The ledge had become their whole world.
No more running.
No more hiding.
No more hairpin whispering secrets in Mei's skull.
Just three girls sitting shoulder to shoulder, watching the sun climb toward noon while the last cherry petals spiraled lazily downward and settled on their hair like confetti from a wedding no one had invited the heavens to.
The Heart-Blossom tokens had turned to fine gray ash between their joined hands.
The pink qi cords had faded completely.
Their meridians—once rivers of light—now felt quiet, ordinary, human.
Mortal.
Mei looked left at Sùyīn, right at Xīuyīng.
Sùyīn's sharp eyes were softer than Mei had ever seen them—still wary, still ready to throw a handful of paralytic dust at the first elder who showed up, but softened by something new. Something that looked a lot like peace.
Xīuyīng sat with perfect posture even now—knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them—but the ice was gone from her face. In its place: faint freckles across her nose that Mei had never noticed before, because frost had always hidden them.
Mei reached out.
Took Sùyīn's hand in her left.
Xīuyīng's in her right.
Three palms pressed together over the small pile of blossom ash.
No words for a long minute.
Then Mei spoke—voice rough from crying and laughing and everything in between.
"I thought breaking the loop would feel like thunder. Or fire. Or at least some dramatic qi explosion that shakes the mountains."
Sùyīn snorted. "Instead it felt like… letting go of a rope you've been gripping for seven lives."
Xīuyīng's thumb traced slow circles on the back of Mei's hand.
"It felt like waking up."
Mei turned her head.
Looked at Xīuyīng—really looked.
Silver hair tangled with petals.
White training silks ripped at the seams.
Eyes the color of early-morning frost, but warm now. Human now.
Mei leaned in.
Slow.
No urgency.
Xīuyīng met her halfway.
Their lips touched—gentle this time.
Not desperate like under the cherry rain.
Not hungry like the first stolen moment on Moonshadow Pavilion.
Just… home.
Soft press.
Warm breath mingling.
A small sound—half sigh, half laugh—escaped Xīuyīng against Mei's mouth.
When they parted, Mei rested her forehead against Xīuyīng's.
"I love you," she whispered. Same words as before. Different weight now. No cycle hanging over them. No next life to fix mistakes in.
Xīuyīng closed her eyes.
"I love you too."
Sùyīn squeezed Mei's hand—then leaned in and kissed Mei's cheek.
Then Xīuyīng's.
"And I love both of you idiots," she muttered. "Even when you make me climb cliffs and steal sacred flowers."
They laughed—quiet, tired, perfect.
The sun kept rising.
Somewhere far below, academy bells rang—distant, angry, searching.
They didn't move.
Eventually Sùyīn spoke again—practical as ever.
"We can't stay on this ledge forever. They'll find us. Or we'll starve. Or freeze when winter comes."
Xīuyīng opened her eyes.
"Then we go."
Mei raised an eyebrow.
"Go where?"
Xīuyīng looked out over the valley—mist still thick, hiding the world below.
"Anywhere that isn't here. A village. A forest cabin. A roadside tea stall. Somewhere small. Somewhere ours."
Sùyīn grinned—sharp, fond.
"I know a border town that owes me herbs. And probably still has that little courtyard house we rented. No arrays. No elders. Just bad rice wine and worse gossip."
Mei looked between them.
Felt the absence of the hairpin's weight on her scalp.
Felt the quiet in her meridians.
Felt the warmth of two hands in hers.
She stood—slow, joints creaking like someone twice her age already.
"Then let's go."
Xīuyīng rose beside her—graceful even without qi.
Sùyīn shouldered her wooden box one last time.
They started down the narrow path—three girls in torn robes and petal-strewn hair, walking like they had all the time in the world.
Because now they did.
Only one lifetime.
But it was theirs.
Behind them, high on the central peak, the great cherry tree stood bare—every blossom stripped, every petal carried away on the wind.
No more loop.
No more sentencing.
Just spring—ordinary, fragile, beautiful—spreading across the valley below.
Mei glanced back once.
Saw the academy towers rising through thinning mist—distant, cold, already starting to feel like someone else's story.
She smiled.
Turned forward.
Took Xīuyīng's hand again.
Then Sùyīn's.
They walked into the light.
Fade to white.