The corridors of the East Pavilion were silent when Princess Zhi returned.
The soft glow of dusk had settled, lanterns flickering to life one by one, their orange light stretching long shadows across the marble floor.
The palace maid supported her as they entered her chambers. Zhi moved carefully, both hands protectively over her stomach.
Her mind was still lingering on the Empress's calm voice, the warmth of that sweet tonic.
For the first time in months, her stomach didn't twist with nausea.
Her heart, too, felt lighter—until she saw the figure waiting inside.
Prince Liang was seated on the lacquered chair near the window, a cup of tea resting untouched beside him.
His expression, at first glance, was gentle—his smile light, his tone even.
"Zhi'er," he said, rising slowly. "You're late returning. Were you walking again?"
His voice carried concern, but there was a thin thread of steel beneath it.
