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    Summary

    Gaoshun stepped closer. “We will adjust,” he said simply.

    They would. Xiaomao and him. Xiaomao and Taomei and him.

    His girl. His apothecary to worry about. His survivor to care for.

    He found himself thinking of the years behind them, of the countless small moments. Zuigetsu leaning too close, voice soft with implication. Zuigetsu’s eyes following Maomao like she was the only thing in a crowded room that made sense. Zuigetsu’s stubborn insistence that she was his, even when he framed it as a joke. Gaoshun had assumed it was harmless, an indulgence turned sincere, a young man’s first real desire. He had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that desire would make Zuigetsu gentler, because he wanted her to stay.

    His mind replayed the earlier scene from different angles, searching for the moment where he might have prevented it. Had he missed signs? Had Zuigetsu’s courtship always contained this shadow? Had Gaoshun been so focused on guarding the throne from outsiders that he failed to see the threat within?

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