By the time they arrived at Hua Jing's courtyard, the rain had long since passed, leaving the night air crisp and fragrant with the scent of damp earth and blossoms.
The sky stretched wide above them, endless and deep, scattered with stars that flickered like tiny lanterns in the heavens.
Everything felt strangely quiet.
But not the kind of silence that was empty or cold.
This was a different kind of silence—the kind that settled between two people standing at the edge of something unknown.
Hua Jing's heart thudded against her ribs.
She hadn't thought about it before—not until now, not until they were standing here, hand in hand.
This was her courtyard.
The one Zhao Yan had prepared for her.
The one he had chosen.
And somehow, that realization made it feel different tonight.
She had always found peace here—among the soft lantern light, the trailing vines that crept along the walls, the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.
