Location: The road to Kunming, under a vast, star-dusted sky.
The silence that had settled between them after her answer in the inn room was not awkward, but heavy. It was a silence filled with unspoken things, a new and profound understanding that hummed in the air like a plucked string.
For days, they had walked. The frantic energy of the attack and its aftermath had faded, replaced by the familiar rhythm of their journey, but the rhythm itself had changed. It was slower, more thoughtful. Feng found his eyes drawn to her—not just to her, but to the space around her, as if seeing the aura of capability and lethal grace she carried. He watched the way her hand rested near the hilts of her swords, not with tension, but with a casual readiness that was now forever part of his image of her.
Tonight, they had stopped under a great, ancient tree, its branches a sprawling black lace against the indigo sky. A full moon, immense and luminous, hung overhead, bathing the world in a silver so bright it bleached the color from everything, leaving only light and shadow.
Lusi was organizing her pack. "After we reach Kunming," she said, her voice practical, breaking the comfortable quiet, "we will get a cart to the capital."
Feng, who was leaning against the rough bark of the tree, looked over. "No need. For what reason?"
"You are injured!" she said, turning to him with a frown that was more concern than scolding.
"It's just a little injury. I can walk now."
"Weren't you the one who was complaining all the way from Zhejiang?" she retorted, a faint smile touching her lips, recalling his princely grumbling about sore feet and dust.
"But I can walk now," he insisted, though his tone was soft.
She studied his face for a moment in the moonlight, then shrugged, conceding. "Hăo de. If you say so."
She sat down on the grass, folding her legs beneath her. Feng remained standing, his head tilted back. The moon was so clear, so close, he felt he could almost touch it.
"Wow," he breathed, the word leaving him in a sigh of pure wonder. "Today the moon is so beautiful."
Lusi looked up, following his gaze. "Yeah. Today is a full moon."
"I've never seen one like this before," he said, and it was the truth. He had seen a thousand full moons from palace balconies and through carriage windows. But he had never truly seen one. He had never had the silence, or the peace, or the company to just stop and look.
"Full moon comes every month," Lusi replied, her voice gentle, as if explaining something to a child.
"On the boat," Feng began, his voice low and thoughtful, still gazing at the sky, "you said when we fasten things, we often miss things." He finally looked down at her. "Maybe I was too focused on my goal... I missed all this. After being with you these days, I started to question myself. Is it really my goal? And why is it my goal?"
Lusi hugged her knees to her chest, listening. When he finished, she was silent for a moment, choosing her words with care.
"Your goal should be the same as your life purpose," she said, her voice clear in the still night. "Something that gives you happiness. Does your goal give you happiness when you think about it? Or will you only feel happy when you finally reach it?"
Feng considered the throne. The power, the isolation, the constant suspicion, the weight of a nation. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "Maybe not."
"Then it's not your purpose. It's just an obsession." Her words were not harsh, but matter-of-fact. "You want to reach your goal because you want to, but don't know why."
The diagnosis was so simple, so accurate, it felt like she had reached into his chest and pulled the truth out. "What is your goal?" he asked, turning fully to face her. "Do you have one?"
"I do have one," she said, and her face, lit by the moon, seemed to dream. She wasn't looking at him anymore, but at some distant point on the horizon, at a future only she could see. "I want to travel the world. By water, on a ship. With a travel buddy who would like to travel with me. Out of our kingdom, there will be many more other places where people will look different, dress different, eat different, talk different. I wanna see it all." Her eyes finally found his again, and she smiled, a warm, open smile. "And I know that it would make you happy for sure."
"You do have a broad point of view," Feng whispered, his heart aching with a strange, beautiful longing for the future she painted.
But Lusi didn't hear him. Her head had gently lolled to the side, resting against her knees. Her breathing had deepened into the slow, even rhythm of sleep. The day, the fight, the walking—it had finally claimed her.
Feng looked at her. The warrior, the physician, the philosopher. Now just a girl, asleep under the moon, trusting him enough to let her guard down completely in his presence.
Even though I would not do anything, he thought, a wave of protectiveness washing over him, how can you sleep so freely beside a man?
He didn't wake her. He simply sat down beside her, leaned his own head back against the tree, and closed his eyes. A small, peaceful smile graced his lips for the first time in a long time, and under the watchful silver eye of the moon, he slept.
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