Yao wandered through Bai's realm.
It was vast, vast in the same way Heiyun's realm had been vast. Yet this place felt different.
It was not the mortal world.
And yet it was.
There was no horizon. No visible boundary. It stretched endlessly, mirroring the scale of the mortal plane without belonging to it.
Art.
Heiyun had grounded himself in sleep and coffee.
Bai had grounded herself in art.
This realm itself was a gallery.
Yao continued walking.
After several hours, she returned to the Bai estate.
Estate. An ill fitting place for a Ruler.
The guards moved in rhythm. Their uniforms were immaculate. Their speech was measured. Even their silence carried intention.
This order extended beyond the guards. Workers, attendants, servants, every movement seemed choreographed, selected.
Yao approached one of the attendants.
"Take me to the gallery."
The workers exchanged a look, brief, restrained.
One of them lowered his gaze too quickly.
Another straightened as though correcting a mistake.
Still, prisoners did not usually walk freely.
And if she walked freely, she might be more than a prisoner.
One of them bowed. "This way."
The gallery was enormous.
Art lined the walls, paintings, sculptures, ink, marble, canvas—each piece different, yet all carrying a singular undercurrent.
Yao stopped before a portrait.
A man and a woman stood entangled, holding each other. Hugging, perhaps.
The drawing was imperfect. Jagged. Emotionally raw.
Across the canvas, a poem was written:
> You live inside me like a wound that never chose to heal, quiet, deliberate and eternal.
In your darkness, I did not disappear; I became something that no longer needed saving.
If this is ruin, then you are the only ruin I would kneel for.
Yao read it once.
Then again.
And again.
A guard stepped closer.
"What do you think the artist was trying to convey?"
Emotion.
That much was obvious.
But Yao had been numb for so long she could barely remember how emotion felt.
The only time she had come close… was with Heiyun.
She had been his mother once. His companion. His family. His servant.
Nine hundred years.
She knew she should feel grief. Wanted to.
But she could not.
She turned to the guard.
"Pain," she said calmly. "The kind that knows it will end in pain. And choosing it anyway. Anytime. Anywhere. As long as it is the pain you bring me."
The guard stared at her for a long moment.
Then he bowed. "That is… an interesting interpretation, my lady."
He withdrew.
Yao remained.
Heiyun had clung to sleep and coffee as anchors. Over centuries, that version of him faded. He tried, gifts after missions, gestures of gratitude, grants of freedom.
But it felt forced.
Because neither of them believed it anymore.
He no longer needed her to sleep. Nor her coffee.
His humanity had been performance ... .rehearsed, not lived.
Bai's was deliberate.
Art was story. Story required emotion. Perspective. Contradiction. If Bai had immersed herself in art for this long, she was close to humanity.
Very close.
A guard approached.
"My Lady Yao. The Eminence requests your presence."
Yao nodded and followed.
She was led to Bai's chamber.
Three knocks.
"Enter."
Yao stepped inside.
Bai was seated, reading.
Unsurprising. She had sneaked into Heiyun's realm before, just to borrow books.
Yao did not bow.
She walked toward a seat.
The moment she neared it—
The world stilled slowly.
Slowed then stopped. Like a bus coming to a halt. Yao's foot hung mid-step, her body suspended in air that had become solid. She couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe.
"That is not the proper way to behave before a ruler, is it?"
"No," Yao answered evenly, or tried to.
Bai turned a page.
The stillness held.
Another page.
Still held.
Yao's arm, the one extended toward the chair, began to change. The skin greyed. The muscle atrophied. The bone cracked, then crumbled.
Piece by piece, her arm fell away, dissolving into dust before it hit the floor.
Yao watched it happen. Felt nothing. Just the familiar absence where pain should have been.
Bai finally looked up.
"Are you trying to provoke me?"
Yao still couldn't move. Couldn't speak. But she didn't need to. Bai already knew the answer.
"I served Heiyun because he proved himself worthy," Yao said, or tried to. The words existed only in her mind. Bai heard them anyway.
"You have not."
The stillness deepened.
"I will comply with your commands," Yao continued, still voiceless, still frozen. "But until you prove yourself worthy of my allegiance, obedience is all you will receive."
Silence.
Then Bai smiled.
It was a small thing. A curve of lips that might have been warmth on anyone else.
On her, it was something else entirely.
"Obedience," Bai repeated. "We'll start there."
The stillness released.
Yao stumbled forward, catching herself on the chair. Her arm was gone. Dust on the floor. Nothing left.
She didn't look at it. Didn't react. Didn't care.
Bai watched her for a long moment.
"Go meet one of the supreme elders to heal your arms", Bai said, but Yao looked puzzled, then the look of realization showed on her face, like she'd just realized she lost her arm.
She walked out without waiting for dismissal.
Behind her, Bai Jinxue sat motionless, watching the space where Yao had stood.
For the first time in centuries, she wasn't sure who she was dealing with.
---
**Author's Note:**
The poem included in this chapter was written by Outofmind. Permission was received for its use..