"Lock her in the prison," Linyue said calmly. "Give her nightshade so she can't use spiritual energy to control more puppets. Poke her eyes if she resists."
Princess Han let out a scream of pure rage and fear. "YOU DARE—?! YOU MONSTER—!!"
Shu Mingye, nearly slumping against her, let out a weak chuckle. There it was again, her thing with eye-poking. Even half-dead, he couldn't help but be amused. If she ever poked his eyes, would it mean she cared?
Probably not. He shook his head and smiled, barely conscious now.
Linyue tilted her head to glance at him. His face was pale, his lips even paler. "Let's go." But his legs didn't move. His arm stayed wrapped around her waist.
"General Boyi," Linyue called flatly, not even turning her head. "Come help him."
Boyi, who had been standing awkwardly at the side, jolted to attention. "Yes, Princess!" He stepped forward quickly.
Before Boyi could even lay a hand on him, Shu Mingye stirred. His arm shifted from her waist to her shoulder, his fingers curling just enough to anchor himself. "I don't need him," he said, his voice hoarse but strangely stubborn. He leaned slightly against her and started walking.
Linyue stared at him, utterly speechless. Really? He was swaying like a tree in a storm, bleeding from what looked like twenty different places, and still wanted to act proud?
She sighed inwardly. Fine. If he wanted to keep his dignity, she would let him. If he wanted to die standing, that was his choice. She didn't argue. She just walked with him, matching his slow, stubborn steps. Though, honestly? It was a struggle.
He looked slender, all sharp lines and edges, but somehow she felt like dragging a whole mountain. Every step threatened to send her tipping sideways, her one-shoed foot slipping on the floor. How could someone built out of bones, sharp words, and years of unresolved trauma weigh this much?
Eventually, she had to slide an arm firmly around his waist, partly to support him, partly to stop herself from falling over.
The moment her hand touched his back, Shu Mingye's lips curved faintly. He didn't speak. He just kept walking, step by step, as if this was exactly how things were supposed to be.
This wasn't so bad, he thought hazily. Maybe he should pretend to collapse more often.
Behind them, Boyi followed closely, his hands half-raised ready to catch if his Lord fell over.
Linyue muttered under her breath as she struggled to keep them both upright. "Why are you so heavy…"
Shu Mingye's faint smile widened just a fraction, though he wisely said nothing. Some victories were best enjoyed in silence.
By some miracle or maybe just his ridiculous stubbornness, they finally made it to Linyue's chamber.
She exhaled, turning her head only slightly, her tone calm as ever. "General Boyi. Take him from here. I don't know where his chamber is."
"Yes, Princess!" Boyi answered at once.
Linyue felt Shu Mingye's arm slip from her shoulder as Boyi caught him. The second his weight was gone, she let out a quiet, relieved sigh and rolled her shoulder once.
"Good," she murmured in her usual even tone. "Now maybe my spine will recover."
She brushed imaginary dust from her sleeves, watching as Boyi struggled to keep Shu Mingye upright as they shuffled away down the corridor. Shu Mingye didn't even fight him. He just let himself be dragged away, still wearing that faint, smug smile like he had just won something important.
Linyue narrowed her eyes slightly at his retreating back. Whatever game he thought he was playing, he could keep it for later. Then, without a single glance back, she turned on her heel and entered her chamber. The others were probably still interrogating or mildly terrorizing Princess Han. That was their problem now.
Her problem? A bath. And then a nap. Preferably both. In that order. Hopefully, there would be no puppets, no screaming madwomen, and absolutely no half-dead Demon King clinging to her waist. Just warm water. A blanket. Maybe a snack.
Outside in the corridor, Boyi was practically dragging Shu Mingye toward his own chamber. The man was bleeding on everything. Boyi dared a nervous whisper. "Uh… Lord? Are you… alive?"
Shu Mingye's head lolled toward him. His lips curved faintly, the smile somehow both tired and dangerous. "Alive enough to be offended by the question."
Boyi nearly tripped over his own feet. "I… yes, of course, Lord."
"Good," Shu Mingye murmured, voice low and rasping. "Because if I were dead, I'd haunt you first for asking that."
Boyi made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh or a whimper.
Shu Mingye tilted his head back, letting Boyi do most of the work as they staggered forward. "Faster," he said lazily. "If we take too long, she'll think I collapsed somewhere pathetic. Like the stairs."
Boyi swallowed hard and picked up the pace. The sooner he got his Lord into bed, the sooner he could stop imagining the Princess' icy glare boring into the back of his skull.
Meanwhile in her chamber, Linyue wasted no time. She peeled off her blood-stained robes and stepped into the steaming bath, sinking in until the water lapped at her chin. She closed her eyes as the heat soaked into her bones. When she finally stepped out, she dressed in clean white robes with black trim at the collar and sleeves. Comfortable. Peaceful. Clothes made for civilized things like sipping tea and glaring at people from a safe distance. Definitely not for fighting or catching lunatics.
She sat down, towel-dried hair loose over her shoulders, and exhaled slowly. For one blissful moment, the world was quiet. No screaming puppets, no bleeding kings, no lunatic princesses shouting insults. Just silence.
If someone ruins this moment, she thought darkly, I might actually poke their eyes out.
The wound on her neck—courtesy of that ever-charming Petrified Corpse demon—was nearly gone now. Smooth skin again. No need for bandages or high collars anymore. Good. She had no interest in looking tragic. Her fingers reached for her favorite hairpin. Simple, elegant, and sharp enough to stab someone if necessary. That was when the door slammed open.
"Sister Linyue!"
Song Meiyu's voice hit first, followed by the rest of her as she nearly tripped into the room. "How is he? Is he okay?!"
Linyue hand paused mid-reach, and answered casually. "I don't know. I handed him over to General Boyi."
Song Meiyu froze in the doorway, her hands clutching the frame. "Why?!"
Linyue turned her head. "Because I'm not a walking medical bed."
Song Meiyu gasped. "But he was clinging to you like… like steamed bun to teeth!"
"He'll survive," Linyue said calmly, tying her hair back. "If not, I'll attend his funeral. You can sing."
Song Meiyu's jaw dropped. "Sister Linyue!" she shrieked.
"What?" Linyue blinked innocently. "He told me I could decide."
"He meant Princess Han! Not his fate!"
Linyue just shrugged. "He should've been more specific."
Song Meiyu let out a strangled sound and stomped into the room. She flopped onto Linyue's bed. "You're so heartless…"
"I just want a nap."
"You almost died, he almost died, there were hugs, and blue flame. How are you this calm?!"
"I bathed."
Song Meiyu let out a groan and flopped back onto the bed, clutching the blanket. "I swear, your blood is ice! Ice running through your veins!"
Linyue walked over and gently pulled a blanket over her. "Then be warm near me. Now let me nap."
Song Meiyu froze, her eyes going wide and sparkly. "…That was the most affectionate thing you've ever said to me."
"It wasn't," Linyue replied flatly, already climbing into bed.
"It was," Song Meiyu said, clutching her heart. "I felt it right here."
Linyue let out the world's longest sigh and flopped onto her side, pulling the blanket over her shoulder. "Fine. It was."
Song Meiyu immediately rolled over to face her, propping her head up on one hand like she was settling in for gossip hour. "Sister Linyue, do you really not care about him?"
"What do you mean by care?"
"You know," Song Meiyu said with a grand sweep of her hand, "like… do you feel something when he holds you? Or when he bleeds dramatically in your arms? Normal girl things?"
Linyue was quiet for a moment, blinking at the ceiling. Then she answered flatly, "He bled on my robes."
Song Meiyu froze. "…That's not the part I meant."
"What part, then?" Linyue asked, tilting her head slightly.
Song Meiyu sighed. "Sister Linyue, don't you think the way he treats you is… different?"
Linyue frowned faintly, her brows knitting. "How different?"
"He doesn't treat anyone else like that!" Song Meiyu waved her hands wildly. "He even held your hand. Hugged your waist! Do you realize how big of a deal that is? He barely lets anyone breathe the same air as him, and now he's practically glued to you!"
Linyue blinked again, looking genuinely puzzled. "…Maybe his hand slipped?"
"More than once?" Song Meiyu deadpanned. She sat up just to glare at Linyue properly. "Come on. Sometimes I feel like you're not from this world. Do you secretly live in another realm? One with no emotions, no love, just endless tea and cold logic?"
"Endless pie… and naps."
"Exactly! You're worse than I thought." Song Meiyu threw herself onto her back. "My point is… he likes you."