Extra: Grass under the eaves of the palace
Shui Rong saw Daiyu for the first time in the snowstorm the night before Rongguo Mansion was captured.
She stood at the edge of the firelight holding the collection of poems, like a bluegrass that could be broken at any time.
"Come with me," he took off his mink fur and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders, "at least you're alive."
He gave her fine clothes, fine food, and countless favors, but she remained silent day after day.
Until she drew a line of poetry in the dirt with her fingers in the most remote courtyard of the palace:
"I am a grass and a tree, not worthy of a wealthy family."
Shui Rong suddenly understood - what he trapped was not the canary, but the freedom that would rather wither in the wildfire.
That night he smashed the jade bracelet that was about to lock her and pushed open the red door:
"Let's go. Go to the wind and snow you want."
And she smiled at him for the first time and gently placed a grass seed in his palm:
"It will grow into a spring you never knew existed."
