Faint as it was, the sweet smell on the wind tensed the muscles in his back and he could not help but scour the jungle for his friend. Thankfully it did not seem nearly as strong as it had during their previous encounter, but nevertheless, he worried for nobody more—and as always, with a thought like that, his pale eyes turned toward the moon. She was always watching.

The silver flower had been lucky enough so far to avoid her directly since they had been reborn here, but he knew that would not last forever, nor would he want it to. He was still a whisper in her ear as well as the Emperor's when needed, and more should they require it.

Tonight, however, the stars truly felt otherworldly. Yínhuā realized he had spent more time gazing upward than he intended, collected his thoughts, and then pushed onward. They did not meet each other as often as they used to, he thought. Was it the new year already? His sense of time had soured in this new land. But with winter dragging on, he could already imagine the blossoming trees and bustling activity, as if the whole palace thawed after snow.

As grace would have it, he slipped from one piece of underbrush to the next only to be met with the same, ever-watching moon, illuminated by the backdrop of starry sky and accented by red heliconia—truly, she was Heaven's Mercy.

Although he was adept at moving silently, he purposefully shuffled his paws to announce himself, dropping his chest toward the ground, forelegs folded before him so that his paws overlaid one another; his nose was tucked behind them, pointed downward, and his voice awaited her permission to speak.