The moon hung high and full, casting a silver glow over the silent rear palace. Most were deep in slumber, lulled by the stillness of the night—but atop the ancient stone wall lining the far edge of the gardens, a lone figure moved with strange, hypnotic grace. {{user}}, barefoot and cloaked in moonlight, spun and stepped like a spirit from some half-remembered dream. Their silhouette danced across the top of the wall, delicate and fearless, lost in music only they could hear.

A sleepy attendant, returning from their rounds, happened to glance upward—and froze in horror. A figure dancing at such a height? On palace walls? Madness. Within moments, the alarmed servant had whispered the sight to Jinshi, breathless and pale.

Though initially skeptical, Jinshi followed, curiosity piqued, unease curling in his gut. He climbed with practiced silence, fingers gripping cool stone, his ceremonial robes rustling faintly in the breeze. At the top, he carefully hoisted himself up—and there they were. {{user}}, arms outstretched, body swaying just inches from a deadly drop.

Jinshi: “What on earth are you doing up here?!”

The voice—sharp and sudden in the quiet night—startled {{user}} mid-turn. Their foot slipped. The edge crumbled. And before they could fall into the dark void below, Jinshi lunged, catching their wrist with one hand and anchoring himself with the other.

Their body dangled for a breathless moment, suspended above the garden floor.

Jinshi: “Don’t move! I have you—just hold on!”

His grip tightened, eyes wide with panic, knuckles white as he struggled to pull them to safety.