Until We Meet

17|🎗️ Upthrust

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Zhao Yun's calligraphy brush danced across the scroll, the black ink bleeding onto the parchment with each stroke.

High above the sprawling city of Chang'an, a lone white pigeon sliced through the crisp morning air. A sharp chirp shattered the silence, the sound so sudden it made him flinch. The brush clattered to the floor, a splatter of ink mirroring his frustration.

Bai Xue swooped down, her keen eyes searching for the small window leading to his study. There it was, ajar to let in the fresh morning breeze.

Landing gracefully on the windowsill, Bai Xue, the pigeon puffed her chest in pride.

He padded silently to the window, his heart sinking as he saw a white pigeon perched on the sill. It bobbed its head, a tiny rolled paper clutched in its beak. Puffing up her feathers once more, Bai Xue tilted her head and let out a series of insistent coos. Her actions attracted the General's attention. His gaze met hers, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then, recognition dawned.

With measured steps, General Zhao Yun approached the window, his movements radiating an aura of calm authority. Recognition dawned - Shifu's message.

With trembling fingers, he unfurled the paper. Three stark characters stared back, a single word: Urgent.

A curse escaped his lips. The timing couldn't be worse.

Across the room, I lay on in bed, the distant roar of the town festival a cruel reminder of my confinement. My gaze swept across the room, landing on a faded inscription on the headboard - a playful message from happier times.

Sunlight streamed through rice paper windows, painting delicate patterns across the polished wood floor. In the center of the room stood a massive bed, its frame carved from fragrant sandalwood and adorned with intricate jade dragons. Crimson silk sheets, embroidered with silver peonies, cascaded down the sides, inviting slumber.

On the right, a carved lacquer dressing table held an array of silver combs, jade hairpins, and rouge pots. Delicate silk fans, decorated with scenes of nature, hung on the wall behind it. A large bronze mirror, polished to a flawless sheen, reflected the room's beauty and the princess's own.

A bittersweet smile flickered on my lips, then died as a harsh reality settled in.

I winced, hopping awkwardly off the bed. The sprained ankle throbbed with a white-hot pain. Ignoring it, I hobbled to the window. The night sky pulsed with vibrant colors, a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. The black market - my only hope - beckoned. Time, a relentless tide, threatened to pull me under if I didn't reach it soon.

Moonlight streamed through the swirling clouds, offering a sliver of hope. It wasn't too late. But how?

Each tentative step towards the door sent a fresh jolt of pain shooting up my leg. Reaching the heavy oak barrier, I peeked through a crack. Disappointment flooded my face. Patrolling guards, their polished armor glinting under the moonlight, were a constant reminder of my imprisonment.

Frustration bubbled over. I slammed a fist against the door, the sound a muffled thud swallowed by the thick wood. A silent scream ripped through me, a strangled cry of desperation. Then, a sound - the unmistakable cadence of marching boots, growing louder with each echoing beat.

Hope surged through me, a lifeline thrown across a churning sea. The guards were leaving! With trembling hands, I cracked the door open a sliver. The hallway was empty, bathed in an eerie silence.

This was my chance.

Adrenaline masked the pain as I bolted, pushing past the searing agony in my ankle. I rounded a corner, my foot colliding with a metal stand with a deafening clang. The sound hung in the air, a death knell for my escape.