The season was turning. The air grew softer, carrying the fragrance of blossoms from the valley, and the market stalls brimmed with colours that had not been there before. Shen Qiyao walked his usual path, coins light in his pouch, yet his steps felt different — as if the days of tending and waiting had led him to this moment.
Among the noise of trade and the hum of voices, a single sight caught him still. White lilies, fresh and bright, their petals curved like moonlight made into bloom.
For the first time in many days, his heart gave a quiet stir.