The West Residence had not seen life in decades.
Years of neglect had caused its roof tiles to sag, and some were completely missing, showing warped and rotted joists. Moss grew along the pillars like green fingers, crawling over long-split stone gaps. The air was thick with mildew and the dry, tenacious odour of dust that had accumulated in every nook. It reeked of abandonment and unfulfilled promises. DongZe had plainly chosen this location to break her spirit, to isolate her in stillness and darkness.
XiaoQi, however, did not flinch. She stepped into the courtyard, boots crunching against the scattered debris of broken roof tiles and fallen leaves. Her chest lifted, her hands planted firmly on her hips, and a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"This will do," she said, her voice bright and unshakable, slicing through the gloom.
Bai Hu, her fox spirit, circled her ankles, tail twitching. He sneezed loudly at a thick web stretching across a stone balustrade. The sound made XiaoQi laugh, a clear, ringing note that felt almost rebellious in the quiet ruin.
A pair of sparrow spirits fluttered down, perching on the cracked stone lantern at the courtyard's centre, their tiny feathers catching the weak light. Above them, the lantern-winged sprite zipped in playful arcs, glowing brighter with each loop. It hovered in front of her, its tiny hands clasped as though in greeting.
"Looks like the neighbours are friendly enough," XiaoQi said, crouching to inspect a patch of moss. Her fingers brushed against the damp green growth, and she felt a surprising softness. "Not too shabby."
Bai Hu let out a small growl, inspecting a shadow where a cracked door hung on one hinge. XiaoQi followed his gaze. The doorway led into the main hall, dark and hollow, but the scent of old wood and stone felt familiar in a strange way.
"You think it's haunted?" she teased, nudging the door with her foot. Dust motes danced like tiny stars in the slivers of sunlight that peeked through the broken windows.
The sparrows chirped in what seemed like laughter. Bai Hu's ears twitched, and he barked once, sharp and warning. XiaoQi grinned wider. "Haunted, abandoned, or forgotten... it doesn't matter. We'll make it ours."
She pulled the door open farther and stepped into the hallway. Her boots rang against the cracked floor, each one sounding like a rhythm of determination. Shadows clung to the corners, yet the air no longer felt oppressive, but rather challenging. She imagined the walls coming alive with the warmth of lights, the murmur of spirits, and the gentle brush of her friends' presence.
Bai Hu padded after her, tail flicking. The sparrow spirits darted through the broken windows, filling the air with cheerful chirps. XiaoQi's chest swelled with a quiet joy, a stubborn defiance that clung to her even as she felt the weight of the residence's history pressing against her.
"The prince might have thought this would break me," she muttered to herself, almost under her breath. "But he forgot one thing."
She lifted her chin and let her voice carry through the hall. "I don't break."
A faint breeze stirred, rustling through the broken roof tiles, carrying with it the promise of change. The West Residence smelled of dust and decay, but now, beneath it all, XiaoQi imagined the scent of life returning: candle smoke, ink, the faint sweetness of flowers in a vase.
"This is the Wildcat's Den now," she said, grinning at Bai Hu, who barked in agreement. "And we're going to make it purr."
By afternoon, chaos reigned, but of the domestic kind.
The West Residence had transformed into a riot of activity. Smoke curled lazily from a makeshift hearth where a cauldron bubbled with a healing brew made from herbs XiaoQi had smuggled in. Its fragrant steam mingled with the earthy scent of overturned soil and the faint tang of smoke from chopped wood. Broken furniture, once forgotten relics of decay, had been dragged into the courtyard and hacked apart for firewood, splinters flying with every swing of her axe.
Chickens, liberated from the palace coops with more than a little help from the spirits, strutted freely across the garden, pecking at the ground with industrious clucks. A goat, more stubborn than XiaoQi expected, bleated and twisted, trying to escape the pen she had fashioned from fallen branches. She laughed, breath coming in short bursts as she wrestled it into place, sleeves damp with sweat.
One poor palace guard had dared peek through the gate and nearly fainted at the sight. XiaoQi, hair tied back in a messy braid, boots muddied, arms flexed from labour, looked far too pleased as she secured the goat with a flourish. Her grin, wide and unapologetic, made the guard stumble backward in shock, muttering something about curses under his breath before retreating hastily.
Word travelled fast. The gossip spread like wildfire through the palace halls and gardens.
"She looks like a farmer, not a lady," whispered a maid, her nose wrinkled in disapproval.
"Did you hear she's growing vegetables in the Crown Prince's abandoned estate?" another whispered.
"She talks to invisible companions. Surely she is cursed," muttered an older servant, shaking her head as if the very idea left her shivering.
DongZe moved quietly through the outer hall, his boots barely touching the cold stone floor. He had expected silence or perhaps muttered complaints, the kind of whispered scorn that fades like smoke. Instead, he found voices brimming with scandal and amusement. The concubines chattered like magpies, faces half scandalized, half entertained.
Concubine Lian, sharp-tongued and perpetually resentful, sniffed into her sleeve, eyes narrowing as she observed from a distance. "Imagine, our future Crown Princess raising chickens like a commoner. How shameful. How beneath the crown."
DongZe said nothing. His jaw clenched tightly. He had expected her to cry, to plead, to cower beneath the weight of her fate.
Instead, she laughed when the goat finally yielded to her strength. She wiped her hands on her skirts, straightened, and glanced around as if surveying her little kingdom, a satisfied grin lighting her face.
A chicken pecked at her slipper. She glanced down, flicked it gently with her toe, and chuckled. "Bai Hu, feed the little ones properly," she instructed, and the fox obediently nudged a few stray chicks toward the scattered grains.
***
That evening, DongZe strode into the West Residence without warning, his steps crisp and commanding against the cracked stones. His expression was a mask of icy authority, already prepared to deliver a cutting remark. He had imagined her in despair, perhaps curled on the floor of her chambers, her spirit broken as intended.
What he found instead made him falter.
XiaoQi was crouched in the dirt of the courtyard, skirts tucked inelegantly beneath her, hair tied into a hasty knot that sagged against her neck. She was feeding scraps of vegetables to the chickens, humming a tune so painfully off-key that even the sparrow spirits tilted their heads in confusion. A goat nibbled at her sleeve, undeterred by her absentminded shooing.
She looked up at his shadow stretching long across the ground. For the briefest moment, her eyes widened in surprise. Then, with a grin as mischievous as a fox's, she rose to her feet.
"Well, well. The Crown Prince honours my humble farmstead." She swept an exaggerated bow, her tone dripping with mock grandeur. "Careful, Your Highness. Watch your step, or you might land in chicken droppings."
One hen clucked loudly as if to punctuate her words.
DongZe's eye twitched, the composure of his carefully honed mask straining. He glanced down at the dirt-streaked courtyard and the scattered feathers with visible distaste. "This place was meant to teach you humility, not..." His hand lifted in a vague, dismissive gesture that landed on the goat now chewing on a discarded scroll. His lips pressed thin. "...not this lunacy."
XiaoQi dusted her hands on her tunic and stretched, utterly unbothered. "On the contrary. I have never felt freer. No courtiers lurking behind pillars, no endless rules whispered in my ear. Just me, and my beasts." She reached down, scratched Bai Hu behind the ears, and the fox spirit yipped happily, as though in agreement.
Her defiance struck him like a spark against dry tinder. Something dangerously close to amusement stirred beneath the ice he wore so carefully. For an instant, he almost allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch upward. He buried it at once beneath a cold sneer.
"You mistake tolerance for mercy," he said, voice flat and hard. "Do not think this... act... will endear you to me."
XiaoQi's laughter spilled out, low and musical, more genuine than mocking. She stepped forward, closing the space between them until only a breath separated their faces. The faint scent of herbs and smoke clung to her skin. Her eyes gleamed with mischief, but beneath it, there was steel.
"Endear me to you?" she murmured. "Oh heavens, no. That would be the last of my desires."
The words cut sharper than a blade, yet her lips curved upward, teasing at him.
The distance between them shrank until their faces were inches apart. Her breath carried the faint scent of herbs and smoke; his carried steel and frost. The air thickened, taut as a bowstring. Neither moved, neither spoke, yet the silence crackled with something unspoken, sharp and electric.
DongZe's gaze betrayed him. For a fleeting moment, it dipped to her lips. The realization struck him, and he turned abruptly, cape swirling behind him like a shield. His voice was clipped, cold, as though to sever the thread that had bound them in that instant.
"Control your wild beasts," he said without looking back. "If they interfere with palace guards again, I will have them hunted."
XiaoQi's smirk vanished. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, eyes narrowing until they gleamed like polished obsidian. "Touch them," she said, her tone low and fierce, "and you will find this wildcat has claws."
The words rang through the ruined hall, not loud but sharp enough to pierce through the silence like steel against stone.
DongZe paused at the doorway. He did not turn, but his shoulders stiffened, as though her defiance had sunk deeper than he intended to let on. The words lingered, burning, long after he stepped into the night.
Behind him, XiaoQi exhaled, shoulders relaxing. She glanced at Bai Hu, who had risen with fur bristling, and stroked his head until he settled. "Don't worry," she whispered, her grin returning, though softer now. "This wildcat won't let anyone clip our wings."
The fox's golden eyes glowed in agreement, and the courtyard settled once more into the hum of life.
The night air outside the West Residence was cool, carrying the faint fragrance of jasmine from the palace gardens. DongZe walked with measured steps, his cape trailing behind him, boots striking the flagstones in a rhythm as steady as a war drum. His face was carved into its usual mask of stone, but beneath it his thoughts churned.
He should not have lingered. He should not have gone inside at all.
He had expected to find her broken, humbled, stripped of her spirit. That was why he had come. To witness the lesson sink in, to see her pride finally bend. But instead...
DongZe's hand flexed at his side, the ghost of her words still clinging to him. This wildcat has claws.
Her voice had been sharp, but not shrill. Fierce, yet steady. It had cut through him in a way no plea or cry for mercy ever could.
And worse—far worse—was the image of her that now refused to leave his mind. Her hair a mess, her tunic smudged with dirt, eyes gleaming with mischief as she defied him without hesitation. Her laughter, bright and unrestrained, echoing against the crumbling walls. Her lips curved into a grin that made her look alive, untamed and untouchable.
His jaw tightened. He had looked at those lips. Even if for a moment, even if against his will, his gaze had betrayed him.
DongZe stopped beneath the shadow of a pavilion, lifting his face toward the moonlight as if the cold glow might scour the thought from him. He closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath. The palace air was supposed to be clean, refined, ordered. Yet he still smelled faint traces of smoke and earth on his sleeves, as though her wildness clung to him.
Unacceptable.
He pressed the thought down, deep into the pit where unwanted things belonged. She was unruly, reckless, a disruption to everything he valued. And yet, when she had stood before him, defiance blazing in her eyes, he had felt something shift. Something he had not felt in years.
Attraction.
It was not tender, nor was it gentle. It was dangerous, a pull as sharp as it was unwelcome.
DongZe exhaled sharply, his breath misting in the night. His fingers curled into fists within his sleeves. I will not indulge it.
From the colonnade nearby came the flutter of silk and a whisper of voices. Concubines passing by, their laughter soft as bells. DongZe straightened instantly, face hardening into an impassive mask. Their steps faltered when they saw him, and they bowed low, heads bent, fans trembling in their hands. He did not glance at them, did not slow his stride.
But once he had passed and their whispers resumed behind him, he knew with certainty where the gossip would spread next. XiaoQi had become the talk of the court in less than a day, and his silence had already given the rumour strength. Some would mock her. Others would secretly admire her boldness.
And he... he should despise it. He should despise her.
DongZe quickened his pace, cape snapping behind him. Yet no matter how fast he walked, the sound of her laughter clung to him still, light and irreverent, echoing through the corridors of his mind.
Inside the safety of his chambers, with only the flicker of lamplight for company, he removed his crown and robes with stiff movements. His reflection in the polished bronze mirror stared back at him, sharp-eyed, severe. But even in his own gaze, he thought he saw the faintest ghost of the look he had given her—when his eyes had betrayed him, flicking down to her lips.
His hand hovered briefly at his mouth, then dropped.
"No," he said aloud, voice low and final.
The word echoed in the chamber, but it sounded thin against the silence.
He poured himself wine, the bitter taste sharp on his tongue, hoping it would wash her from his thoughts. It did not.
And when he finally lay in bed, eyes closed, it was not the quiet dignity of the palace that lingered in his mind, but the image of a girl laughing in the ruins, standing tall with chickens at her feet and fire in her gaze.
DongZe turned onto his side and forced his breathing to slow.
She was a nuisance. A distraction. Nothing more.
***
That night, the West Residence glowed with the faint warmth of firelight. The cauldron had long since cooled, the chickens nestled in makeshift coops, and the goat—after a stubborn struggle—was tied contentedly near the garden wall. The courtyard smelled faintly of ash, hay, and damp earth.
XiaoQi sat cross-legged on the cracked stone steps, arms resting on her knees. Her fox spirit, Bai Hu, dozed at her side, his tail curled neatly around her ankles. The sparrow spirits perched on the branches of a dead tree, feathers fluffed against the night air. The lantern-winged sprite drifted lazily overhead, casting a soft glow that turned the ruins almost gentle.
She let out a long sigh. Her grin had faded hours ago, leaving her shoulders heavy.
"Well," she murmured, plucking at the frayed hem of her sleeve, "that could have gone better."
Bai Hu cracked one golden eye, yawned, and then nestled closer.
XiaoQi tilted her head back to stare at the broken roofline, where the stars peered through in scattered diamonds. Her lips pressed together. "I should have held my tongue. But then again..." She laughed softly, though it lacked the mischief from before. "He looked like he'd swallowed a lemon when I called myself a wildcat. Worth it."
The sparrows chirped, as if agreeing.
Her smile slipped again as she pulled her knees tighter against her chest, chin resting on them. The echo of DongZe's sneer still lingered in her ears. His words had been cold, sharp enough to wound if she let them.
She reached down, fingers brushing Bai Hu's fur. "He would not really hurt you... would he?" Her voice trembled despite her attempt at lightness.
Bai Hu pressed his head against her palm, a silent reassurance.
XiaoQi exhaled slowly, eyes stinging. She blinked hard, refusing to let tears fall. "I will not cry," she whispered fiercely. "Not here. Not where he wants me to break."
Her spirits rustled around her, creating a soft circle of warmth. The lantern sprite descended low, caressing her cheek with its warm glow, as if to ward off the chill.
"Thank you," XiaoQi replied quietly, her voice more stable now. "Without you, this place would resemble a grave. "But with you..." She looked about at the crumbling walls, patched courtyard, and tiny signs of life returning. "With you, it feels almost like home."
For a while, she sat in silence, listening to the crickets singing in the overgrown grass.
But even as she tried to calm her heart, her mind betrayed her with a memory she had not meant to keep: the way DongZe's eyes had lingered on her, just for a heartbeat too long. She had seen it. She was certain of it.
Her cheeks warmed in the dark. "Ridiculous," she muttered, shaking her head. "Why would someone like him ever..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
XiaoQi buried her face in her arms with a groan. "Ugh, stop it. You do not need the Crown Prince's favour. You do not want it."
The sparrows rustled their wings, almost as if they were laughing.
"Don't start," she muttered, shoving to her feet. "Tomorrow we're planting vegetables, and that's final."