Linyue and the others marched straight to her chamber—bloody, tired, and wet. As soon as they stepped inside, Linyue took off her cheeky fox mask.
Song Meiyu took one look at her and promptly exploded. "Oh, Sister Linyue!" she wailed. "That cut on your neck… your collar is soaked! Sit! Sit down! Bleed responsibly!"
Linyue didn't answer. Mostly because she was pretending not to hear. Perhaps she had gone temporarily deaf. Perhaps she had entered a peaceful out-of-body state. But Shen Zhenyu's judging gaze had no mercy. His arms were crossed. His brows were furrowed. He gave off an aura of a disappointed dad. She knew resistance was pointless. She gave a long sigh and sat down.
Song Meiyu inspected the wound on her neck and shoulder with great horror. "Did he do something to you?" she demanded, voice full of fire. "Why did he drag you off like that?"
"I don't know. Maybe an interrogation?" Linyue replied flatly. She herself wasn't sure whether she'd just been interrogated or taken on a scenic horse ride in the rain.
Song Meiyu gasped, hand slapping over her heart. "Are you okay? Did he threaten you?! Did he touch your hair?!"
"I'm fine," Linyue replied. "If he did, I would've poked his eyes."
Shen Zhenyu made a noise like a judgmental sigh, clearly not thrilled with any part of this story. He Yuying stood silently nearby, arms crossed.
Meanwhile, Song Meiyu was already in full battlefield medic mode. The way she fussed, anyone would've thought Linyue was halfway to the afterlife. She disinfected. She applied salve. She wrapped bandages. And she tied the end of the bandage with a bow.
Linyue looked down at it. Then back up.
Song Meiyu beamed. "Now your wound can heal in style!"
Before anyone could unleash more chaos—questions, comments or complaints—Linyue spoke up quickly, "Why don't we take a bath and rest first?" Her voice was calm. Measured. Firm.
Shen Zhenyu gave a reluctant nod. Song Meiyu, of course, couldn't resist a final flurry of instructions on how to properly care for the wound. "Don't scratch, don't sneeze too hard, don't reopen it, don't fight another giant demon tonight."
He Yuying raised a hand. "What if I sneeze?"
"You'll live," she replied instantly.
Eventually, the others went out of the room one by one.
The door closed. Silence fell.
Finally. Peace.
Linyue let out the deepest sigh of the day. Not from pain. Just... people.
...….
That night, after dismissing Princess Han, Shu Mingye dragged himself straight back to his chamber.
She'd said she came to thank him for freeing her brother from prison. That was it. No threats. No bribes. No awkward attempts to flirt. Which, obviously, meant she was hiding something.
He didn't buy it. But honestly, he was too soaked, tired, and sleepy to care. She could've said, "By the way, I poisoned the tea," and he probably would've nodded and gone to bed anyway.
After surviving a round of treatment and an even longer round of scolding from the palace physician, he finally collapsed onto his bed. A sigh of peace escaped him.
Morning came faster than it had any right to.
The reports came even faster.
Shu Mingye rubbed his temples while a soldier listed out the findings. The attackers had been soldiers from Shenlin, dressed in disguise. Of course it was Shenlin. They'd been suspicious for a while. Poking around, pretending to be polite while clearly sharpening knives under the table. Shenlin supported Shu Wenxu and the Emperor, which already told him everything he needed to know. The king of Shenlin had died years ago. Now Queen Shen and her son, Crown Prince Shen, were in charge of the state.
They had waited until he left the palace and sent those people to attack Shulin.
"Bold," Shu Mingye muttered. "Stupid, but bold."
Then came the second report. It was about Princess Fu Yuxin. The real one. Not the one who fought demons with a flute, gave zero details about anything, and seemed to think makeup and pie ranked higher than breathing.
Apparently, the real Fu Yuxin had run away to the west with a merchant. Eloped. So, that strange group came as a replacement. Shu Mingye stared blankly at the report. For a long time. Hoping the words might rearrange themselves into something more reasonable.
They didn't.
The group wasn't hard to track. Quite famous, actually. From Luyan. Disciples of Xuanyi Pavilion, known for medicine, not acting. Their master? The legendary healer Yin Xue. Apparently, they weren't assassins. Or mercenaries. They fought demons, healed soldiers, ran into danger instead of away from it.
So why were they here? Why did they agree to play princess? They didn't even use fake names. No disguise. Just marched in and said, "Hello, we're here to pretend to be royalty. Please point us to the good snacks."
None of it made sense.
By the time Shu Mingye finished reading the report, he realized his feet were already moving. Still sore, still bandaged, and still very confused, he dragged himself across the palace toward the courtyard where the chaotic not-princess were staying. Because, clearly, sleep was a luxury for people who were surrounded by theatrical maniacs.
The courtyard where Linyue and her group of chaos resided was tucked away in a very remote corner of the palace. Shu Mingye had never come here before and now that he had, he kind of wished he hadn't.
The place was… pitiful. Cracked tiles. Peeling paint. A garden that looked more like a haunted herb graveyard. He squinted at a sad bush that might've once been a flower.
Right. This must've been part of that embezzlement from the palace accountant. Linyue hadn't even complained about it. Not once. No dramatic sighs. No threats to burn the place down, yet. Maybe he should assign them a better place to stay.
When he reached the room, the door was already open. How thoughtful. No need to knock or wait. He stepped right in.
Inside, the four were seated around a table, sipping tea. Their eyes immediately locked onto him as if he'd just tracked mud all over their floor. But Shu Mingye simply pretended not to notice.
Then he saw her.
Linyue. Her neck wound was neatly bandaged with a bow. He stared at the dainty little ribbon tied around the bandage. His mouth twitched.
… Cute.
Wait. Did he just think that?
He looked at her again, harder this time, trying to recalibrate. No, she wasn't the kind of woman people called beautiful. Her features were average. Plain, really. Not ugly, not stunning. Just… Linyue. It didn't matter anyway. Not important. Irrelevant. Absolutely not worth overthinking.
The four were still glaring at him. As if he were an uninvited guest in his own palace.
Fine. Let them glare.
Shu Mingye walked in like he owned the place (which he technically did) and took a seat in one of the empty chairs. He sat tall, calm, and dignified.
Linyue narrowed her eyes at the sight of the Demon King seated in her chamber at this hour. His face still looked pale, he hadn't recovered. Why did he even come here this early?
Her peaceful morning was gone just like that. She hadn't even taken her first sip of tea. If he dropped dead in here, it'd be her problem, wouldn't it?
She set her cup down calmly. "Lost your way to your own room?"
Shu Mingye blinked.
Song Meiyu choked on her tea.
Shen Zhenyu made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a cough trying to hide a laugh.
He Yuying failed entirely, sending a fine spray of tea across the floor.
"…No," he said slowly.
That was the first thing she said to him? No greeting? No "good morning"? Just accusations about his navigational skills? What exactly made her think he would get lost in his own palace?
Linyue leaned forward and said in that same flat tone, "Then why didn't you go back to your room? You don't look good." At least die in your own bed, she thought but thankfully, didn't say out loud.
Ah. So, she was worried about him?
He almost smiled. Actually, he did smile. A tiny, involuntary one. Warm. Stupid. Real.
Maybe she did care a little.
But then—
"We'll be the first suspects if you die here," she added calmly and sipped her tea.
…And there it was. The smile froze on his face, then slid right off.
Of course. That was her concern.
Murder suspicion.
Why would he expect anything else?