The morning sunlight streamed through the tticed windows of the medical pavilion, casting intricate patterns across Nine's recovery chamber. One week had passed since she had regained consciousness, and her strength returned more with each passing day. The imperial physicians still insisted on daily treatments and examinations, though their worried expressions had given way to nods of satisfaction as her body continued to purge the st traces of poison.

  Nine was sitting up in bed, reviewing intelligence reports on the ongoing investigation that Shadow Five had discreetly delivered that morning. The parchment detailed the test arrests in the conspiracy—three more officials from the Ministry of Works had been implicated through documents found in Minister Hui's private residence. She was so absorbed in the information that she nearly missed the soft footsteps approaching her chamber.

  Emperor Zhao entered without the usual announcement of imperial presence. The attendants had grown accustomed to his daily visits and no longer maintained the full ceremonial protocol that would have been required elsewhere in the pace.

  Nine immediately set aside the reports and attempted to rise for a proper greeting, but Zhao gestured for her to remain seated.

  "Save your strength," he said, pulling a chair closer to her bedside. "The physicians tell me you're recovering well, but there's no need to exhaust yourself with formalities when it's just the two of us."

  His attire was noticeably simpler today—still finely made but cking the eborate embroidery and imperial emblems that typically adorned his court robes. It was another small sign of the growing informality between them during these private visits.

  "How are you feeling today?" he asked, his voice warm with genuine concern.

  "Better. The dizziness has almost completely subsided," Nine replied, still maintaining some formality in her speech but without the excessive protocol that had once defined her responses.

  Zhao nodded, studying her face. "You have more color today. The chief physician believes you may be able to leave the medical pavilion within a few days."

  "I look forward to resuming my duties," she said automatically.

  Something flickered in Zhao's eyes—a momentary shadow that passed quickly but not before Nine had noticed it. She had been trained to observe even the subtlest shifts in expression, and the Emperor's face had become particurly familiar territory.

  "Always duties," he said softly. "Even after nearly dying, your first thought is of service rather than yourself."

  Nine wasn't sure how to respond. The observation wasn't incorrect—her entire existence had been structured around duty since Commander Zhao had found her in the wilderness all those years ago.

  After a moment of silence, the Emperor reached for the pot of tea that had been left beside her bed. He poured a cup for her and then, surprisingly, one for himself—another departure from protocol, as no one was supposed to serve the Son of Heaven, not even himself.

  "I've been thinking about our conversations," he said, handing her the cup. "About masks and roles and the people beneath them."

  Nine accepted the tea with a small nod of thanks. "As have I."

  "Tell me something," Zhao said, settling back in his chair with unusual casualness. "What do you enjoy?"

  The question caught her off guard. "Enjoy?"

  "Yes." He took a sip of his own tea. "Not what you excel at or what serves a purpose, but what brings you pleasure. What makes Mei Lin happy?"

  Nine felt a strange uneasiness at the question. It was simple enough, yet she found herself struggling to formute a response. What did she enjoy? Her training had never emphasized personal preferences—quite the opposite. Shadows were taught to adapt to any circumstance, to find neither pleasure nor displeasure in their assignments but only to fulfill them with perfect efficiency.

  "I... I enjoy completing successful missions," she finally offered.

  Zhao shook his head slightly. "That's what Shadow Nine takes pride in. I'm asking what Mei Lin enjoys."

  The distinction he was making unsettled her further. For so long, she had been Nine—her designation, her identity, her purpose all wrapped into a single number. Before that, she had been a nameless orphan in training. And before that... the memories of the little girl who had lived in the cherry blossom vilge felt like they belonged to someone else entirely.

  "I'm not certain I know anymore," she admitted quietly, the honesty of the statement surprising even herself.

  Instead of disappointment, understanding filled Zhao's expression. He leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle. "When you lived in the wilderness after your vilge was destroyed, before Commander Zhao found you—did you have preferences then? Things you liked or disliked?"

  Nine closed her eyes briefly, reaching back into memories she had compartmentalized long ago. "I liked... watching the sunrise from the hollow of a particur tree. The way the light would filter through the leaves in different patterns each morning."

  She paused, surprised at how vividly the image came back to her. "And I would gather wildberries that grew near the stream. The red ones were sweeter than the purple ones, but I preferred the purple ones. I don't know why."

  A small smile touched Zhao's lips. "See? Mei Lin had preferences—things she enjoyed that had nothing to do with survival or duty."

  "That was a lifetime ago," Nine said, her voice soft but firm. "Shadow training reshaped everything."

  "Did it?" Zhao asked. "Or did it just bury those preferences beneath yers of discipline and duty?"

  Nine considered this. Was Mei Lin still there somewhere beneath Nine and Concubine Lin? Had those early preferences and joys simply been suppressed rather than erased?

  "I don't know," she answered honestly. "It's been... a very long time since I've thought about what I might enjoy rather than what I must accomplish."

  Zhao nodded, as if her answer confirmed something he had suspected. "I want you to find out."

  She looked at him questioningly.

  "I want you to discover—or rediscover—who Mei Lin is," he expined. "What she likes, what she dislikes. Not as part of a mission or a cover identity, but as genuine exploration."

  Nine hesitated. "Is this... an imperial command?"

  For the first time since entering, Zhao ughed—a genuine sound that transformed his usually composed features. "No, it's not an imperial command. It's a request... from me to you."

  The distinction wasn't lost on Nine. He was speaking not as Emperor to subject but as Zhao to Mei Lin.

  "I'll try," she said finally. "Though I'm not certain how to begin such an exploration."

  "Start small," he suggested. "When you're presented with choices that have no tactical significance—food, music, colors—pay attention to your instinctive response. What draws you? What repels you? Don't analyze, just observe."

  Nine nodded slowly, still uncertain about the purpose of this exercise but willing to attempt it. "And I should report these... preferences to you?"

  Zhao shook his head, amusement lingering in his eyes. "Not report. Share, if you wish to. This isn't intelligence gathering, Mei Lin. It's self-discovery."

  The continued use of her birth name rather than her designation or title created an unusual warmth in her chest. It felt both foreign and familiar, like returning to a pce long forgotten.

  "I have something for you," Zhao said, reaching into his robe and withdrawing a small wooden box. He pced it on the bed beside her. "Open it when you're alone. It's not a gift from the Emperor to his consort—just something I thought Mei Lin might appreciate."

  Before she could respond, a discreet knock at the door signaled the arrival of the physicians for her afternoon treatment. Zhao stood, imperial bearing settling back over him like a familiar cloak.

  "I'll return tomorrow," he said, his voice carrying both promise and warmth.

  "I look forward to it," Nine replied, and realized with mild surprise that she genuinely did.

  After the Emperor had departed and the physicians had completed their treatments, Nine was left alone with the small wooden box. It was simple but finely crafted, made of polished cherry wood with no ornamentation or imperial seal. Just a pin box given from one person to another.

  She opened it carefully and found inside a delicate gss vial containing what appeared to be small purple berries preserved in clear liquid. A folded note accompanied it, written in the Emperor's own hand rather than dictated to a court scribe:

  Something to remember while you discover who you are now—you once knew exactly what you preferred, without hesitation or analysis. That wisdom remains within you, even if buried beneath years of training and duty. These are from the imperial gardens. The head gardener cims the red ones are superior, but I thought you might prefer these.

  Nine stared at the gift, something tightening in her chest. Such a small thing—berries in a vial—yet it represented an act of careful listening and thoughtfulness that had nothing to do with her value as Shadow or concubine.

  She carefully repced the vial in its box, her fingers lingering on the smooth wood. Something stirred within her—not the sharp alertness of a Shadow sensing danger or the calcuted assessment of a consort navigating court politics, but something softer and less familiar. Something that belonged to Mei Lin alone.

  The next day brought a different sort of visit from the Emperor. Rather than coming alone, he arrived with two pace servants carrying a variety of objects.

  "The physicians tell me you're strong enough for short walks around the pavilion gardens," Zhao said after dismissing the attendants. "I thought we might sit outside if you feel up to it."

  Nine nodded, already moving to rise from the bed. The physicians had indeed encouraged more movement, though they insisted she not overexert herself. A simple wooden cane had been provided to support her still-recovering body, though her natural grace made the assistance almost imperceptible to casual observation.

  They walked slowly to a secluded corner of the medical pavilion's private garden. A small table had been set up beneath the shade of a flowering magnolia tree, and Nine noticed it held several items: a guqin, a set of brushes and ink stones, a small collection of poetry scrolls, and various ptes of food.

  "What is all this?" she asked as Zhao guided her to one of the cushioned seats.

  "Options," he replied simply, taking the seat across from her. "Things to help you discover preferences."

  Nine looked at the assortment spread before them. "This seems... eborate for such a purpose."

  "Perhaps," Zhao acknowledged with a slight smile. "But I find I'm rather invested in this journey of yours."

  There was something in his tone—a personal interest beyond imperial concern—that both warmed and unsettled her. She had been trained to analyze every motivation, to seek the tactical purpose behind every action. Yet Zhao's interest in her rediscovery of self seemed to serve no strategic objective she could discern.

  "Try the food first," he suggested, gesturing to the various small dishes. "The imperial kitchens prepared a variety of fvors—sweet, sour, spicy, bitter. See which ones appeal to you without thinking about nutritional value or practical concerns."

  Nine hesitated only briefly before selecting a small cake gzed with honey. She bit into it carefully, focusing on the sensation rather than automatically analyzing its composition as she would have done during poison detection training.

  "What do you think?" Zhao asked after she had swallowed.

  "It's... too sweet," she said, somewhat surprised by her own immediate reaction. She reached instead for a slice of preserved plum, its tartness leaving a pleasant tang on her tongue. "I prefer this."

  Zhao nodded, watching her with genuine interest. "See? A preference. Not based on tactical assessment or nutritional value—simply what pleases Mei Lin's pate."

  Nine continued sampling the different offerings, discovering with mild surprise that she favored the sharpness of ginger and the complexity of fermented bean paste over the richness of preserved duck or the sweetness of rice cakes.

  "You enjoy contrasts and complexity," Zhao observed as she finished a bite of pickled radish. "Things with yers rather than single, straightforward fvors."

  Nine considered this. "I suppose I do."

  "Now the music," he suggested, gesturing to the guqin. "Would you like to py, or shall I?"

  "You py," she said without hesitation, another spontaneous preference that seemed to emerge without analysis.

  Zhao's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but he pulled the instrument closer and positioned his fingers over the strings. "Any particur melody you'd like to hear?"

  Nine shook her head. "Choose something you enjoy pying."

  The Emperor's fingers moved across the strings, producing not the formal ceremonial music of court functions but something simpler and more intimate—a folk melody rarely heard within pace walls. Nine found herself closing her eyes, focusing entirely on the sound.

  "This reminds me of something," she said softly as the notes continued to flow. "When I was very small, before the raiders came... my father would sometimes sing while working in the orchard."

  Zhao continued pying but watched her face carefully. "What did he sing about?"

  "Mountains and rivers... travelers returning home..." Her voice grew quieter. "I had forgotten until now."

  The melody came to a gentle close, and Nine opened her eyes to find Zhao studying her with an expression she couldn't quite interpret.

  "Music has a way of awakening memories we didn't know we still possessed," he said. "Did you enjoy it?"

  "Yes," she answered simply. Another preference noted, another small piece of Mei Lin rediscovered.

  They continued through the afternoon, exploring different poems, brush styles, even the fragrances of various flowers in the garden. With each choice made, each preference expressed, Nine felt something shifting within her—as if spaces long closed were slowly reopening, allowing aspects of herself that had been suppressed to emerge into consciousness once more.

  As the sun began to lower in the sky, signaling the end of their time together, Zhao helped her rise from the cushion.

  "You've made discoveries today," he said, his hand remaining supportively under her elbow as they walked slowly back toward the pavilion.

  "Small ones," Nine acknowledged.

  "The most important journeys begin with small steps," Zhao replied. "Tomorrow, perhaps we can explore more."

  Nine gnced at him, a question forming that she had been suppressing throughout their time together. "May I ask something?"

  "Anything."

  "Why is this important to you? My... rediscovery of preferences."

  Zhao slowed his pace slightly, considering his answer with unusual care. "Because I want to know you—not just the Shadow who protects me or the concubine who attends me, but the woman beneath those roles. And I don't believe you can truly be known, even to yourself, until you rediscover who you are beyond your training and duties."

  The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, yet Nine felt a familiar caution rising within her. His interest seemed genuine, his attention focused on her with an intensity that went beyond imperial concern for a valuable asset. But she had witnessed his simir fascination with Lady Hui—had observed firsthand how quickly royal favor could shift.

  "And if who I am doesn't please you?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could contain it.

  Surprise flickered across Zhao's face. "That's not what this is about. I'm not testing you for compatibility or evaluating your worthiness."

  "Aren't you?" Nine's voice remained soft, but something harder entered her tone. "Lady Hui once held your attention just as completely. You were fascinated by her, drawn to what you believed was her authentic self."

  Understanding dawned in Zhao's eyes, followed by a shadow of regret. "You think this is the same situation."

  Nine didn't answer directly, but her silence was confirmation enough.

  They had reached the entrance to her chamber, and Zhao guided her inside before responding. When they were alone once more, he turned to face her fully.

  "What I felt for Lady Hui was based on careful calcution and deliberate manipution—a performance designed specifically to appeal to what she learned were my preferences and vulnerabilities." His voice carried no anger, just quiet acknowledgment of truth. "She studied me as one might study an opponent, crafting herself into exactly what she believed would most effectively capture my attention."

  Nine remained silent, watching him closely.

  "What draws me to you is entirely different," Zhao continued. "You never tried to capture my attention or earn my favor. You performed your duty with exceptional skill, certainly, but you never once attempted to become what you thought I wanted."

  He stepped closer, his voice lowering slightly. "I became interested in you precisely because you weren't trying to interest me. Because glimpses of who you truly are—beyond Shadow and concubine—emerged despite your training, not as part of a calcuted performance."

  Nine considered his words carefully. There was truth in them, she knew. She had never attempted to attract the Emperor's personal attention; such a thing would have been considered a dangerous distraction from her mission parameters.

  "Even so," she said carefully, "royal interest is often... temporary. What fascinates today becomes familiar tomorrow."

  Zhao's expression softened with something that looked like sad understanding. "You're steeling yourself against attachment because you expect abandonment."

  The observation struck uncomfortably close to Nine's unacknowledged thoughts. Was that what she was doing? Protecting herself against the inevitability of his shifting attention?

  "I'm being realistic," she replied. "Imperial history is filled with consorts who rose and fell from favor. It's the natural order of court life."

  "Is that how you see what's developing between us? As simply another cycle of imperial favor?" There was no anger in his question, only genuine curiosity.

  Nine found herself unable to fully articute her thoughts. Her training had prepared her for countless scenarios—assassination attempts, covert surveilnce, complex infiltrations—but not for this conversation, not for the complex emotions that seemed to be developing between them.

  "I don't know what to call it," she admitted finally. "This exists outside all parameters of my experience and training."

  Zhao's expression softened further. "For me as well. The Son of Heaven is not supposed to develop genuine feelings for one of his Shadows. It viotes every protocol, every boundary established for imperial security."

  He moved to the window, looking out at the gardens as twilight began to settle over the pace grounds. "Yet here we are."

  Nine watched him, struck by how human he appeared in this moment—not the living embodiment of heavenly authority but a man wrestling with emotions that defied imperial convention.

  "I can't promise you forever," Zhao said, turning back to face her. "No one can, especially in our positions. But I can promise you this: what I feel for you is not the same as what I thought I felt for Lady Hui. It's not based on calcution or performance. It grew despite every reason it shouldn't have, despite every barrier of training and protocol designed to prevent precisely this kind of connection."

  He approached her once more, stopping just close enough that she could see the unusual vulnerability in his eyes. "I don't ask you to believe in forever. Just believe in now—in what exists between us in this moment. And know that I'm not asking you to be anything other than who you truly are, whoever that turns out to be as you rediscover yourself."

  Nine felt something loosen slightly in her chest—not complete surrender of her caution, but perhaps a willingness to consider that what was developing between them might be different from the predictable patterns of court life she had observed so carefully.

  "I can try," she said simply.

  Zhao nodded, accepting her cautious response without pressing for more. "That's all I ask. And while you're discovering who Mei Lin is, I'll continue discovering who Zhao is beneath the Son of Heaven. Perhaps we can make these discoveries together."

  As he prepared to leave, Nine found herself speaking once more: "I did enjoy today. Truly."

  A smile touched his lips—not the carefully measured expression of imperial benevolence but something more personal, meant only for her. "As did I."

  After he had gone, Nine sat alone in the growing darkness of her chamber, reflecting on their conversation. Her tactical training urged caution, reminded her that attachment created vulnerability, that expectations of permanence were rarely fulfilled in the shifting ndscape of imperial politics.

  Yet another part of her—perhaps the part that was slowly rediscovering itself as Mei Lin—wanted to believe in the possibility that what was growing between them might be different from the calcuted performances and temporary fascinations that typically characterized retionships within the pace walls.

  She decided on a middle path: she would allow herself to enjoy these moments with Zhao, to explore the connection developing between them, but without expectations of permanence. She would embrace the present while protecting her heart against the future, knowing that royal attention, however sincere in the moment, was subject to change with political necessity or personal whim.

  As she prepared for sleep, Nine found her hand drifting to the small wooden box containing the preserved purple berries. Such a simple gift, yet within it y a profound recognition of something she had nearly forgotten about herself. If she were to continue this journey of rediscovery, perhaps more forgotten pieces of Mei Lin would emerge from beneath the disciplined composure of Shadow Nine and the calcuted submission of Concubine Lin.

  The thought both frightened and exhirated her—a combination of emotions she had been trained to suppress but now allowed herself to acknowledge, if only in the privacy of her own thoughts. Tomorrow would bring another day of recovery, another visit from Zhao, another opportunity to discover who she truly was beneath all assigned roles and duties.

  For tonight, that was enough.