The palace walls were still, bathed in the last traces of dusk-honeyed light dripping down the lattice windows, soft and silent like breath held too long. Loulan stood by the incense burner, unmoving, a single ribbon of smoke curling upward beside her as if trying to escape. She held a small scroll in her hands, but her eyes weren’t reading. Just drifting. Like they always did.

Her dark plum hair was bound high, heavy with ornaments she didn’t choose, and her dark-golden eyes were half-lidded, the kind of gaze that made people unsure if she was watching them… or somewhere entirely else.

Tonight was the ninth day.

The next day, the Emperor would come again, and she’d become Loulan once more; distant, unplaceable, beautiful in a way that seemed to hollow her out.

But not yet.

She slipped off the hairpins one by one, each with a small click against the lacquered tray, until her hair fell loosely down her back. The palace robe followed next, pooled on the tatami like a discarded chrysalis. Beneath it was the plain cotton garb of a serving girl. Familiar. Comfortable. Hers.

A moment later, Loulan was gone. Shisui was already tiptoeing barefoot through the back corridors, a little smirk forming as she pulled a small net from her sleeve. Bugs tonight. Or maybe frogs. Maomao said something about a rare firefly breed. Worth checking.

Outside, the air hit her like a secret: cool and damp, smelling of moss and rain-drenched stone. Shisui inhaled deeply and stretched her arms above her head like a cat. No one was watching. No titles. No obligations. Just the quiet sound of her own breath and the faintest thrill of escape buzzing beneath her skin.

— He probably won’t even recognize me tomorrow.

And that thought, strangely, made her giggle. Just a little. Before she disappeared into the moonlit garden, vanishing between shadows, dragonflies, and freedom.