Shu Mingye stared at her.
She stared right back, perfectly calm, perfectly serious, as if every word she had just said made flawless sense.
Drink demon blood? Bathe in it?
Did she truly believe that? Did anyone? Was her brain wired differently from the rest of humanity?
Around them, the other three were collapsing. Song Meiyu had stuffed her entire sleeve in her mouth, muffling squeaks of laughter that kept bursting out anyway. Shen Zhenyu had turned his head aside, shoulders trembling violently as he tried and failed to appear dignified. He Yuying did not even bother pretending, he slapped the table and wheezed, his face red with sheer delight.
Shu Mingye turned slowly back to Linyue, his voice dangerously calm. "Did you really think I drink demon blood for breakfast?"
"I didn't think," Linyue replied with complete honesty. "It's what I heard."
At that point, he truly had no idea what to say, or do, or even be in this moment. And strangely enough, she reminded him of someone. A strange friend he had accidentally made four years ago. That person had also lived by a simple, chaotic motto: Logic is for other people.
Shu Mingye sighed, long and heavy. Then, to his own astonishment, his lips curved into a smile.
Linyue, still believing she was being perfectly reasonable, tilted her head. "So, did you take a sip, two sips, or—"
"Unfortunately, no," Shu Mingye cut in, shaking his head slowly, each word heavy with disbelief.
"Ow, mission failed," Linyue said at once, her tone almost cheerful.
She didn't look regretful at all. Not even a flicker of guilt. No apology, no second thoughts. Just calm, collected nonsense radiating from her like a natural aura.
Shu Mingye squinted at her. Was she truly this clueless, or was she running the longest, most elaborate prank in history? There was no way the emperor had given her anything that could possibly be good for his health or cultivation. That man's schemes were never that simple.
Still, Linyue wasn't stupid. Odd, yes. Mysterious, certainly. Possibly allergic to common sense. But not stupid. Sometimes, it felt like she just pretended to be dense to avoid responsibility, as if pretending not to know was her favorite weapon. Confuse people long enough, and eventually they gave up and surrendered.
He leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "Do you still have it?"
"I do," Linyue replied without hesitation.
Without a word, Shu Mingye picked up his teacup and shoved it across the table toward her. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of a challenge. "Put it here."
It wasn't just a request. It was a dare. A test. Or perhaps the single worst idea he had ever had.
Would she really do it? Until now, none of this bizarre group had tried to harm him. But he also couldn't rule out the possibility that one day they would accidentally blow him up while attempting to brew tea.
The table went silent.
Shen Zhenyu blinked once, slowly. Song Meiyu's hands clenched into excited little fists, like she was seconds away from cheering. He Yuying leaned back in his chair, probably already calculating exit routes.
Linyue glanced at the cup… then at Shu Mingye… then back at the cup again. She tilted her head slightly. Possibly calculating tea volume, possible dosage, and moral ambiguity. Then, without a flicker of hesitation, she extended her hand toward Song Meiyu.
Song Meiyu blinked at the hand in front of her, then looked up into Linyue's eyes. For a beat she froze, then gasped in realization. "Oh. Right."
She reached into one of the many mysterious pockets on her waist and pulled out a small vial filled with clear liquid.
Linyue took it and poured the entire contents of the vial into Shu Mingye's tea. Not half. Not a cautious splash. The entire thing. She didn't even add flair or drama. Just a neat, practical pour.
Then she slid the cup back across the table to him. "Here," she said in her most pleasant voice. "Enjoy."
Shu Mingye stared at the tea.
So, she was serious.
He glanced up at her again. Her face hadn't changed. No guilt. No hesitation. Not even a polite "hope you survive this."
He let out a long sigh. This was the same woman who had helped him and his people escape the imperial palace, risked her life fighting demons… and now was apparently trying to "nourish his body" with fake potion-tea that sparkled in a way tea should never sparkle. What exactly was he expecting from her?
He stared back down at the cup. It glittered at him mockingly. Fine. If drinking this cursed tea was what she wanted, or a challenge. Then he would accept it.
I've drunk worse things. I've been poisoned more than once. My cultivation is high enough. It probably won't even kill me instantly.
Armed with that very healthy internal logic and a completely reckless mindset, Shu Mingye lifted the cup. And he downed the entire thing in one smooth gulp.
He looked at her again. Still nothing. Just… Linyue. Calm. Unreadable.
Shu Mingye placed the cup back down on the table with a deliberate clack. Then he stood, his movements sharp, turned on his heel, and walked straight out without saying a single word.
Behind him, chaos immediately broke loose.
"…He didn't take the herb scroll," Song Meiyu announced helpfully. After a thoughtful beat, her eyes lit up with curiosity. "Wait. Did he think you poisoned him?"
He Yuying slumped against the chair with a sigh. "This is it. This is how the Demon King dies. Death by tea. I always knew it would be food-related."
Linyue calmly picked up a dried plum, popped it into her mouth, and spoke around the chew. "How do I know what he thinks?"
"He looked angry when he left," Song Meiyu pointed out, glancing nervously toward the door as though Shu Mingye might storm back in any second and chop their heads off in a fit of misunderstood rage.
Linyue didn't even blink. "Doesn't he always look like that?"
Song Meiyu paused, considered, then nodded slowly. "True."
Her gaze drifted downward, landing on the very long, painfully long, unreasonably long list of herbs sprawled across the table. "So… about the herb…" She said slowly. "It's our problem again now, huh?"
The other two turned their heads toward the scroll with the exact same expression. Equal parts dread, misery, and the quiet knowledge that this would take lifetime to finish.
Before despair could glue them to their seats, Linyue suddenly clapped her hands and announced cheerfully, "Let's go… to find lotus seed pie! It's a southern specialty."
Song Meiyu brightened immediately. "Oh, I'm in."
He Yuying popped another dried plum into his mouth and nodded. "Better than herbs."
Shen Zhenyu sighed deeply. There was no stopping her. No one could ever follow the logic inside Linyue's head. If her mind were a road map, it would be nothing but dead ends, roundabouts, and loop-de-loops with no exits. And yet… they still followed. Because what else could they do?
Linyue changed into a high-collared outfit to cover the bandage on her neck, tied her hair into a simple ponytail, and stepped out of her chamber. The others were already waiting outside, looking like a group ready for battle, if the battle involved snacks and, inevitably, chaos.
And with a new kind of excitement, they set out from the palace. Not to save the world. Not to complete a secret mission. But to hunt down dessert.
The market streets were loud and lively, buzzing with life and chaos. Vendors shouted about miracle elixirs that were definitely fake, children ran past with hands sticky enough to glue a sword to a wall, and one man was trying very hard to convince a skeptical crowd that his two-headed chicken could predict the weather.
Linyue paid attention to none of it. Her eyes were locked on one single goal: snacks. She cut through the crowd in a straight line. Well… mostly straight. She zigzagged twice, distracted once by a colorful fan and once by a dog carrying a cabbage. But eventually, she reached the stall selling lotus seed pie.
The pies were golden, flaky, and warm, practically glowing like treasure. Linyue bought a generous stack. Naturally, Shen Zhenyu was the one who handed over the money. The group retreated to the edge of the street, pies distributed into waiting hands. For a blissful moment, they chewed in silence. Peace. Warm pastry. All was right with the world.
Until Linyue, mid-bite, said casually, "Let's find the herbs now."
Song Meiyu almost choked. She clutched her pie to her chest and whispered, "No…" A single dramatic tear sparkled at the corner of her eye.
He Yuying, who had just shoved his fifth pie into his mouth, actually did choke. He staggered sideways, wheezing, patting his chest with one hand while refusing to let go of the pie with the other.
Shen Zhenyu simply nodded.
Linyue smiled faintly, completely unfazed. "The faster we find them, the faster we can leave. We're not staying here forever."
Defeated, the others nodded. But before they left, they made sure to complete the most important step of any tragic herbal expedition: more pie. They bought enough to survive for at least a week. Song Meiyu stuffed extras into He Yuying's sleeves like hidden weapons. Shen Zhenyu ended up carrying the rest, neatly bundled in white cloth. No one asked him, no one explained. They just loaded the pies into his arms.
And with that, weighed down by herbs they hadn't yet found and pies they absolutely had, the group marched back into chaos.