The Morning Hall was silent.
The kind of silence reserved for moments that mattered.
Emperor Zhao Wen sat tall on the dragon seat, robes flowing in deep garnet.
Around him, court ministers whispered behind silken fans, uncertain why
two strangers — a sarcastic rogue and a once-arrogant noble girl — stood in
the center of state affairs.
Then came the sound that silenced even the murmurs.
A low, musical whistle. Then another. Then…
> "Xian… Ren… home."
All heads turned.
At the far end of the chamber, a golden cage was carried in. Inside, Sky
fluttered once, his brilliant feathers dulled by age but his eyes sharp — and
wet.
The bird's voice trembled like a prayer rediscovered.
Ju Xian froze. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Taotao exhaled like he'd been punched in the chest.
> "He remembers us," she whispered.
Sky tilted his head and flapped his wings once, weakly — but with purpose.
> "Xian… Ren… home."
Emperor Zhao Wen rose slowly. The room watched as he descended the dais
and walked toward the cage.
He knelt beside it — the emperor, kneeling — and unlocked the golden door
with his own hands.
Sky didn't fly away.
He stepped out carefully, his claws shaky, and walked — walked — across
the polished floor toward Ju Xian.
She fell to her knees, arms open, and Sky pressed himself into her chest.
For a long time, no one spoke.
Taotao knelt beside her, brushing a hand over Sky's back.
> "You really waited for us… you little feathery fool."
Sky cooed, head pressed beneath Ju Xian's chin.
> "Xian… Ren… home."
Zhao Wen turned to the court.
> "Let it be known," he said clearly, "that Sky is no longer a relic. He is not
a symbol. He is family to the ones who built this kingdom with their blood."
> "He will leave with them. As he waited for them."
No one dared object.
Later that day, Ju Xian sat beneath the palace's largest plum tree, Sky
nestled in her lap.
He fell asleep quickly, his breathing soft and slow.
She leaned back and looked at the sky.
> "We're here," she whispered. "We came back. For you."
And above them, petals fell — like time rewinding, like promises finally kept.