Phew—

Aya took in the familiar patch of clean ground, a haven in the city. Sunlight lacquered her face; the bare gleam of skin sent passerby glances drifting like kites.

She let the looks slide off like rain off oil paper. Her gaze hooked on the street beyond the airport. If memory hadn’t rusted, Asagi Renka’s place was twenty minutes uphill.

What am I doing, seriously. Annoyance pricked first, then she shook off the thought, dragged her suitcase, and stepped into the river of people.

Heads turned. A few shy boys flushed like ripening apples. Aya kept to her own weather; even if she weren’t preoccupied, it wouldn’t matter. Being watched wasn’t new.

After Berlin, she’d gone to Shanghai to seek funding. War burns silver and bodies; her clan had neither to spare. She had to beg the outside world.

Shanghai’s doors slammed more than they opened, but she did bring back money—less than she’d hoped. It said everything about how far the Single Leaf Clan had fallen, like leaves thinning in late autumn.

They had to end the war with the Church soon. Otherwise, only they would keep bleeding.

“Little miss, buy a flower? Cheap, very cheap—”

An auntie selling blooms in the street; a stab of red; fragrance curling like incense.

“Aren’t these roses?”

“You’ve got an eye. Take one for a friend. Or a boyfriend—works great.”

Aya stared at the roses. Thought. Then she pulled out her wallet. She could afford a few stems.

“Thanks for stopping by—”

Two flowers didn’t cost much. A small gift for Lian Hua, Aya decided.

Then again—since when had she started thinking of Asagi Renka with everything she did?

These days, without Lian Hua, she felt off-balance, like walking with one shoe. Maybe she’d grown used to that presence at her side. A sigh slipped out. They’d grown up together; there was nothing left to learn about each other. And yet… she’d never considered loving Lian Hua.

She remembered the war with the Divine Ling Family. A subordinate and friend lost an arm; Aya lost that friend altogether. Terror gnawed at her: one day, would Lian Hua be next? She couldn’t bear that.

Lian Hua already occupied a great room in her life. Even when Lian Hua had ignored her feelings and crossed a line, Aya hadn’t blamed her.

Without noticing, Aya stood outside a villa—Lian Hua’s place. Not the Asakura Family’s main estate. A house Lian Hua had bought, just because.

Rich people, honestly. Aya’s family had been stretched so thin they were down to vegetables. The unfairness stung like a nettle.

Ding-dong—

“Coming—”

The door opened, and there she was, in a school uniform: Asagi Renka.

“Aya? When did you get back—you should’ve told me. Come in, quick.”

“Thanks.”

Aya slipped off her shoes, neither cold nor warm, and stepped into the villa. Her eyes skimmed the space; a few years, and Lian Hua had traded roofs for a small palace. It made you contemplative.

“What, jealous of the place? Be my wife and it’s yours.”

“Ahem… your personality hasn’t changed.”

Color touched Aya’s face. She coughed and headed for the hall.

“Lian Hua, here. I bought these on the way. I don’t have money for anything better. Please don’t mind.”

She pulled two roses from her bag and set them in Lian Hua’s hands. Lian Hua looked dazzled.

“These… for me?”

“Who else is here?”

Why does she blush over a rose? That’s not like her.

“Aya, you’re too good to me. You like me, don’t you?”

“Eh? How did we get here?”

“Because you bought me a gift. That means you care.”

“But it’s a street-stall rose. What are you so happy about?”

“You don’t get it. If it’s from the person you like, even a glass bead is joy.”

“Nice image.”

Aya gave a dry laugh and let it go. Lian Hua had been after her for ages; this side of her wasn’t surprising.

“Or is it that you still won’t accept me?”

Lian Hua’s smile tucked itself away. She breathed in the rose and spoke softly.

Aya’s hand trembled; a shadow crossed her gaze, then smoothed.

“Lian Hua, let it go. I’ll only hurt you.”

Silence gathered like rainwater in a basin. Lian Hua didn’t speak. Aya thought she was weighing it; she moved to comfort her—Lian Hua caught her wrist.

“I’m not giving you up. You won’t drive me away.”

Her words were iron. Aya looked at her from a breath away, and heat climbed her cheeks, traitorous.

“Lian Hua, you don’t have to do this. I’m… I’m not right for you.”

“It’s enough that I’m right for you. Why reject me? Is liking me that hard?”

“When did I ever say that! You’ve always decided everything for me. Did you ever give me a choice—hey, Lian Hua, what are you doing!”

Lian Hua pushed her onto the sofa. The ceiling slid past like a white wave; Lian Hua’s storm-dark face filled Aya’s sky.

“Lian Hua, this isn’t right.”

Aya struggled to rise, but couldn’t break free; her voice thinned into pleading.

“If you didn’t like me, I wouldn’t force you. But do you have to push me away like this?”

“…Lian Hua,” Aya’s voice was tired, a thread fraying. “I’ve already cost too many people. Loving me would only hurt you.”

That struck; Lian Hua’s expression loosened, surprise breaking through.

“So you’re afraid you’ll drag me down. That’s why you won’t be with me?”

Aya didn’t answer that head-on.

“Lian Hua, I’ve lost too much. Comrades. Friends. People who died because of my wrong calls, my softness, my lack of strength. Do you think I’m fit for anyone?”

Sometimes a pebble sinks a heart; guilt is a winter river.

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever you are, you’re the Aya I love.”

“Lian Hua!”

“Don’t. I know exactly what I’m doing. I don’t need perfect. I want you—the you who breathes and hurts.”

Aya fell silent.

Lian Hua leaned in, choosing action over argument. The quarrel blurred into an embrace; Aya protested, then tears roughened her voice, like before, when Lian Hua’s will left her falling apart.

Memory cut clean as a blade:

“Hey, Lian Hua, this is for you.”

“Wow, so cute. Thank you, Aya.”

They’d had bright days.

“I told you, don’t touch my stuff. I’m not a child anymore!”

It was the first time Aya spoke to Lian Hua that way.

“Why… can’t you accept me?”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“Aya, I like you.”

“No way. We’re both girls. That joke’s too much.”

She didn’t believe her. Lian Hua was disappointed.

“Aya, is there a boy you like?!”

“Why are you overreacting… and no! What are you even saying!”

Lian Hua couldn’t hear. Only stubbornness stayed.

“Lian Hua? Your face is scary. I’ll get you some—hey, Lian Hua, what are you—”

That day, in Lian Hua’s room, she pinned Aya to the bed. Lines were crossed; something precious broke. Their bond warped after—closer in distance, farther in heart. Only recently had the cracks begun to mend.

Back in the present, quiet settled like ash. Aya lay staring at the ceiling, breath uneven; beside her, Lian Hua’s guard was just as gone. A knot of resignation and tenderness tightened in Aya’s chest.

In the end, they still fell into the same pattern.

“Aya, I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

The plea was so earnest it was hard to refuse.

“I won’t go.”

Somewhere along the way, Yie Caiyin realized she couldn’t let go of Asagi Renka.

“Lian Hua, when the fighting ends—if we both live—I… I can consider being with you.”

A promise laid down like a red thread. Fingers interlaced, and for this moment, they didn’t let go.