The capital city never truly slept, but during the week before the Lantern
Festival, it pulsed with a feverish kind of life. Lanterns shaped like dragons
and moonflowers hung from every arch, silks dyed in festival colors rippled
from balconies, and the scent of roast chestnuts filled the air.
For a week, Ju Xian and Taotao became part of that rhythm — melting into
the crowd like shadows with a purpose. They worked in a tea vendor's back
room, stitched together coins, and mapped routes to the palace. Their goal:
sneak in during the Lantern Festival, when the guards would be distracted
by the festivities, the gates less closely watched.
> "We'll dress as dancers or herbalists," Ju Xian said, spreading her hand
over a stolen parchment of palace routes. "Once inside, we move toward the
west courtyard."
> "Or we get caught and spend the rest of our lives making dumplings for
rats in a dungeon," Taotao muttered.
But fate, as always, had its own script.
Two days before the festival, they were walking through the bustling
northern market. Street performers danced beneath a cascade of red silk
streamers. Merchants hawked perfumes and lanterns shaped like cranes.
The noise was chaotic — until a sudden hush fell like snow.
Hooves clattered on stone.
A royal carriage appeared, pulled by snow-colored horses. Gilded wheels
creaked slowly as it entered the square. The lacquered doors shimmered
with carved phoenixes, and silk curtains swayed with every breath of wind.
Onlookers stilled.
A child gasped, tugging her mother's sleeve. "It's her."
> "The quiet princess," someone whispered. "The one who walks without
escort. She reads foreign books."
Vendors bowed instinctively. The crowd split like fabric torn at the seam.
Silence wrapped the market as the carriage approached.
From within, the curtain lifted gently.
A young woman peered out — her hair a soft shade of chestnut-brown,
braided with freshwater pearls. Her features were delicate, but her eyes
were intelligent, unwavering.
And they locked straight onto Taotao.
She tilted her head slightly. Recognition sparked.
> "You," she called, her voice calm but curious.
Taotao froze. "Me?"
> "You were near the palace gardens. You ran."
> "I run from many things, Your Highness."
She stepped gracefully down from the carriage, her robes whispering
against the stone. People bowed lower. Even the guards stayed still, letting
her move freely.
> "What's your name?" she asked.
> "I'm nobody," Taotao said. "A visitor with a forgettable face."
Ju Xian shot him a look.
The princess gave a slight smile. "Then allow this 'nobody' to attend the
Lantern Festival as my guest. I've never met someone who ran from the
palace instead of toward it."
Taotao blinked. "I... would be honored?"
> "Good. I'll send a pass to the southern district."
With that, she turned and stepped back into her carriage. The curtain
dropped. The horses moved again, and the square slowly exhaled.
Ju Xian and Taotao stood amidst the stunned murmurs.
> "We were supposed to sneak in," Ju Xian said.
> "And now I have an invitation," Taotao replied. "See? Fate prefers charm over stealth."
They both looked back at the direction the carriage had gone.
The plan had changed — but perhaps, for once, in their favor.