They didn't stop running until the palace walls were a distant silhouette,
shrouded in mist and moonlight.
Ju Xian and Taotao collapsed behind a silk-dyer's shed in the weaving
district, their breaths heavy, their clothes damp with sweat. Every step away
from the cage felt like something was unraveling inside Ju Xian — a tether stretching thin.
She sat on the packed earth, staring into the distance, lost in thought.
> "You saw it," she whispered. "He looked at me like I never left."
Taotao, crouched beside her, tugged off his scarf and fanned himself.
> "Yes, I saw it. And I saw the guards too. Which is why we ran, in case you
forgot."
Ju Xian didn't respond. Her fingers toyed with a string on her sash.
That bird — that sound it made. It hadn't been just instinct or a trained
phrase. It had been grief. Recognition. Something deeper.
Something she wasn't ready for.
Night fell.
They found a corner behind an incense stall and laid low, wrapped in
borrowed cloaks. Ju Xian lay awake long after the stars appeared.
> "You're not sleeping," Taotao muttered beside her.
> "No."
> "Thinking about the bird?"
> "About... everything."
A beat of silence passed. Then Taotao sat up and looked at her, smug.
> "So. I was right."
Ju Xian didn't answer.
> "Say it," he pressed. "You felt something. That ache? That heat behind
your eyes? That's memory, Ju Xian. That's who you were."
> "It doesn't mean I believe in all this... reincarnation fate nonsense," she
said, though her voice wavered.
> "Then what do you call it?"
She turned to him, eyes dark.
> "I don't know. But I know I've never felt something like that before."
The wind rustled the edge of their blanket. A bell rang in the distance —
midnight.
> "So what now?" Taotao asked. "We go back? Find a new way in? Or do we
split and let fate decide?"
Ju Xian looked away, unsure. The ache in her chest hadn't left since Sky's
eyes met hers.
> "I don't know," she whispered. "But I don't think I can walk away."
Taotao leaned back, arms crossed.
> "Good. Because I'm too nosy to quit now."
They said nothing more. But the silence between them was not empty.
It was full of ghosts.
And one lonely bird waiting in a gilded cage.