The journey back to the palace was swift, but heavy with unspoken fears.
Suyin held the gourd tightly against her chest, wrapped in silks, warmed by her own breath as Han Zeyin had instructed. Qin Fuhua walked beside her in silence, his hand hovering just behind her back—not touching, but always near, ready if she stumbled.
The air was colder now. The wind carried the scent of smoke and pine, and somewhere in the far ridges behind them, the whisper of movement stirred—ZhengAn, perhaps, or the remnants of her intentions.
But none of that mattered.
The palace gates opened without question. The guards bowed low, and servants parted in silence as the Prince of Qin and the woman they now called his destined match walked together down the long corridor.
When they reached Princess Chuhua's private courtyard, it was still. Too still.
Areum rushed forward, eyes glistening with worry. "Her fever spiked again this morning. The physician said she might not wake."
Suyin didn't speak. She stepped forward, unwrapping the gourd with care, her expression unreadable—her hands steady as if she carried not medicine, but hope itself.
Qin Fuhua moved to the other side of the bed and sat, lifting his sister gently so Suyin could support her. Chuhua's skin was pale, her breath ragged. Her once vibrant lips had lost their color, and her brow glistened with sweat.
Suyin took a deep breath. "Princess…" she whispered, her voice like a prayer.
Then she uncorked the gourd.
The scent that rose from it was nothing like anything in the world—earthy, sweet, metallic, and faintly floral, with a lingering trace of magnolia, as if her grandfather's touch still lingered in the brew.
She poured a few drops into a porcelain cup, then added cool spring water with trembling fingers. She placed her hand on the Princess's chest, closing her eyes, channeling every drop of her warmth, her memories, her devotion—the bond they'd shared when no one else cared, the hours she spent holding her through pain.
"Please," she whispered. "Let this reach her."
Qin Fuhua took Chuhua's hand, clutching it tightly. "Jie," he murmured. "You once told me I was always too serious. I'll smile for you every day if you open your eyes."
With one last breath, Suyin pressed the cup to Chuhua's lips.
At first, nothing.
Then a sharp gasp—Chuhua's body jerked.
Her hands began to tremble.
Her eyes, fluttering—shuttered, then blinked open slowly, like petals waking to morning sun.
"…Fuhua?" Her voice was a rasp, but unmistakable.
Qin Fuhua leaned in, a rare tear slipping from his eye. "I'm here."
Chuhua turned her head slightly, her gaze finding Suyin. "You… again."
A weak smile bloomed on her lips.
Suyin felt her knees buckle, but Fuhua caught her just in time.
Areum gasped behind them. The entire room fell into stunned stillness.
But all Suyin could feel was the warmth of Chuhua's fingers wrapping around hers.
She had made it.
-------------------------
The lanterns in Princess Chuhua's chamber burned low, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The air was heavy with the faint fragrance of medicine and magnolia, but the tension that once gripped the room had eased. Chuhua slept peacefully now—her breath steady, her brow no longer furrowed in pain.
Suyin knelt beside the bed, carefully adjusting the silk blanket over the princess's fragile frame. Her fingers trembled slightly, not from exhaustion, but from the slow unwinding of tightly coiled nerves. She had done it. The Hong Teng elixir had worked.
From behind, footsteps approached—quiet, measured. Then came a familiar warmth at her side.
Qin Fuhua.
Without a word, he lowered himself beside her, his presence as grounding as ever. For a moment, they both sat in silence, the only sound being the soft rustling of the paper screens and Chuhua's gentle breathing.
"She's sleeping peacefully," Suyin finally whispered, her voice fragile. "Her fever broke… and the spasms are gone."
Qin Fuhua glanced at his sister, then at Suyin. "Because of you."
Suyin shook her head faintly. "Because of my grandfather's medicine. I was just the one who followed through."
He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "No. You stayed. You didn't waver. You took her pain into your own hands."
Their eyes met, and in that brief gaze, years seemed to pass—of secrets, of stolen glances, of battles fought in silence.
Suyin's breath hitched. "I was so afraid I'd lose her."
"And I was afraid I'd lose you," he murmured, voice low. "When you collapsed in the hills… I couldn't breathe. I realized then—if anything ever happened to you…"
He paused, swallowing thickly.
Suyin reached out and took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.
"You won't lose me, Qin Fuhua. Not now. Not ever."
He pulled her into his arms then, gently, like she was something precious he couldn't afford to break. She leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and they sat together in silence—two hearts finally beating in rhythm after the chaos.
Outside, the wind rustled the plum trees in the courtyard. Inside, time stilled.
After a while, Suyin spoke, her voice barely audible. "Do you think your sister will be alright?"
Qin Fuhua looked at the bed. "She will. With you by her side."
He turned back to Suyin, his thumb brushing over her hand. "You brought her back. Just like you brought light into my life when I had forgotten how to hope."
Suyin closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words and his presence wrap around her like a balm.
"I don't want to be anywhere else but here," she whispered.
"Then stay," he said simply. "Stay with me. Always."
And in that still moment, beneath the watchful hush of moonlight, they found a peace neither of them had ever dared to believe in before.
------------------------------------------
Morning light slipped past the silken curtains, scattering golden warmth across the chamber. The scent of dew and blooming orchids lingered in the air, while the rhythmic chirping of birds marked the new day's beginning.
Suyin stirred first.
She had fallen asleep sitting upright, her head resting lightly on the side of the bed where Princess Chuhua lay. Qin Fuhua had covered her with his cloak sometime during the night and remained nearby, sitting in the chair near the window, quietly watching the sunrise filter over the gardens.
A rustle from the bed drew their attention.
Chuhua's eyes fluttered open—slow, hesitant blinks as if waking from a long, distant dream. Her gaze moved across the room before it landed on the familiar figure beside her.
"Suyin…?" she murmured, her voice delicate, like paper in the wind.
Suyin immediately straightened, her eyes welling with quiet relief.
"You're awake," she whispered, smiling through the tears that threatened to fall. "You're really awake."
Chuhua blinked slowly, looking around before her gaze softened. "I feel... lighter."
"The worst has passed," Suyin said, reaching to squeeze her hand gently.
"The fever broke last night. You're safe now."
A long silence passed between them, rich with unspoken gratitude. The Princess's hand tightened ever so slightly in Suyin's.
"You stayed by my side all this time," Chuhua said.
Suyin nodded. "There was nowhere else I wanted to be."
The princess turned her head slightly, her eyes drifting to her brother seated near the window. A fond smile ghosted across her lips before she looked back to Suyin.
"I always knew he needed someone like you," Chuhua whispered. "Someone who wouldn't be afraid of the thorns beneath the blossoms."
Suyin blushed faintly. "He's stronger than he looks."
Chuhua let out a soft chuckle, her voice still raspy. "He's stubborn, proud, impossible… and completely in love with you."
Suyin lowered her eyes, her fingers gently tracing the embroidered edge of the blanket. "I love him, too."
The princess exhaled a peaceful sigh, the expression on her face serene despite her weakness. "Then take care of him, Suyin. Don't let the weight of this world pull him into shadows again."
"I promise," Suyin whispered.
Qin Fuhua stood and approached the bed, his gaze steady on his sister.
Chuhua turned to him and smiled faintly. "She's brighter than you deserve."
He raised an eyebrow. "That, I won't argue."
Suyin chuckled quietly as he sat beside them, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
The storm had passed. For now, there was peace.