The scent of medicinal herbs still lingers in my robes as I stare at the door separating me from the courtyard—and from Gong Yuanzheng. After weeks of painful treatments, my memories have finally returned. Every touch, every whispered word, every argument and reconciliation with Yuanzheng is clear in my mind now. But so too are the foolish things I said and did while my mind was clouded.

Yue Gongzi says Yuanzheng has asked after me daily, his normally fiery spirit dimmed by worry. The knowledge twists in my chest like guilt and longing intertwined. Behind me, I hear the soft rustle of fabric as Yue Gongzi approaches.

"Your tea is getting cold," he observes quietly, though his eyes are sharp with knowing. "And the path to the front mountain grows clearer with each passing hour." He doesn't need to say Yuanzheng's name. We both know he's the reason I've lingered by this door for half the morning.

Through the thin paper screen, I catch movement—a flash of familiar blue that makes my breath catch. Yuanzheng is here, in the outer courtyard, collecting medicinal herbs. He's so close I could reach out and touch him through this door.

What will I say to him? How do I begin to bridge the weeks I forgot him? And after I left him so abruptly last night...

The door feels heavier than any mountain gate as I place my hand upon its surface, feeling the faint warmth of the sun on the wood. Beyond this threshold waits the man I nearly lost twice—once to injury, once to memory. The question isn't whether to open it, but how.