The household soon fell into silence and only the occasional whisper of the wind brushing past silk curtains and the faint rustle of pine outside broke the stillness.
After dinner, the family had dispersed quietly. Her father had retired to his study room, muttering something about the emissaries' preparations; her mother had walked her halfway down the hall, urging her to rest early and take her medicine. Yueshuang had nodded obediently, masking the unrest that coiled beneath her calm exterior.
Now, the mansion lay cloaked in slumber.
The moon hung high outside her window, pale and solemn, its light spilling like liquid silver across the polished floor. Yueshuang stirred beneath the thin quilt, unable to find rest. The faint scent of sandalwood still lingered in the air, familiar, grounding, yet somehow suffocating.
