Morning mist still veiled the palace skies of the Feather Court.
Su Sheng lay on the silk-laced bedding, eyes open. Sleep had never come.
Rong Yu never returned. And she no longer knew what she was.
A queen? A captive?A bird in a golden cage?
She slipped out of bed, wrapped a robe over her shoulders, and opened the door. The winged attendant outside had dozed off and didn't notice her leave.
She wandered through silent corridors, her feet instinctively carrying her back to the forest—the same place where it had all begun.
The old hunting grounds.
Where she had loosed an arrow at the golden beast.
She wasn't trying to escape. Not really. She just needed air. Distance. Clarity. She needed to know if that arrow had ever truly struck him…or if it had simply marked her as his.
She stepped between the trees, and a sharp whistle echoed from the shadows.
"Well, well. Told you you'd show."
The voice was light, lazy, laced with amusement—and a distinct capital accent she hadn't heard in years.
She froze, looking up sharply.
A young man lounged across a tree branch, clad in a short cloak of dusky green feathers. One leg dangled over the side, his white boots dusted with dew. He spun a golden whistle between his fingers, a blade of grass in his mouth.
He was smiling, lips curled with rakish ease.
Though one eye was covered by a pale golden bandage, it did little to hide the fine lines of his face—clean, fox-sharp, and warm like a spring breeze brushed with mischief. His long brows swept to his temples, and beneath that careless posture lay a beauty both refined and untamed.
He was elegance dipped in danger.A playful prince of wind.
"Que Jiu…?" she breathed.
He winked. "Still as sharp, little archer. Thought that golden bird might've stolen you for good—glad to see you're still breathing."
Before she could reply, he leapt down from the branch with the silent grace of a swallow. His boots touched the earth as if he belonged more to the wind than the ground.
Su Sheng instinctively stepped back, fingers brushing the hidden dart in her sleeve.
He raised both hands in mock surrender, smile never leaving his lips. "Whoa there. I didn't come to fight. Just here to say hi. Catch up with an old friend."
He took a step closer, eyes narrowing slightly. "So, how's the golden palace treating you? That beast… been too rough?"
She remained silent.
A flicker of sly amusement crossed Que Jiu's gaze. "Not talking? That bad, huh."
Then suddenly, he leaned forward and sniffed her collar lightly.
She stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"Smells like him," he muttered, straightening. "Should've known. You never could hide your heart."
She steadied her breath. "What are you doing here, Que Jiu? Why now?"
He twirled the whistle again, carelessly. "After the Feather Assembly, I dropped by. Rong Yu didn't stop me—guess he still thinks of me as his left wing. I've followed him for years. Technically, I don't need an invite."
"You're… his Left Wing?" she asked, startled.
"Surprised?" Que Jiu chuckled. "Left Wing, Right Wing—human folk call it 'right-hand man.' I'm just a swift bird. But I know the palace better than most. If Rong Yu wants to raise hell, he still needs my nod."
His gaze darkened, subtle but unmistakable.
"But today, I didn't come for him."
He took another step forward, and in one swift motion, his hand wrapped around her wrist.
The grip was warm. Firm. And just a little too familiar.
"Come with me, little archer. You don't belong to that golden beast."
She tried to pull away. "I stayed because I have a reason."
"I know," he said softly. "You're looking into your master's death."
Her breath caught. "You—how do you know that?"
"I know more than you think," Que Jiu said, his tone quieter now, more grounded. "I can help. But if you're caged in there, you won't find a damn thing."
"I didn't come to take you," he added, "just to warn you—don't trust him so easily. That golden eagle's never been a gentle bird."
Su Sheng stared at him.
She had never seen Que Jiu this serious.
She asked quietly, "What is it you really came to do?"
He smiled, tousled her hair with maddening ease. "Play."
"Fight a few people. Stir a few feathers. And maybe… test you too."
"To see if you're as cold as you think you are."
She turned to leave.
"Thank you," she murmured. "I know you're trying to help."
He didn't answer. Just watched her back as she disappeared into the misty woods.
And under his breath, almost like a curse:
"Su Sheng… you'd better not make me serious."