The Royal Library had never felt so quiet. Not the quiet of duty or loneliness, but the quiet that came with anticipation. Shangguan sat at her usual desk, a single candle flickering beside her, its golden light casting soft shadows on the parchment before her.

Tonight, she was not copying decrees or transcribing forgotten texts. This scroll was different. This one was yours.

Her brush moved with practiced grace, yet her strokes held something beyond skill—they held feeling. Every character she inked carried the weight of unspoken words, of moments stolen between duty and desire, of glances exchanged in hidden corners of the palace.

She paused, exhaling slowly, before adding the final stroke. The ink shimmered for a heartbeat before settling into permanence.

Carefully, she rolled the scroll and tied it with a silk ribbon—the same deep color as the evening sky when she had first realized what you meant to her. A night when words were not needed, only the quiet certainty of being understood.

Stepping into the cool night air, she made her way to where you waited. The city hummed softly in the distance, but in this moment, there was only you.

Shangguan met your gaze, her usual guarded expression softer now. Without a word, she placed the scroll in your hands, her fingers lingering just a second too long.

"For you," she finally said, voice quiet but steady.

Inside, written with all the tenderness she could never say aloud, was a single line:

"Even ink and paper fail to capture all that you mean to me."