---
The sun had only just begun to rise when Shèng Měi opened the small wooden chest by the door and pulled out a basket.
"We're out of rice," she said, glancing back at Lù Zhāo, who was seated at the table sipping morning tea. "And the vendor who sells fresh soy milk only comes on Third Day."
Lù Zhāo raised an eyebrow. "Then we should go."
Shèng Měi hesitated. "We?"
"Yes," the former princess said as she stood, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ear. "I want to see your world."
Shèng Měi smiled softly, unsure if her heart was fluttering from the idea—or the way Lù Zhāo said your world.
---
The village market was alive with color and sound.
Children ran barefoot between vendor stalls, women bartered over woven fabrics, and the scent of roasted chestnuts wafted through the air.
As they walked side by side—Lù Zhāo in a borrowed indigo cloak, her hair braided plainly—the villagers turned to look.
Not with judgment. But with curiosity.
Most recognized Shèng Měi. She had trained in the nearby barracks for years. She was quiet, honorable, and distant.
But no one had ever seen her like this—walking close to someone, smiling softly at her side, occasionally brushing hands when they reached for the same fruit or shared a coin pouch.
And Lù Zhāo, even with her identity hidden, couldn't completely shake her regal air.
One older woman selling dumplings leaned over to whisper to her husband, "Who's that girl with Shèng Měi? She looks like a noble lady."
"Whoever she is," the husband replied, "our Měi finally looks… happy."
---
They spent the morning buying dried mushrooms, fresh herbs, a sweet red bean cake Lù Zhāo had never tried before, and a small clay pot to replace one that cracked the night before.
When they stopped at the tofu vendor, the old man smiled widely. "Haven't seen you with company before, Měi. You bringing home someone special?"
Shèng Měi stiffened.
Lù Zhāo, cheeks pink but lips curved in amusement, replied smoothly, "Maybe I am."
The old man laughed. "Lucky you. Měi's too serious for her own good."
Shèng Měi grumbled under her breath as they walked away, and Lù Zhāo leaned in.
> "You're blushing."
> "I'm not."
> "You are."
> "You're enjoying this too much."
> "A little," Lù Zhāo said, smiling.
---
They returned home before noon, arms full of food and quiet laughter still in the air.
And as they unpacked the goods onto the kitchen shelves, Shèng Měi paused for a moment and looked at her.
"You fit here," she said quietly.
Lù Zhāo turned. "Hmm?"
"You in this house. In this town. You… belong."
Lù Zhāo's chest fluttered—not from the compliment, but from how sincere it sounded.
She stepped closer, their hands brushing again as they reached for the same teacup.
"…Maybe I was always meant to find this place," she whispered.
And this time, neither of them pulled away.
---