---
The palace gardens were quiet that afternoon, save for the soft rustle of peach blossoms and the idle hum of bees.
Lù Zhāo and Shèng Měi sat beneath the covered pavilion, sipping tea as sunlight flickered through the carved latticework.
A gentle breeze brushed through Lù Zhāo's long hair, and she tucked it behind her ear absentmindedly.
> "He's changed," she said.
Shèng Měi glanced up from her teacup. "Which one?"
Lù Zhāo's lips curled into a quiet smile.
> "Both."
They watched the courtyard below, where the Prince stood beside Lǐ Wú, speaking to one of the palace stewards. Their conversation couldn't be heard, but it didn't matter—the way they stood close, slightly angled toward each other, was loud enough.
> "Do you ever wonder," Lù Zhāo said softly, "how far we'd go for the people we love?"
> "I don't need to wonder," Shèng Měi replied with a gentle shrug. "I already know. I've watched him burn his honor to stay close to that man."
Lù Zhāo lowered her gaze. "And he still thinks he doesn't deserve to be loved."
> "Because he betrayed someone," Shèng Měi whispered. "And maybe he believes that makes him unworthy forever."
> "But the Prince…" Lù Zhāo glanced back at them. "He still looks at him like he's trying not to fall all over again."
Shèng Měi gave a sad smile.
> "Maybe he already has. Maybe he's just pretending not to."
There was a moment of silence between them.
Then Lù Zhāo turned, a bit more serious now. "Do you regret it?"
Shèng Měi blinked. "What?"
> "Bringing the Prince to my house. Locking him in the same room with your brother."
Shèng Měi laughed—soft and real.
> "I regret not doing it sooner."
They both giggled, leaning closer like old friends sharing a guilty secret.
> "You know," Lù Zhāo said after a pause, "if this ever ends badly, they'll blame us."
> "Let them," Shèng Měi replied. "As long as they don't waste this chance."
---
That evening, as the garden lights flickered to life and the sky turned rose-colored, Lù Zhāo brushed her fingers against Shèng Měi's hand beneath the table.
> "Thank you," she said quietly.
> "For what?"
> "For giving me a reason to stop pretending."
Their fingers intertwined.
And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt like they were watching someone else's story.
They were part of it