The prison reeked of rust and wet stone. The nights ran together, bleeding into each other, the hours themselves unfathomable save for the pain in their bones and the quietness pressing in upon them like a second skin.
The quiet on this evening was different—intimate and heavy.
Yǔlín slumped in his corner, his breathing shallow, his golden eyes dim beneath the small amount of flickering torch light that reached his cell. Su Shu leaned against the stone wall opposite him, speaking softly.
"You haven't spoken a lot tonight."
A break
He answered hoarsely. "Silence seems safer some nights."
She moved over and got close until her knees touched the stone.
"Not tonight," she murmured softly. "Not when we're both trying not to be afraid."
He chuckled softly, as dry as a bone. "What do you fear, Su Shu?"
She hesitated. And then: "Forgetting what warmth feels like."
Yǔlín closed his eyes.
"Then recall this," she whispered and started humming once more—slower now, softer. The same tune. Her mother's voice brought alive by hers.
"By moonlight we were born,"
We swore in blood and in tears
when winds forget our names
Will shadows recall more?
The words flowed into the shadows, enveloping both of them.
Yǔlín leaned in so his forehead rested against the wall. "Your voice. it makes the darkness tolerable."
Su Shu did not answer but raised her palm once more and touched the stone. Yǔlín's hand matched hers.
The room buzzed with quiet unease.
"Do you regret having saved me that night?" she blurted out unexpectedly. "Before everything—before the mask slipped off."
He pressed his fingers harder against the wall.
No. Not ever.
There passed through her a tremor.
"I ought," he said. "I took a foolish gamble. A fool's risk. Selfish."
"You're many things, Lei Yǔlín," she whispered softly, "but selfish isn't any of them."
His jaw clenched.
"If we don't make it out of here." he started.
"Don't," she interrupted. "Don't talk like that."
But he continued on, his voice shaking.
"If we don't." I want you to understand—
Abruptly, the stone at her back buzzed.
A harsh, muffled thud.
"Yǔlín?" she gasped.
No solution
She sprang up on her feet in panic.
Nothing yet.
On the other side of the room, his body collapsed on the ground, breathing shallowly, the poison gaining another victory.
He struggled to raise his head but could not. He envisioned her tone as light, her caress cutting through the stone in his daze.
Su Shu banged her hand on the wall. "You must not leave me behind!"
She knelt on her knees, palms pressed flat on the barrier. "Yǔlín, speak—anything."
Traditionally
Then a whispered sound—just a breath: "…I'm still here."
Her eyes welled up with tears.
"Good," she whispered. "Stay."
Their palms were on each side of the wall, inches from each other.
And although stone separated them, some unseen, inescapable thing passed through—
A thread of destiny
Their fingers were on opposing sides of the wall, inches from each other.
And although stone separated them, something intangible, undeniable passed through—
A thread of destiny
Heavy footfalls suddenly echoed down the hallway.
A guard's voice rang out, cold and final:
"The sentence will be carried out in three days' time—at dawn."
Silence ensued.
But amidst the silence, Su Shu and Yǔlín stood with their hands on the wall—
Closer than ever
far as they'd ever been from mercy
And time started to run out for the first time.
Yulin said softly seems they finally see more evidence