When the cup slid off the table and shattered upon impact on the floor, Cui-San knew it was over. Han-Xi braced the table's edge, his knuckles draining of blood. "How dare you lie to me?" he hissed. "I trusted you won't go down that path."

Cui-San swallowed against the lump in her throat, staring at the sharp shards of the broken teacup and the puddle of tea beneath them. "I write what I want to write about, Han-Xi," she said. "I trusted you won't nose in your way into my domain."

The tableware wobbled when Han-Xi shoved the table aside with a sucked breath. His hand rose to the air, aiming for her. She scrambled backwards, her heart hammering in her chest. Her gut was tight, her breaths coming out in hitches. A spell passed over Han-Xi. He sighed and rested his hand on his head instead.

"The only domain you have in this world," Han-Xi leveled his gaze at her. "Is by my side."

A derisive laugh burst out of her lips before she could think twice. She was just tired of all this. When she agreed to Han-Xi's proposal, she didn't imagine she'd get her voice silenced too. All because she wanted to speak about something he's uncomfortable with.

"In case you think you have something to hold over my head, that's where you're wrong," Cui-San shot up and let all the venom drain out of her voice. She didn't realize she had been holding so much back. "I'm not falling for your promises again."

She should have stopped there, should have mulled over what her own words meant. Instead, she continued. "You're nothing without me, Han-Xi," she pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Stop telling me it's the other way around. I can live without you and I will."

Han-Xi's eyes hardened. Time slowed to a stop as Cui-San watched him stand up. "I've tolerated you enough, my love," he said. "When a lamb grows a horn, it must be pulled out, before it starts thinking it's invincible."

He stared her down through narrowed eyes. "You've grown quite beautiful horms, Cui-San," he said. "Now, it's up to me to remind you who has the power to pull them out."

"What are you doing?" she called after him when he trudged out of the hall, passing her by in a hostile breeze. "Hey, get back here!"

Deaf ears awaited her words. She watched in horror as Han-Xi made way to her room. That's where her drafts were. If he got his hands on that...

Her fists clenched. No. She wouldn't let him. Even if she's powerless, even if she had to throw herself into a bed of nails, she wouldn't let him lay a finger on those sheets of paper. As Han-Xi threw open the door to her room, she lashed out with a scream.

His hand dashed from her periphery and slammed against her forehead, stopping her advance. With a forceful shove, he sent her crashing into the floor of her room. Pain shot out of her shoulder but she'd live.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, bracing the floor with her hand.

Han-Xi pointed a finger at the piles of written poems on her desk. "Cutting off your horns," he said.

Before her eyes, fire arose from nothing. Her eyes widened and whatever's going to come out of her mouth died in her throat. Tongues of flame devoured the pressed fiber with a hearty crackle, as if thanking Han-Xi for a delicious meal. Tears stung the corners of her vision, throwing a wet veil over her vision.

They're the product of the countless afternoons she spent with Qin-Lei, trying to grasp the woman's perspective and put them into paper. The new anthology was Qin-Lei's heart, merely expressed with Cui-San's words. The scholars would have devoured it and discussed it for the years and generations to come. What's so forbidden about it that Han-Xi felt the need to punish her like this?

Her breaths stilled into a light echo in her ears. Slowly, she hoisted her throbbing body up and faced Han-Xi. "You're a monster," she snarled. The flames died out on her table, leaving charred marks and a pile of ashes. A breeze blew from the east, scattering the dark particles of what once have been her words into the floor.

Han-Xi didn't say anything. His face was a mask of nonchalance and righteous anger. With a hard snap, he slammed the door to her room shut. She didn't hear the lock click, but he might as well have done so with the dark memories he placed on it.

She raised a hand to her face, letting its back run across her cheek. Her skin came away wet. She glanced at the ashes billowing across her room. My love, Han-Xi called her, and then he proceeded to do this. Love given and love received. They weren't the same. Because what was between her and Han-Xi...it wasn't love.

Far from it.

He already thought it was proper to torch her life's work. How long would it be before he thought it proper to burn her?

She had to get out of here. While she could.

She whirled to the door and shook her head. Not through that. If she's going to desert Han-Xi, it wouldn't be through the front door. Not the same way she agreed to enter this house and become trapped in it eventually. She dried her tears and sniffled. Her gaze locked into the windows punched into the wall of her room. That would have to do.

Cui-San peeked out of it, noting its distance from the porch and the long cut she would have to take out of the grounds. Not using the front door did have its hardships. But she didn't have a choice. This was the best course of action she could take.

With a soft grunt, she hooked her leg over the sill, letting it dangle outside. Then, with inexperienced maneuvers, she squeezed through the sliding shutters. When her shoulders were through, she threw her weight to the side, letting the earth's pull grip her body. She landed on the porch in a loud thud. Thankfully, her skirts muffled most of it.

She looked around, noting the different floors of this needlessly huge house. It was only her and Han-Xi as far as she was aware. And maybe that horned beast, but she hasn't seen it since she walked in on it that day. Whatever. That's the least of her concerns now. She's out of Han-Xi's life. Forever. She refused to be part of it any longer.

Her feet scratched against the grass and the stones laid on the pavement. A tree leaned dangerously close to the wall, making a smile pull at her lips. How she missed scaling them. The rough bite of their barks was still fresh in her memory when she gripped the trunk and began hoisting herself up. When she reached the point where wood met wall, she hooked a leg on the sweep and dragged her body off the tree. Then, balancing herself atop the wall on all fours, she jumped.

She tucked her limbs and landed with a roll. Her skirts had once again saved her a universe of pain. She craned her neck up at the property she just left. Good riddance. Her fingers gathered the teal fabric covering her legs in sweeping folds and hoisted it up. Then, she was running.

The alleys whizzed through her periphery, turning more and more familiar the farther she went. The wind tore at her hair which had fallen off its braids, flapping behind her like a flag fluttering atop the Imperial Palace's roofs. She rounded a corner and Qin-Lei's teashop edged into view. Unquantifiable relief washed over her. This was home. Here, she's safe.

Her fist clashed against the windows to the shop. It was ages after closing. Maybe Qin-Lei was sleeping now. Thankfully, she didn't need to wait long. The windows swung open, almost hitting her in the face as they screamed against the hinges.

"Cui-San," the woman breathed, ducking her head past the windowsill, looking this way and that to make sure she wasn't being followed. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't come here?" she quipped. "I just wanted to see you."

Her humor was lost on Qin-Lei. "You'll wake the whole shop up and we need to be early tomorrow," she said. "Spirits, I should be sleeping now."

A grin cracked Cui-San's lips open. "Then why weren't you?"

At that Qin-Lei snorted. "Perhaps I was waiting for a certain someone to show up against my wildest dreams," she said.

"Trust me," Cui-San brought her face closer to Qin-Lei's, relishing the way the woman's eyes never strayed from hers. In this world, it's only them that mattered. Nothing else. She lowered her voice into a whisper. "This is not a dream."

Qin-Lei tilted her head to one side and waited for Cui-San to do what she must. Something gold flashed in Cui-San's periphery.

"I have to say," Han-Xi's voice wrapped around Cui-San's limbs and froze them in place. Qin-Lei's eyes opened and saw the fear that's no doubt populating her own. "You've always found a way to worm your way into my sacred creation Tell me, is it because we're alike?"

What was this geezer talking about? She glanced at Han-Xi's form who was slowly advancing towards them. He wasn't looking at her. She followed the direction of his piercing glare and found them to rest on...Qin-Lei.

A familiar fear she couldn't place settled in her gut. She gripped Qin-Lei's shoulders, almost drawing her out of the window. "Run," Cui-San whispered. "I'll deal with Han-Xi here."

They didn't get to do anything as a blur of gold lashed between them. Within seconds, Han-Xi had a squirming woman in his grip, raising her feet inches from the ground. His face showed no signs of struggle, even when Qin-Lei's nails scratched and clawed at his hand around her neck.

Han-Xi clicked his tongue. A faint stream of moonlight bounced off his eyes. Instead of the usual green, a crimson streak shone. "No matter," he was muttering under his breath. "Just as I continue to create these worlds, I will hunt you down. In whatever shape or form you take, I will weed you out and make you suffer."

Cui-San lunged towards Han-Xi. "Let her go!" she said. "I'm the one you want!"

A light chuckle shook Han-Xi's shoulders. He turned to her. "You're right on that regard," he said. "But one thing stands in my way, keeping me from getting what I want. And for that, it must be eliminated."

In a flash, claws flexed out of Han-Xi's hands. Then, with a swipe, blood painted the night sky red.

A breath. Two.

Han-Xi released Qin-Lei and threw her aside. She landed on Cui-San's feet, her eyes staring unseeing at the sky she always adored. Maybe someday, I can reach it, the woman had once said. Cui-San had a poem written about that, about a soul transcending to the highest heaven and what the feeling of dreams come true must be. She still remembered the words, could still recite it from memory. Even if Han-Xi had burned her the physical manifestations, if she still had her mind, if she still have her recollection intact, she could write it again. She would write it again and make it better.

But now, as she wept over the lifeless body on her lap, what's the point? If she's expected to whither away inside an empty house with a monster, what's all this fighting and dreaming for? She turned to Han-Xi who looked at her with a flat stare. Blood still dripped from his fingers, watering the grass in scant splotches.

A pointed tip dug against her lap, making her look down on it. Qin-Lei's head had lolled to the side, poking Cui-San's flesh with a crude hairpin. Was that the reason why she had stayed up that late? Was she trying it on?

"Let's go," Han-Xi said. Just two words but they carried so much power and control. Before she could make sense of it, though, her hand flew towards the hairpin. She turned to Han-Xi for help as her hand developed a mind of its own. Her lips couldn't move, but she screamed the words in a space where she couldn't be heard.

Save me.

Don't hurt me.

Her fingers pulled the hairpin free. Han-Xi lunged. His fingers went as far as gripping her wrist. But he's too late. The point slashed against her neck, splitting the skin open and snapping a nerve into two. The last thing she heard before the heat and the cold warred for dominance over her limbs and consciousness was the shrill tinkle of metal against the grass.

And then, Maruma Cui-San was no more.