(Moon Orchid Pavilion — Early Morning)
Ruyi sat at her low writing table, brush poised over parchment, yet unmoving.
Instead, her eyes followed the nervous pacing of Chen'er, who had nearly tripped over the same rug three times.
Finally Ruyi set her brush down.
"Chen'er."
No response.
"Chen'er."
Still nothing.
Ruyi sighed.
"Chen'er."
Chen'er froze like a startled rabbit.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Come here."
Chen'er shuffled forward, wringing her hands behind her back.
Ruyi tilted her head slightly.
"You have been behaving strangely."
Chen'er blinked. "Me? Strange? No, not at all"
"Running from corridors," Ruyi continued calmly.
"Hiding behind pillars. Dropping trays. Avoiding sunlight, footsteps, and men who breathe."
Chen'er turned crimson.
"Is this about Liang Yuren?"
Silence.
Ruyi folded her hands neatly.
"Chen'er," she said softly, "look at me."
Chen'er raised her eyes wide, confused, terrified, overwhelmed.
"What exactly is frightening you?"
Chen'er inhaled shakily.
Then everything burst out at once.
// Chen'er's Confession//
"I don't like him, my lady!"
Ruyi's brows lifted.
"To be precise," Chen'er rushed on, "I don't dislike him, but I don't not-like him either, but I don't know him… I don't understand him I don't know what he wants or who he even is anymore"
She paced again, clutching her sleeves.
"He appeared after five years as if Heaven dropped him on my head! He stares like he knows my thoughts, he smiles like he sees through walls, and he talks about destiny and scripture and promises—"
Ruyi tried not to smile.
"And you dislike that?"
"I dislike pressure!" Chen'er cried.
"I like things I understand! I like routines! I like familiarity!
I don't understand him.
Or his feelings.
Or why he showed up again at exactly the wrong time."
Her voice cracked.
"And I don't understand why his presence makes me feel like someone moved the ground beneath my feet."
That last sentence hung in the air.
Ruyi's expression softened.
"So you do feel something."
"No!" Chen'er said quickly.
Then quieter:
"…I don't know. I don't want to know."
She sank into a cushion, face in her hands.
"I just want things to be normal again."
Ruyi reached forward, brushing a stray hair from Chen'er's face.
"Nothing in this palace is normal," she whispered. "Least of all the heart."
//Across the Room — Unseen Listener//
On the far side of the pavilion, separated only by a carved wooden screen, sat Liang Yuren.
He had come to return a borrowed scroll to Ruyi.
He had paused when he heard voices.
And now he sat with the youngest prince, balancing the little boy on his knee, spoon-feeding him sweet lotus porridge.
The prince giggled as he smeared porridge all over Liang's sleeve.
But Liang did not react.
He wasn't even breathing.
Chen'er's words drifted clearly through the screen.
"I don't know him."
"I feel pressured."
"I want familiarity."
"I want things to be normal again."
The prince tapped his chin with the spoon.
"Cousin Liang? Why your eyes wet?"
Liang blinked quickly.
One small tearsilver in the morning light slipped free and caught on his jaw.
He whispered, almost to himself:
"…If she is my helpmate…
she will come to me in her own time."
The prince tilted his head.
"Helpmate?"
Liang wiped his tear before it could fall onto the child.
"A very old word," he murmured.
"For a woman Heaven chooses for a man."
The prince blinked innocently.
"Does Chen'er choose Heaven?"
Liang smiled a small, aching smile.
"…She chooses freedom first."
He tightened his hold gently around the boy.
"And I must respect that."
//Ruyi's Realization//
Meanwhile, Ruyi watched Chen'er silently, her mind working swiftly.
Fear.
Pressure.
Confusion.
But not rejection.
Ruyi stood and placed a firm hand on Chen'er's shoulder.
"Listen to me," she said gently but with that iron core Chen'er trusted.
"Liang Yuren may move mountains for you.
But he cannot move you."
Chen'er looked up, startled.
Ruyi continued softly
"If he truly cares…
he will step back and wait."
A soft voice came from the other side of the screen:
"He will."
Ruyi's eyes flicked up, meeting Liang's gaze through the carved lattice.
He bowed his head in gratitude not to Chen'er, but to Ruyi.
Ruyi nodded once in acknowledgment.
A silent pact formed.
// Emotional Hook//
Ruyi turned back to Chen'er.
"Come," she said gently. "There is much to prepare. The Dowager awaits us at court."
Chen'er wiped her eyes.
"Will Liang be there?"
"Probably," Ruyi admitted.
Chen'er groaned into her hands.
Ruyi smiled slightly.
"Then today," she whispered, "we both face the things that frighten us."
Chen'er nodded.
Behind the screen, Liang Yuren stood, lifting the prince into his arms.
His voice was low, steady, filled with aching hope.
"If Heaven wrote her beside me," he murmured, "then I will wait for her to read the page."
The wind rustled the wooden screen softly as if turning a chapter.
(A Change in the Air)
After that morning's confrontation, the Moon Orchid Pavilion felt strangely lighter.
Chen'er, still red-faced, avoided the right side of the room entirely the exact spot where Liang Yuren had been sitting with the youngest prince.
But something unexpected happened.
Liang disappeared.
Not in the suspicious, secret-society way many men of the court did.
No Liang disappeared politely.
No hovering.
No chasing.
No dramatic declarations.
He simply… withheld himself.
A respectful absence.
//A Gentleman's Withdrawal//
In the next few days, whenever Chen'er passed the training ground, Liang would be there but only at the far side of the courtyard, sword flashing in the sun, never glancing her way.
If she entered a hallway he happened to be in, he stepped aside immediately, bowing without meeting her eyes.
If they crossed paths by accident, he halted with a soft, controlled nod.
Chen'er felt her heart flip each time.
Not from panic now.
But from guilt.
Wen Xiu noticed.
"Your shadow is behaving differently," she whispered.
"He's not my shadow," Chen'er hissed.
"Then why do you keep checking if he's there?"
"I DO NOT—" But she did.
(Liang's Quiet Resolve)
Liang had changed his routine
He appeared only when duty required it.
He vanished the moment protocol released him.
He avoided direct eye contact, even when Chen'er looked at him by accident.
He bowed more deeply than before
the bow of a man restraining something powerful and personal.
He spoke to the Emperor and the princes with effortless calm.
He laughed with the younger guards.
He greeted the Dowager with perfect respect.
But to Chen'er?
He only offered distance.
Beautiful, painful, respectful distance.
(The Library at Dusk)
Ruyi discovered something unexpected one evening.
She had gone to the Imperial Library to retrieve records on grain taxation when she noticed a shadow in the east alcove.
A familiar one.
Liang Yuren sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scrolls.
But not strategic texts.
Not war manuals.
Not maps.
Romantic literature.
"The Story of Harmonious Hearts."
"The Moon Bride and the Peach Blossom General."
"The Six Petals of Devoted Love."
Even a banned poetry collection titled
"When a Woman Looks Back."
Ruyi's lips parted in amusement.
Liang was reading furiously, turning pages as if trying to memorize ten years of feminine psychology in one night.
Every now and then he whispered
"…no, too forward…"
"…that would frighten her…"
"…do women truly like this…?"
"…Chen'er would slap me…"
Ruyi stepped from the shadows.
"You know," she said dryly, "falling in love through books is not the worst strategy."
Liang stiffened instantly.
He bowed deeply, not meeting her eyes.
"Your Grace."
Ruyi studied him for a moment.
"This is… unusual reading material for someone like you."
"…I am studying," he replied stiffly.
"For what?"
Her tone was deceptively light.
Liang hesitated.
Then, quietly, with the honesty of a man who had surrendered pride for affection
"For patience."
Ruyi blinked.
"For understanding."
Ruyi's expression softened.
"And for Chen'er?"
Liang closed the scroll slowly.
"For becoming someone who does not frighten her."
For a moment, Ruyi said nothing.
Then she stepped closer.
"She will see you differently someday," she murmured.
"When the ground stops shaking under her feet."
Liang's lips curved in the faintest, saddest smile.
"…I can wait for the world to steady."
(A Gentle Pattern Settles)
Days passed.
Liang's new behavior became a pattern, and the palace took notice
He trained harder, faster, sharper
He spent evenings reading history and love stories
He taught the youngest prince how to ride a horse
He helped the Dowager organize her summer retreat
He offered Ruyi formal greetings but never lingered
And toward Chen'er… only distance, only respect
Chen'er watched him.
More and more often.
Wen Xiu caught her once.
"Why are you staring at him?"
"I—I wasn't!"
"You were."
Chen'er bit her lip.
"He's… different."
"He's the same," Wen Xiu said.
"And you are the one changing."
Chen'er's heart stuttered.
She didn't deny it.
//SOFT, QUIET SUSPENSE//
That night, Liang rode a quiet horse along the palace's eastern wall, moonlight silvering his hair.
He glanced up at the Moon Orchid Pavilion and saw a single lantern glowing.
Chen'er's lantern.
A soft, hopeful breath escaped him.
Not a smile.
Not yet.
Just a quiet promise
"…when she is ready, I will be here."
And he rode on.