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Yuè · (This post was last modified: 10/5/2026, 10:43 PM by Yuè.)

Rivers thought of Lyra, but his words had evoked a different memory from the Empress.

Nothing about it was regarding business.

When she turned toward him, she was greeted with a smile that could have melted the moon right out of the sky. His words further investigated the peach allusion – the blossoms, the buds, the sweet and overripe fruits – and, maybe it was her hormones or the sheer gratitude and rollercoaster experience of postpartum, but,

Téng Yuè suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about the only buds she had ever known to not open and bloom.

There had been so many of them, all buried in a place that was secret, under the shade of a sycamore tree; a tree which no longer existed in her world.

It was so unfortunate that having heaps of living children did not dull the pain of those she had lost.

Had she known her interpretation of his metaphor would be so varied from his own, she might have felt shame. Instead, the woman summoned all of the grit in her soul, swallowed the sudden tightness that had clenched around her throat, and she entreated with Rivers with eyes so full of sincerity that they might have actually sparkled.

“No,” she said simply, the word falling off her tongue like rain. “I take no offense at all.”

The games had been lost to her. The woman shifted her countenance entirely, turning to face him instead of speaking out of the side of her mouth. He was more an interesting soul than most, and seemed to have a curiosity about her that was deeply pleasing.

Everyone else was here to witness a marriage, but he was watching her.

It was ridiculous to be sitting here, fighting invisible tears.

“Do you?”

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she of the radiant moon

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she of the radiant moon

Common • Mandarin • Japanese • Mongolian • Cantonese