bloom. And yet, there was dust on it.
> "Even spring can forget to wash away winter," she murmured.
Taotao, perched on a stone ledge nearby, looked up from munching on a
stolen persimmon bun. "Or maybe the tree just got lazy."
She didn't respond. Her eyes were far away, fixed on the courtyard where
Sky's cage sat — guarded now by two imperial sentries. The bird was
watching her. Quiet, alert.
> "He looks older," she said softly. "He's tired."
> "He waited twenty years. Even you weren't that patient."
She turned toward him, brow furrowed.
> "I want to take him home."
> "Yeah, well, the empire wants to use him like a crown jewel."
> "Then maybe I'll steal him."
Taotao smirked. "Now that sounds like me."
Just then, a soft wind stirred the garden. Petals fell around them — pale pink
dancing like old memories.
A servant arrived, bowing low.
> "His Majesty requests your presence in the Morning Hall. The court is
assembled."
Ju Xian straightened her shoulders. She looked once more toward Sky, who
let out a quiet whistle.
> "We'll come back for you," she whispered.
As they walked toward the palace halls, dust still clung to her sleeve — and
to her soul.
It was the dust of grief, of past life, of unspoken goodbyes.
But under it, the plum blossoms still bloomed.