Dawn fog hung low along the borders of the Zhennang Empire.
The air felt damp, cold, and quiet—broken only by the occasional creak of wooden wheels rolling over stone. A merchant carriage moved slowly toward the gate, pulled by two horses that looked far more patient than intelligent.
Behind stacks of crates and spice-filled sacks, two small figures hid in near-heroic silence… if not for the occasional suppressed sneeze.
"…hff—"
"Don't sneeze."
The whisper came from Hua Yan, her eyes narrowing sharply as she peeked through a slit in the cloth cover. She looked composed, despite being half-crushed between sacks of pepper and tea chests.
Beside her, Xiu Yi curled up like a cat that had made a very poor choice of resting place.
"I'm not sneezing," he muttered, his nose slightly red. "I'm just… almost sneezing."
"That's worse."
Xiu Yi shot her a flat look. "Try sitting here for an hour with Feridun spices attacking your nose like it's personal."
Hua Yan said nothing. She simply returned to watching the outside.
"We're almost there," she whispered.
The carriage slowed.
Footsteps approached. Then—
"What are you carrying?"
The gate guard's voice was firm, carrying the weight of routine suspicion.
The merchant answered casually, like the world had never known trouble.
"Spices from Feridun, silk from Mycoria, and tea sets from Aurelthia."
"Aurelthia?" the guard repeated, slightly intrigued. "You came back from there rather quickly."
The merchant chuckled. "The border is close. Not as dramatic as the nobles like to claim."
Inside the carriage, Xiu Yi whispered, "At least he's honest."
Hua Yan gave a small nod. "That's why he's still alive."
Outside, the exchange continued.
"Nothing suspicious?"
"Just goods. Want to check?"
A brief silence fell.
Xiu Yi instinctively grabbed Hua Yan's arm.
"If they open—"
"They won't," Hua Yan cut in calmly.
And sure enough—
"No need. You're known here. Move along."
The carriage rolled forward again.
Only when the gate's sounds faded completely did they both exhale at once.
"…I'm going to die from pepper before I die from guards," Xiu Yi muttered.
Hua Yan glanced at him. "That would be a very inelegant death."
A moment later, a soft knock came from the wooden wall beside them.
"You can come out now."
The merchant's voice was casual, like calling children out from a hiding game.
Carefully, they crawled out and jumped down from the carriage into a quiet alley.
Xiu Yi inhaled deeply.
"Air… finally feels like air," he said, almost reverent.
Hua Yan dusted off her clothes. "You're exaggerating."
"No. I was becoming a living spice."
The merchant chuckled as he watched them.
"Be careful. This empire isn't kind to those who stand out too much."
Hua Yan nodded. "We know. We'll move carefully."
Xiu Yi added quickly, "And avoid pepper sacks in the future."
The merchant laughed softly before leaving them behind as the alley slowly filled with morning activity.
Zhennang welcomed them.
Wooden buildings with distinct architecture stood tightly along the streets. Red lanterns swayed gently, and the voices of merchants filled the air—offering tea, cloth, and things no one truly needed, yet still bought.
Alive. Crowded. Loud.
So different from the refugee camp.
Xiu Yi fell silent for a moment, watching the street.
"…not much has changed," he murmured.
Hua Yan looked straight ahead. "Or maybe we're the ones who changed."
A brief silence followed.
Then, like an unspoken agreement—
"We part here," Hua Yan said.
Xiu Yi exhaled softly. "Yeah… I know."
He lowered his gaze for a moment, then gave a faint smile.
"It's been a while since I last saw home."
Hua Yan looked at him a second longer than usual.
"We'll meet again, right?"
Xiu Yi gave a small shrug, but his eyes were steady.
"Of course. You think I'd forget everything we went through in that camp?"
Hua Yan nodded.
No grand vows. No dramatic oaths.
Just a quiet certainty that somehow felt enough.
They turned away from each other.
Small footsteps moved in opposite directions, stretching apart a distance they once fought through together.
The morning fog slowly faded.
And for the first time in a long while—
they were no longer walking side by side.