Night. The grandmother's room is small and cold. A single lantern burns on a low table beside her bed. She lies still, thin and ancient, but her eyes are open and sharp in the lantern light.

The door slides open. Zhaoyue enters, her dark robes rustling. She crosses the room and kneels beside the bed without speaking.

The night deepens. The grandmother speaks — quiet, her voice thin but steady. Zhaoyue listens with her cold stillness, but her hand does not release her grandmother's.

The grandmother continues her lessons. Her voice is thin but her mind is precise — these are the last words she will choose, and she chooses them carefully.

The grandmother pauses. Her breath is slower now. She looks at Zhaoyue with something that is not softness — it is recognition.

Zhaoyue's cold mask cracks — just slightly, just for a moment. The grandmother sees it. She has always seen everything.

The night. A long silence. The lantern burns. The grandmother's breathing slows, steadies. Zhaoyue does not move.

Memory — ten years ago. A younger grandmother at the map table, teaching. Young Zhaoyue sitting across from her, absorbing every word. The same cold room, warmer then.

Back to the present. The night has been long. The lantern sputters. Dawn is coming.

Dawn light enters the room — pale, thin, cold. It falls across the bed. The grandmother's chest does not rise.

The grandmother's face in death. The small smile remains. She died as she said she would — satisfied.

Zhaoyue alone. The room is quiet. She does not weep. She sits beside her grandmother and does not weep.

The house is quiet. Morning light fills the empty corridors. The Pei estate is still — too still.

The grandmother's body is prepared. Simple cloth, simple room. The Pei house cannot afford more.

The funeral. A small gathering — a few household servants who remained, a neighbor or two. The Pei house is still disgraced.

Zhaoxia appears. She stands at the edge of the funeral, in full white mourning robes. She has returned.

The sisters face each other. The funeral procession has stopped. They stand across from each other — the first time they have been in the same place since Zhaoxia's return.

Zhaoxia speaks. Her voice is quiet but clear. She does not accuse. She states.

Zhaoyue does not deny it. She has never denied it.

Zhaoyue confirms what Zhaoxia needs to hear. She will not apologize. She cannot.

Zhaoxia does not respond. She turns and walks to join the funeral procession. She stands beside her sister and does not speak again.

After the funeral. The house is empty. Zhaoyue stands in her grandmother's room one last time.

Zhaoyue prepares to leave. She takes up the Grand General's tally staff — the symbol of the power she has earned.

The northern gate. Zhaoyue on horseback, the tally staff held across her saddle. She rides north. She does not look back.