The night air was warm, perfumed with street spices and river mist. For the first time in weeks, Ziyan allowed herself to laugh.
They had gathered on the rooftop of their rented quarters—a crooked old residence perched between a dying temple and a merchant's dye shop. There was little privacy, but tonight, the sky was theirs.
Feiyan brought out stolen plum wine. Shuye found street snacks wrapped in lotus leaves. Ziyan managed to borrow a stringed zither and plucked out a clumsy tune. Even Lianhua, sitting slightly apart from the rest, allowed herself a small smile.
"To Lord Li Jun," Feiyan toasted, lifting her cup high. "May his name rot from memory."
They drank, and it felt real.
Not just the victory. The freedom.
For the first time, they were no longer running. No longer hunted.
Ziyan leaned back, the breeze tugging loose strands of her hair. "Rulan was true to her word," she said. "The deed, the token, the name for the shop. We can start soon."
"A teahouse," Shuye said. "It feels... mundane."
Feiyan snorted. "And you'd rather hide in a brothel again?"
Lianhua glanced at them, her eyes shadowed. "A well-placed teahouse can be more dangerous than a palace guard post. People speak more freely over warm cups and sweet rice cakes."
"She's right," Ziyan said. "This will be our front. For money, for whispers. For something that lasts."
A silence settled then, not heavy, but thoughtful. They were standing at the edge of something vast and unknown.
Lianhua set her cup down. "You all know my story now, I suppose."
They turned to her.
"My family ran a silk shop near the Azure Canal," she said softly. "My father traded dyes. My mother managed the ledgers. We weren't rich, but we were stable. Proud."
She stared at her hands, folded in her lap. "Then came Li Jun. Or rather, one of his agents. They offered us a state contract. Said we'd be part of the royal textile tribute. My father was cautious, but greed is a slow poison. He agreed."
Feiyan listened with lowered eyes.
"We produced the order," Lianhua continued. "On time. High quality. But they rejected it. Claimed the dye was off, the silk too thin. Fines followed. Debt. Then seizure. Our shop was burned in a 'freak accident.'"
Her voice didn't waver.
"My father died in debt. My mother fell ill. I was sold to cover what remained."
A long silence followed.
Ziyan placed her cup down gently. "You were never meant to be there."
Lianhua smiled bitterly. "I adapted. That's what people do, isn't it? When the world takes everything."
"But now it's different," Shuye said. "You got justice."
"Did I?" she asked. "The man who destroyed my life is dead, but the laws that let him do it still breathe. The court still smiles. The Empress still drinks her tea."
Ziyan reached across the space and touched her hand. "Then change it with us."
Lianhua looked at her, uncertain.
"We can't topple an empire," Ziyan said. "But we can start by surviving it better than they expected. By making cracks where there were none. One whisper at a time. One ledger entry. One stolen secret."
Feiyan raised her cup again. "To the teahouse."
Lianhua exhaled. "To steam and secrets."
They drank.
The next morning came quietly. The building granted to them by Duan Rulan stood on the fringe of the artisan quarter, near a street known for its storytellers and gamblers. The front windows were cracked, the walls dusty, but it had good bones.
Ziyan paced the space with Lianhua beside her.
"We'll need new flooring," Ziyan said. "And a false panel under the counter. For messages. Or weapons."
Lianhua nodded, already making notes. "The kitchen can be divided. One side for brewing, one for private meetings. We'll need staff. But not too many."
"How much silver do we have left?"
"Seventy taels. Enough for repairs. Barely."
Feiyan and Shuye entered with bundles of supplies. Feiyan looked around, then smirked. "Home sweet den."
Shuye nodded. "It'll do."
As they worked, Lianhua moved like she belonged. Her commands were quiet but efficient. She calculated materials, negotiated with suppliers, even arranged for discounted paint from a former Pavilion client who owed her a favor.
At midday, Feiyan caught her pausing by the window.
"You okay?"
Lianhua shrugged. "Just... surprised. I never thought past Li Jun."
Feiyan leaned beside her. "None of us did."
A pause.
Then, softly, Lianhua asked, "Do I really belong with you?"
Feiyan grinned. "You just threatened a paint merchant into giving us three crates for half price. You belong more than I do."
Lianhua laughed—a real laugh, startled and quiet.
That night, as the sun dipped over the capital, they gathered once more inside the dusty teahouse.
The tables weren't built. The windows still cracked. But there was warmth.
Ziyan stood at the center.
"We came here to survive. Now we build. Not just a shop. A future. For us. For what comes next."
Feiyan raised a lantern.
"Let them come."
The flame danced.
The Phoenix, reborn in shadows and tea.