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For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring down at her like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

Then—“Baba!”

The sound of her voice cracked something wide open in him. The last bit of composure he’d been clinging to dissolved in an instant. He barely had time to open his mouth before she was in his chest, a small, shaking bundle of fur and tears. The word daughter felt too small for what she was—what she’d always been. His world. His light. His sun. His little lotus blossom.

He let out a sound that was half a laugh and half a breathless choke, pressing his muzzle against her head. Oh, little lotus, he whispered into her fur, his voice thick and unsteady in a way it hadn’t been in years. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you call me that again.

For once, he didn’t care that his fur was being ruined by mud or that she was practically dripping in it. He only held her a little tighter, a low rumble escaping him as he wrapped a single leg around her lower back and tugged her closer. You thought you were what? he murmured against her crown, pulling back just enough to look her over, bronze eyes gleaming faintly in the light. Gone? Lost? Nonsense. My daughter doesn’t get lost. The world just takes a while to catch up to her.

He smiled, soft and crooked, the kind that almost hurt to make. Then, in a teasing hum, he spoke, though, I’ll admit, you look a little like you wrestled a bog spirit and lost.

When she mentioned Mei, his expression gentled again, something like pride and longing flickering across his face. Not yet, he said quietly. But I believe she’ll find her way here, too. The Celestial Dragon doesn’t break families apart for good. Just… scatters them, to see if we can find our way back.

As they walked, his eyes stayed on her—not constantly, but often enough that it was clear he still didn’t quite trust the sight of her to last. He watched the way the morning light caught in her fur and the way her composure was already rebuilding itself piece by piece. It made him want to laugh again. She was so much like her mother—stubborn, graceful, and endlessly proud—yet entirely herself.

When she finally asked her question, his steps slowed. He glanced down at her, expression shifting to something softer and quieter. Long enough to think I'd never see you again, he admitted. A couple of weeks, maybe more. While the sun rises the same, the stars aren’t where they should be. How long has it been for you, daughter?

A small pause. Then, lightly—because if he didn’t, he might start crying again—he added, You know, for a princess who’s just woken up here, you still manage to look like you’re ready to lecture the court.

He reached over and bumped her shoulder with his own, grinning. I’m glad you’re here, Lian, he said quietly. The empire might be gone for the both of us, but… at least my world’s a little brighter now.

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