---
The soft creak of wood echoed as Lù Zhāo stepped into the modest home tucked at the edge of the capital. The air smelled of ink, clean linen, and jasmine tea.
Simple. Quiet. Safe.
Very unlike the palace.
Shèng Měi, still dressed in her training clothes, moved aside wordlessly and let the princess enter. She hadn't expected her to come that day—much less carrying her own bag.
No servants.
No guards.
Just Lù Zhāo. A girl tired of gilded cages.
"I… don't know what to call this," Lù Zhāo said softly, placing her bag near the door. "I just needed to leave. And this was the only place that came to mind."
Shèng Měi gently closed the door behind her. "You're always welcome here."
There was an awkward silence.
Lù Zhāo looked around—her eyes trailing over the tidy room. Books stacked unevenly, a polished sword hanging on the wall, mismatched tea cups on a bamboo tray.
Warm. Lived in.
"…I'll cook tonight," Shèng Měi offered, already moving toward the kitchen. "I don't know what you're used to, but I can make something simple."
"I'd like that," Lù Zhāo replied. "Simple sounds perfect."
---
That evening, the two sat at a low table, quietly eating stir-fried greens and steamed rice. No golden platters, no silver spoons. Just chopsticks and ceramic bowls.
Lù Zhāo chewed slowly, then looked up.
"You used to avoid me at court," she said with a faint smile.
Shèng Měi's hand paused mid-air. "I didn't avoid you. I just… kept my distance."
"Because I was a princess?"
"Because I was afraid."
Silence fell again.
Not uncomfortable. Just heavy with unspoken things.
"…Me too," Lù Zhāo finally whispered.
---
That night, they didn't sleep in the same room. Shèng Měi offered the bedroom and took the floor by the hearth with a blanket.
When Lù Zhāo hesitated, Shèng Měi smiled.
"I've slept on harder floors during patrol. This is luxury."
Lù Zhāo opened her mouth to protest—then stopped. She didn't want to force closeness. Not tonight. Not like this.
So she nodded.
And later, lying in bed beneath a simple cotton quilt, she stared at the ceiling and whispered into the darkness:
"…Thank you."
From outside the room, a quiet voice answered.
> "You don't need to thank me."
> "You've already given me more than you know."
---