Time: Five days later, afternoon
Location: Imperial Garden, Maple Grove
Autumn was in full bloom. Maple leaves blazed like fire, carpeting the winding stone paths. Gu Lian had, for once, set aside his duties to stroll here with Ai Miao. The guards followed at a respectful distance.
A particularly vivid maple leaf spun through the air and landed on Ai Miao's shoulder. Gu Lian reached out naturally and brushed it off.
"You seem unusually quiet today, Ai Miao." He withdrew his hand, fingertips still tingling with the warmth through the fabric.
Ai Miao gazed ahead at the path dyed red by fallen leaves. Softly, he said, "I'm listening to the wind. Watching the leaves fall. Does Your Majesty not feel that, in this moment, all noise has faded—leaving only the voice of nature?"
"The voice of nature?" Gu Lian raised an eyebrow, then suddenly stopped and turned to face him. His gaze was deep.
"What I hear," he said, "Is more than just wind."
He leaned in slightly, close enough that only Ai Miao could hear the breath of his words:
"I think I hear… a bold little butterfly. Its wings trembling ever so slightly."
Ai Miao's ears flushed red—brighter than the maple leaves. He instinctively tried to step back, only to find his heel pressed against the edge of the stone path.
Gu Lian chuckled quietly and straightened, as if he'd merely made a passing joke. He reached up and plucked a particularly elegant maple branch, holding it out to Ai Miao.
"The palace craftsmen trim too neatly—losing the wild charm. This one has natural grace. It would suit your inkstone vase."
His tone returned to normal, but his gaze remained locked on Ai Miao.
Ai Miao steadied his breath and accepted the branch with both hands. Their fingers brushed—just for a moment. Lighter than a leaf. Hotter than flame.
"Thank you for the gift, Your Majesty." He lowered his eyes, voice deeper than usual. "I… will tend to it well."
—He understood. This was no ordinary branch. It was a message. A permission. Your boldness—I know. And I… welcome it.
On the way back to the palace, they remained silent. But the air between them had changed. No longer filled with tentative probing— Now, it was quiet sweetness, confirmed.
Ai Miao cradled the maple branch as if holding a priceless decree.
Gu Lian walked beside him, His gaze drifting to the faint blush on Ai Miao's ear. A smile curled at his lips—soft, unseen.
Some butterflies need no chasing.They choose, willingly, to rest in the only palm they trust.