The damp quietness of the prison hung like a second skin. Outside, the moon dipped lower and cast long shadows on the barred windows. It was the evening of the second day—the countdown started.
Execution pending.
Within their split cells, Yǔlín and Su Shu slept little if at all. Sleep was a luxury they could not indulge in, not when the weight of endings weighed on their chests.
She rested her head against the stone and whispered, "They told us the death will be conducted in the public square. That we will be paraded as traitors."
Yǔlín's words echoed through the partition, soft but unwavering. "Make them see this through. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die with you. And that's not going to be by myself."
A pause.
"You shouldn't speak like that," Su Shu whispered. "You're the prince. The one who they kneel before."
"Not anymore," he replied.
She hesitated and added quietly, "If this wall were not here. I'd be sitting next to you."
Yǔlín's laugh came low and coarse. "I'd most likely forget every single reason I've ever used this mask."
Su Shu shifted and ran her fingers over the wall.
"Tell me a secret," she whispered. "Something nobody else knows."
Then: I would sneak into the stables as a child and just sit with the horses. I did not like court halls. There was a particular mare—she had a silver mane and a kind face. I sobbed into her neck when I believed my mother did not love me anymore.
Su Shu closed her eyes. "She did not stop. She merely forgot the way to express it."
A soft sigh
"What about you?" he inquired.
"I once stole a peach," she said in a broken laugh. "Got caught. My dad made me eat it in front of the old lady I stole it from. Told me: 'If you're going take from the world, let the world see you chew.'" and ever since then I've hsted peaches
They both grinned and the silence became golden.
Their palms touched once more against the wall—a ritual now.
"If I touched you at present, I would not release you," su shu said.
"Then wait not until the stone disappears to yearn for me," whispered yulin.
A moment elapsed.
Then: a quiet rattling.
A small piece of folded paper was slipped through the crack beneath the door of Su Shu's cell.
She grabbed it swiftly, her heart racing.
The message indicated:
"You're not on your own. When the skies crack open, head east. The shadow precedes the blade." Su Shu was confused for a sec , what's happening
No name
She recognized the handwriting however. A maid who served in Yǔlín's rooms. The very same who used to give her food.
Her hand shook slightly.
Hope. A perilous yet lovely thing.
Standing above ground level, Commander Wuji stood in the archives, thumbing through the copied logs of evidence. He scowled.
"Too tidy," he grumbled. "Too quick. Someone ensured this came together."
He approached a nondescript guard
Who submitted those documents? Who signed off on the bloodstains and clothing? I want names. Discreetly.
The guard bowed and departed.
Wuji gazed at the dancing lamp flame. He had a bad feeling about this.
At the prison once more, Su Shu rested her forehead on the wall and whispered softly.
I wish the world gave us a little bit longer
Yǔlín answered, a smile flickering on his lips, "Sometimes. a moment can be worth a lifetime."
But as his words passed away, he coughed—softly. Blood ran at the corner of his lips and was slapped away quickly on his sleeve.
He did not share it with her.
He wouldn't. Not yet
As the light from the candle wavered, Su Shu sang softly, her singing filtering through the gaps:
"Even though we're broken,
We'll never be alone.
Your voice is still unspoken,
But I feel it in my bones.
Bars may cage the body,
But love, it knows no chain.
I write your name in silence,
You echo through my pain.
Two hearts in different places,
But beating just the same".
The silence thereafter was not empty any longer. It was full—of memory and rebellion's faraway heartbeat and of defiance.