That evening Ruoshui did not appear at the table; only Yu Furong and Yu Lan ate the simple meal. They’d heard Tang Di would not be eating there; he returned to his post at the gate. Yu Lan volunteered to bring him food and her heart quietly fluttered — she had been drawn to Tang Di since the night he’d fought at the gate. She worried for the future: even if the plague were defeated, the gulf between their stations might make anything more than friendship impossible. Still, if tomorrow never came, she wanted no regrets.

　　On the ramparts Tang Di stopped and accepted the foodbox she offered. He sat cross-legged, opened the box, and ate the leftover scraps of last night’s meal. Yu Lan watched him with concern.

　　“Do you really eat this?” she asked, pitying him.

　　“You flatter me,” he replied. “You played the zither last night, did you not?”

　　“Yes.” She blushed and stammered. “I hope I didn’t disturb you. My sister falls asleep to the music, so—”

　　“Nonsense,” Tang Di said. “Your playing calmed me. It helped me sleep.”

　　Yu Lan brightened. “Please, call me Yu Lan. My brother bought me for the brothel long ago.” Her voice faded; the confession made her cheeks burn.

　　Tang Di, awkward, replied, “Then Yu Lan.”

　　For days Feng Xinzi had worked at the imperial hospital; he could not find an immediate cure, but his presence steadied the weary medics and gave the staff reason to keep trying. He thought of Ruoshui constantly and worried. When he finally returned he scolded the women for not coaxing her to eat. Ruoshui, always composed, replied that it was her own choice.

　　Tang Di later arrived, apologetic over the household’s failure to provide better meals. A servant had already complained, arguing that Ruoshui had been fussing and refusing to touch food. Tang Di quieted the servant with a look.

　　“Is there anything we can do?” Feng Xinzi pressed.

　　“Not much,” the steward muttered. “But don’t trouble the prince.”

　　Ruoshui surprised everyone. She stepped forward and bowed, saying, “I’m sorry to cause trouble.”

　　“Not at all,” Tang Di insisted. He felt ashamed — as Prince Yunan’s steward, he should have done better.

　　The small, round-roasted chicken that Feng Xinzi produced the next morning changed the mood completely. Yu Furong and Yu Lan watched as Ruoshui devoured it with gusto and shared the drumsticks with them. The sight warmed their hearts. Yu Furong, who had been shell-shocked and out of place, found herself laughing with contentment.

　　Ruoshui spent her days sitting in the mansion’s courtyard chair, swinging her feet and watching the sky. Boredom nagged at her; she asked why Yu Lan had been absent.

　　“I go help the prince guard the walls,” Yu Lan answered. She had taken to the duty willingly, drawn by something she could not name.

　　“Let’s go out,” Ruoshui said suddenly.

　　“It’s not wise,” Yu Furong objected.

　　“What’s the harm? The city’s sealed — staying or going doesn’t change that. We either find an answer or we don’t. I have a feeling the Sleepless City will rise again.” Ruoshui smiled with stubborn hope.

　　Yu Furong thought she was talking nonsense. Where was the hope? Crows circled eternally overhead. The prince himself had no sure cure. Yet when Ruoshui suggested leaving to do something — anything — Yu Furong felt the faintest glimmer of possibility.