For the first time in weeks, Jiang Yue woke up without the shrill sound of her alarm. The soft morning sun filtered through her childhood bedroom curtains, casting pale stripes of gold across the room. She blinked slowly, as if her body itself was in disbelief that it could rest.
The kidnapping. The fire. The endless headlines. Her body was intact, but her soul was raw and frayed.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and inhaled deeply. It smelled faintly of old wood and freshly brewed tea and the comforting scents of home. Her mother was humming downstairs, her father's laughter echoed from the veranda. For once, Jiang Yue wasn't Jiang Yue the famous poet, or Ruelle Yin trapped inside this novel's world. She was just a daughter, a sister, a girl who wanted a day where the world wasn't plotting to kill her.
She padded barefoot to the living room. The living room of her family house smelled faintly of roasted groundnuts and the hibiscus her mother kept drying in wicker trays near the window. Jiang Yue sat curled into the sofa, her head resting on her mother's lap like she was fifteen again. For once, she allowed herself the indulgence of closing her eyes and simply breathing. Her mother's soft hum of an old folk song carried like a lullaby, weaving safety around her battered heart.
Her father shuffled in, pretending to frown but his gaze lingering just a little longer on her bandaged wrist. "You should've called me earlier. I only hear about my daughter nearly getting killed after the act? Am I just decoration in this house?"
Jiang Yue smiled faintly. "If I had called, you'd have marched down there yourself and probably gotten into more trouble than me."
Before he could retort, the door burst open.
"Jie!"
Her brother's familiar voice cracked with both anger and relief. Ruhan barreled inside, dropping his backpack unceremoniously and immediately pulling her into a tight hug. "You, you idiot! Why didn't you tell me yourself?! Do you know how scared I was when I heard?"
Jiang Yue's chest tightened, but she forced a playful smile. "I was busy being kidnapped. My schedule was kind of full."
Ruhan pulled back, his jaw tightening. "Not funny." But his eyes betrayed the glint of unshed tears. He ruffled her hair roughly, then sat down beside her, pressing his shoulder against hers like he used to when they were children.
It was peaceful. For a brief time, she forgot she was Jiang Yue in someone else's story, a poet caught between fate and misfortune. For now, she was just a daughter,and sister, loved.
Her mother gasped softly, setting down her teacup.
"Yue'er, you've gotten thinner. Come, sit and eat."
The peace didn't last long.
Her phone buzzed furiously on the coffee table. At first, she ignored it, not wanting the outside world to breach this fragile sanctuary. But Ruhan picked it up and frowned. "Your friend Tessa is livestreaming… and she's dragging someone hard."
And Tessa messaged her again
[Tessa]: Turn on your laptop. Now. You're going to want to see this.
Jiang Yue frowned. Tessa, her best friend and literary partner-in-crime, never messaged her so urgently unless it was serious. She excused herself to her old bedroom, booted up her laptop, and clicked the link Tessa had sent.
Her breath left her body.
On the screen was a newly released poetry book by a "rising poet" named Lin Qiao. The title was pretentious, the cover gaudy, but the words inside?
They were hers. Word for word, verse for verse, her unpublished poem that she had left only in her drafts.