The corridor outside the Jade Pavilion stretched like a breath held in silk—wood pillars carved with lotus blooms that seemed to unfurl in the slanting sunlight, their petals etched so fine they caught the light in a shimmer of gold and shadow.
Bamboo blinds swayed lazy along the walls, casting the floor in dappled patterns that danced like fish in a shallow stream.
The air hung still, scented with the faint smoke of morning incense from the halls beyond, and the distant hum of the palace waking—maids' footsteps soft on gravel, a gong tolling low like a heartbeat far off.
Gao-shun's boots tapped steady against the planks—tap... tap... tap...—each one measured, pulling him forward without hurry.
But his face betrayed the quiet storm inside. Calm as ever on the surface, but a tiny bead of sweat traced his temple.
He adjusted the incense box under his arm with a subtle shift. Simple task. Should have been quick. But the girl... Her wide eyes, the flute's echo in her words.
Ridiculous situation. A girl falling from nowhere, claiming mountains and strange sounds. Odd. Very odd.
He rounded the corner to the pavilion's canopy—silk banners in crimson and jade fluttering gentle in the breeze, embroidered phoenixes soaring mid-flight.
Attendants bowed as he approached—quick dips, heads low.
"Lord Jin-shi is waiting," one murmured.
Gao-shun nodded—brief—and stepped under the eaves, the shade falling cool on his shoulders.
Inside the Jade Pavilion, the air shifted thicker—incense heavy, mingling with the sharp tang of fresh ink and the subtle floral of Lady Gyokuyō's favourite blooms.
Lord Jin-shi sat at his desk, long hair cascading like spilled ink down his back. He signed documents with that bored grace of his—quill scratching elegant across rice paper.
Two eunuchs hovered at the edges, faces pale, hands clasped tight.
Jin-shi didn't look up as Gao-shun entered.
"Gao-shun," he said, voice smooth as polished jade. "You're late."
Gao-shun bowed deep, the incense box set careful at his feet.
"My apologies, Lord Jin-shi."
Jin-shi set the quill down and finally lifted his eyes. Golden, sharp as hidden needles.
"I only asked you to collect incense from the outer gate. What took this long? A dragon in the path? Or one of lady Gyokuyō's cats blocking the way?"
Gao-shun rose smooth, posture straight.
"A minor disturbance near the garden, my lord. But it has been handled. No threat remains."
Jin-shi's eyes narrowed.
"...Handled?"
He drew the word out, lazy drawl hiding the probe.
Gao-shun met the gaze—Gray to gold, unblinking.
"Yes, my lord."
Inside, the decision settled: If I tell him now, he'll worry. Let me hold the line first.
Jin-shi sighed—dramatic exhale, hand rubbing his temple.
"Fine. Just don't let it interfere with today's schedule. The empress's envoy arrives at noon."
Gao-shun bowed again—deeper this time.
"As you command."
He backed from the room—steps silent, door sliding shut behind him with a whisper.
The eunuchs exhaled in relief. Jin-shi's quill scratched on, but his mind wandered, golden eyes drifting to the window where cherry petals drifted lazy.
Handled. Gao-shun doesn't say that lightly.
CUT TO MOON'S SIDE
The old servant quarters felt like a bubble in the palace's rush—a small, paper-walled haven where the world outside hummed distant.
Moon sat cross-legged on the mat now, the wool blanket draped loose over her shoulders like a cape.
Hui-lan had stepped out moments ago—"Towels from the line, miss; call if you need"—leaving the room to her and the quiet.
Moon looked around, eyes soft. This place... why does it feel... familiar?
The beams overhead, curved just so. The way the light bent through the screen. Like I've seen it somewhere. Or dreamed it. Read it?
She stood slow—blanket slipping to the floor—and paced the small space, hands behind her back.
Okay, okay. I remember that mountain... that night... the wind whipping cold, the light swirling silver.
"AAAAAGH—this is insane," she burst out, arms flailing.
She stopped sudden, hands on knees, breath coming quick. Insane. Yeah. But... alive?
A small, silly smile crept in. Or maybe... because that day was my birthday... maybe this is like... a weird heavenly holiday bonus?!
The smile widened. She twirled once—robes floating light, sleeves billowing like wings.
"YES. Holiday. A god-gifted... magical... birthday vacation."
Laughter bubbled—half-mad, half-free—echoing off the paper walls.
The twirl slowed and she collapsed onto the mat with a thump, grin lingering, chest heaving happy.
The door slid open then—shh—Hui-lan stepping in with fresh towels.
"Miss... why are you rotating?" Hui-lan asked, voice a mix of fond baffle and stern grandmother.
Moon propped up on elbows—grin embarrassed, cheeks flushed.
"I'm celebrating my survival!"
Hui-lan sighed—hands on hips—but a chuckle escaped reluctant.
"...This is going to be a long day."
She shook her head, but her gaze held warm. "Eat if you can. Gaoshun-sama said rest, but spinning's not rest."
Moon sat up full—grinning wider.
"It's fine! I'm on vacation!"
Hui-lan huffed another laugh as the door slid shut. Moon flopped back, staring at the beams.
Vacation. Yeah. Let's go with that.
The flute's echo hummed faint in her ears, and for the first time, the unfamiliar felt a little like home.