The night crept through the cracks of the stone ceiling, draping Jin's cell in cold silence.
He lay flat on the hard floor, one arm under his head, the other twirling a lock of his dark hair lazily. His eyes traced the uneven ceiling stones as though they held answers he could not find.
His thoughts, however, were far from the prison.
Ruan.
Was she safe? Was she also locked alone in a cold, empty space like this? Were the guards treating her cruelly? The thought of the girl curled in fear, her stubborn spirit dampened by stone walls, made his chest tighten. He had dragged her into this. He had gambled too freely.
He blew out a sigh and rolled over. "Tch. This is boring. No one to talk to, no one to tease… not even someone to scold me."
After a moment, he sat up and crossed his legs. Then, with a dramatic clear of his throat, he began to hum. The tune came first, a half-remembered melody tugged out of the fog of his mind. And then he started making up words, careless and playful:
🎵
"In a cage made of stone, the fool makes his throne,
The walls don't listen, but I still moan.
Give me wine, give me meat, give me stars to greet,
Not this hole, not this floor, not these chains on my feet!
Oh little bird, little bird, fly away fast,
Tell the world their trouble won't last.
For the fool will dance, and the fool will sing,
And one day the fool will be a king—
…But not a martial one, no, too much work that brings!"
🎵
His voice echoed down the corridor, half tuneful, half mocking. The guards outside groaned at the noise, but Jin only laughed at himself, humming the rest until his eyes fluttered shut.
Sleep took him.
The Dream
When he opened them again, he was not in the cell.
The field stretched wide before him, soft and endless, swaying under a lazy summer breeze. A great tree shaded the hill, its branches heavy with leaves. Beneath it, two figures sat together.
Jin's breath caught.
It was himself.
And beside him—her. The girl with the white hair. The girl whose face his memory still denied him, but whose presence burned brighter than anything else. Her, Mei Lanyue.
He stood as an observer, watching his other self laugh and lean against the trunk, while the girl teased him with words that only lovers dared to share.
"Why is it," Memory-Jin said with a sly grin, "that you're prettier every time I see you? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Don't flowers fade if you pluck them too often?"
Mei Lanyue laughed softly, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"And why is it," she countered, "that you say such foolish things, even when you're supposed to be the serious one?"
They both laughed, the sound light as windchimes.
But then the laughter faded, and her eyes grew uncertain.
"You know this can't last," she whispered. "You're not like me. I'm just a commoner… and you…"
He leaned closer, brushing her hand with his fingers. "And I chose you. Out of princesses, out of nobles, out of all the perfect smiles and perfect manners—I chose you."
The girl looked down, flustered. "Why?"
"Because you're real." He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. "And because, in all my life, you're the only one who makes me want to laugh like a fool."
The observing Jin clenched his fists. Even if he couldn't see her face, he knew. She was beautiful—more beautiful than any noble woman could ever dream to be. The ache in his chest was unbearable.
The memory moved on.
The girl asked about his family, about the fiancée his parents must surely have chosen. Memory-Jin hissed and waved it off. "Rules. Nothing but chains. Let them rot with their expectations."
Her eyes widened. "…Then what do you want?"
Before he could answer, he suddenly smirked.
"Oh, me and my friends, we're chasing something ridiculous. The 'Martial King.'"
"The Martial King?" she echoed. "Isn't that just a myth? A title for the strongest warrior?"
"Of course it is," he laughed. "A title to scare children. The strongest man alive—bah! Nonsense. Just something the empires like to wave around."
She leaned against him, teasing, "But aren't you the strongest? Should I start calling you my king?"
He grinned. "Only if you'll be my queen."
They burst into laughter, tumbling against the roots of the tree, lost in each other's presence.
And just before the dream dissolved, the girl turned, lips parting as though to call his full name—
Waking
Jin jolted awake.
"Oi. Oi oi oi!"
Something small tapped at his cheek.
He blinked blearily—and his heart leapt.
"Xiǎoyè!"
The little cat stood there, tail flicking, eyes gleaming in the dim torchlight. Jin scooped him up instantly, laughing with sudden joy. "You survived, you little demon! I thought you got turned into soup!"
Xiǎoyè purred, but the moment was short-lived. Jin's face twisted, and he half-sobbed, half-growled. "Why… why did you wake me?! I was dreaming of her! Her, you little furball! And now it's gone!"
He dropped to his knees, shaking the cat gently, arms wide as if comparing the vast gulf between dream and reality. "Do you understand the difference? There—love, beauty, peace! Here—rats, stone, and your smelly fur!"
Xiǎoyè meowed, entirely unbothered.
Jin sighed heavily, then pressed his forehead against the cat's. "Still… I missed you." His arms tightened. "Don't disappear again, alright?"
He didn't question how the creature had gotten in. He didn't care. For now, this much was enough.
But one thought nagged at him.
"…Wait. Where's that damned horse?"
Outside
The answer stood just beyond the building.
The horse was tied by one hind leg to a massive boulder, courtesy of a devilishly satisfied cat. It stared into the night, deadpan expression unwavering.
Why… why is this my life?
It tugged once at the rock. The knot didn't budge.
It sighed through its nostrils, a long suffering breath. Things had been simpler when it was just itself, the girl, and the fool.
Now? Now it was tethered, cursed by the whims of a cat and the madness of its so-called master.
And so, under the indifferent stars, the noble horse wept silently.