Jinai’s next days were divided between the gym, the doctor’s, and catching up on cooking. Then on Saturday, eight in the morning almost on the dot, a measured knock sounded on her door—unmistakeably Anqien from its cadence.

She picked up her sling bag and opened the door, one forearm against the door frame. There stood her teammate with their jacket tied around their waist and one finger twirling a lock of hair.

“Morning, Anqien,” Jinai said, waving her free hand, before marching past them onto the top of the stairs. When they didn’t follow, she stopped and turned back. “You coming? We’re headed to the park, aren’t we?”

Their head whipped around. “Oh, uh, could we have breakfast first?”

Jinai grinned. “Were you so excited to get here that you forgot?”

A sheepishness swept over their face that she couldn’t help chuckling at. “Yeah, oops.” They wove their fingers together, gaze dipping until Jinai slapped them on the shoulder and steered them out to the top of the stairs.

She shook her head. “We can drop by the grocery store first, come on.”

“That works! That works.”

They strolled down the pavements of the Ni’an ward, in the shadows under the blossoming trees and the flutter of birds on their branches. The sunlight was tinted rose gold, every street aglow with anticipation.

Anqien seemed to find a thing worth pointing out on every block: a wall whose bricks were heavy with creeping vines, a noisy bird’s nest on an overhanging pear tree, a damp ditch in the tar where moss had begun to grow. Jinai wondered, as they went, at all she did not see when she was flying through these streets on her bicycle, and even moreso at her companion’s endless joy for these oddities. But none of these things could very well be here by next week.

“It’s weird, isn’t it,” she said then, “how things are always moving and changing. And how this is the combination of things we’re seeing right now. Because it’ll never be exactly like this again.”

Anqien cocked their head to a side. “I haven’t thought of that. But yeah, every moment is different, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, though it doesn’t always feel that way.” Jinai glanced out at the far side of the road.

At the corner where her usual grocery store overlooked the road, she could see that it was Sumare at the counter once again, perking up and waving as they watched the pair emerge from the lee of the building.

“What, both Cloudlanders?” they exclaimed, hands flurrying over the counter. “Welcome, welcome!”

Anqien had made straight for the cabinets of baked goods on arrival, so Jinai fielded the conversation. “Yeah, we were gonna go out to the gardens, but this little goofball here forgot their breakfast,” she replied.

Sumare laughed, casting a glance across the shop at said goofball. “Well, you’ve come to the right place for breakfast,” they replied. “The gardens are nice at this time of day. What’s the occasion?”

“Not much, just a little hangout before the usual Saturday training session.”

Hovering around the bakery corner till now, Anqien finally came up beside Jinai, presenting a custard bun and a fruit pastry in a paper bag to Sumare. Meeting their eye, the cashier seemed more than a little startled, then flustered, fumbling as they popped the register open.

“Two!” they blurted. “Two kuai.”

“Only two?” Anqien seemed about as surprised as Jinai felt. “I would’ve gone and gotten more.”

Jinai fixed Sumare with a glare. “Hey. Hey, why does Anqien get them cheaper?”

“Huh?” Now Anqien turned to her. “Do I?”

Sumare cleared their throat and flicked their braid back over their shoulder, smiling earnestly. “Two kuai, just for you,” they doubled down, and Jinai caught them shooting Anqien a wink. Again some fierce compulsion—to swat their gaze away, to keep their hands off of her teammate—reared up like a sea beast baring its teeth.

She folded her arms and stepped away.

The price paid with profuse thanks on Anqien’s part, they departed the shop all too hastily, and were quickly underway in the direction of the garden. Jinai’s companion had dived headfirst into their heavily discounted confection and munched merrily away, until they took their last turning off the winding side alley and onto Garden Street.

The garden was the main attraction of the sleepy Ni’an ward, spanning almost the entire length of the street named after it. The closest of its entryways peered at them from the next block southwest—an arch decorated with lattices of woodwork and vines. The two came to a stop across the road from that arch. Jinai, with a moment’s glance, sprinted through a gap in the traffic before the rolling wheels of carriages. Anqien yelled as she took off, and she heard the frantic patter of their footsteps behind her.

The sunlight scattered through the leaves as they passed under the archway and into the garden. As if they had stepped through a portal, it no longer looked like the city of Wulien, but some nameless faraway paradise. The trees and hedges grew together—hibiscus, bluebells, and roses, sprinkled with buds and flowers. Prolific bamboo stands outlined every walkway. Vines were draped in curtains on intermittent trellises, concealing the garden from the view of buildings.

At once their voices fell to a hush, so the birdsong and rustles could take their place. There was a sacred quality to the air as it wafted by, heavy with the scents of blossoms.

“You live right beside this?” Anqien whispered.

Jinai nodded. “I jog past it every other day.”

As they forayed in, they passed a scattering of other visitors on the paths, all turning out for the first warmth of the year. At each turn, they returned waves and bows, while others’ eyes lit up with recognition.

It was the first time Jinai had paid this much attention to the place since she had begun to visit. Trees that had been next to bare as winter had petered away were now verdant with buds and blossoms. Everything glowed in this new light, slanting yet bright, reminiscent of less bitter times. And at every turn Anqien pressed forward, wide-eyed and transfixed, as if seeing flowers for the first time.

The rush of water pulled their senses in. Glancing at each other, they wandered in the direction of the sound till they reached a lush brook that ran through the landscape alongside a pebble-littered pathway. Branches swayed over the water, and the dappled reflections played on the ripples. Stonework lanterns sat perched atop smooth boulders, the current flowing around them and their gentle firelight.

They stood transfixed, both pairs of feet still on the cobblestone. When Jinai turned, Anqien was gazing about at the scene, a small smile playing on their lips as the dappled light danced over their face.

Maybe because she didn’t let herself, she hadn’t thought often enough about how pretty they were—long eyelashes over dark eyes, and straight, flowing locks tipped with teal, framing their sun-kissed face.

They turned to her. “I can’t believe this has been here the whole time,” they murmured. “It’s gotta be the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in Wulien.”

Jinai laughed under her breath. “Pretty sure I’m looking right at the most beautiful thing in Wulien,” she replied.

Their eyes widened and they started glancing frantically over their shoulders, while she smirked. Their mouth opened, emitting no reply, and then closed again, though the fierce flush of their face said everything.

“Come on, you know I'm talking about you.”

Their eyes darted to their feet. “Uh, ah, th—” they sputtered.

“What, it’s like you’re not used to it.”

“It?”

“Flirting,” she replied.

“Oh! No, I’m not!” They laughed shakily, though there was no way they were displeased. “Give me a moment.” Then they turned away and sucked in a huge breath, hands clutching their cheeks.

“It’s fine, I’ll stop teasing,” she chuckled, rubbing their shoulder while she became conscious that she was also enjoying it—flustering them with compliments.

This isn’t fair to them, the thought hit her.

Huffing out a breath, Anqien wordlessly resumed walking, and Jinai followed them across the nearest bridge over the creek, the conversation going briefly silent between them.