Shu Mingye wished desperately, that this was all just a dream. A long, cruel nightmare. Maybe he would wake up in his soft bed, with the morning sun shining through the window, his mother calling him gently, and his father standing tall in the courtyard, waiting to train swords with him. Maybe none of this had happened. Maybe—
But no. This was real. The blood, the screams, the pain, the silence. All real.
He closed his eyes and wished, more than anything, that he wouldn't wake up again. That he could just disappear. Sink into the darkness and never come back. But time kept moving, and eventually, his body stirred.
He opened his eyes.
Everything was white. White snow. White sky. Even the wind seemed pale as it howled through the frozen air. It was quiet.
He laid there in the snow, barely breathing. Blood soaked his clothes, warm at first, now turning cold. The iron smell clung to the wind. His whole body ached. Cuts, bruises, burns, too many to count. His eyes started to close on their own. Heavy. So heavy.
Then… footsteps.
His heart gave a weak thump. So they had come. The pursuers. The ones sent to finish the job. His vision blurred, but he didn't need to see. He could hear it. One set of steps, crunching softly over the snow.
The Prince and Princess of Han were already gone, escaped with what was left of their troops. King Han had stayed. He knew what was coming. They all did. The demons had broken through the outer third wall. There were too many. Too fast. Too cruel. Still, King Han stood tall. He fought—not to win, but to buy time. To hold the line so his children and people could flee just a little farther. Just a little longer. Even though they all knew it was hopeless.
And Shu Mingye… he followed him anyway. Not because he thought they could survive. Not because he wanted to die. But because King Han had once saved him. Back when he was nothing but a cold, exile—bloodied, starved, barely a shadow of a boy—King Han had given him shelter. Not out of politics. Not for power. Just kindness.
He treated him not as a prince, not as a weapon, just as a person. So this... this was the least he could do. But of course, his uncle, hadn't missed the opportunity. Shu Wenxu always struck when the enemy was weakest. He used the chaos to send assassins after him, to get rid of him completely.
Now here he was. Alone. Broken. Bleeding. Left to die in the snow.
Was this really it? After everything? After fighting so hard to stay alive and survive. After holding tight to the fire of revenge for so long. He hadn't even come close.
The footsteps got closer. Still only one person. Not in a hurry. Just… walking. Who walked through a battlefield like they were strolling through a garden?
Shu Mingye couldn't move. Couldn't lift his head. His body numb, but he could feel the person stop beside him. No words. No attack. Just silence. And for some reason, that made him even more afraid.
Then, a voice.
"Are you dead?"
Clear. Female. Ethereal, like a gentle breeze blowing across ice. Calm. Peaceful, even. But the words… completely wrong. Shu Mingye's brow twitched. His eyes, heavy as stone, forced themselves open. What kind of heavenly-sounding woman walked up to a dying man and asked that?
What he saw didn't make things any better.
A young girl, very young and very beautiful, was crouching beside him. Her face was calm. Like she had just stumbled on a sleeping puppy instead of a half-dead man bleeding out in the snow.
For a moment, Shu Mingye thought he might be hallucinating. Or maybe death was prettier than expected. She looked like a fairy. Or worse, a goddess of death here to politely escort him to the afterlife. She was dressed head to toe in black, like she had come from a funeral or was already planning his.
"Not dead yet," she said, almost to herself. There was a tiny sigh in her voice.
Was that… disappointment?
Shu Mingye blinked slowly. "Are you going to kill me then?" he asked, his voice a scratchy whisper.
The girl tilted her head. "Let's exchange," she said simply, as if they were bartering at a market.
She pulled out a small bottle and unwrapped something that looked suspiciously like a pie. Then, very carefully, she set them beside him like an offering.
Shu Mingye stared at her. "You want me to exchange my life… for that?"
"There's something under your shoulder. I want to exchange for that."
"…"
He didn't answer. Partly because he was confused. Mostly because he was now genuinely wondering if he had actually died and this was some strange post-death interview.
Was this how ghosts negotiated now? With snacks and vague requests?
"Is that a yes?" the girl asked lightly.
Then she leaned in and held his shoulder and waist, lifting him like she was helping an injured friend, not a man who might bleed out at any moment. For a second, it felt like she was hugging him. And strangely, he didn't feel uncomfortable. Not even a little.
A soft scent drifted up from her. Familiar scent. The scent of gardenia.
Gardenia after the rain.
His breath caught. That scent, he knew it well—his mother's favorite flower. Sweet, refreshing and cool, like early summer mornings in a memory long buried. It made his head spin, but not in a painful way. It was dizzying like falling into a dream. His eyes, his ears, even his nose, everything felt like it was tricking him.
Is this how it feels to die? he wondered.
She gently helped him lean against a nearby tree. Then like he wasn't even there, she crouched down, reached into the snow, and pulled out something small. She brushed the snow off and slipped it into her sleeve without a word. No thanks. No nod. No explanation. Like the near-dead man beside her was a tree stump.
Shu Mingye glanced at the pie and the small bottle she had left next to him. Then at her—already standing, already turning to leave without looking back.
Panic flared in his chest. His voice came out rough, desperate. "Wait."
She paused.
"Exchange it… with your company," he said. "Just for a bit."
Maybe it was a dream. Maybe she wasn't real. But if this was the end, he didn't want to be alone when it came.
She turned her head slightly, not enough to look at him. "I won't make a good company," she said flatly.
Shu Mingye let out a shaky breath. "It's fine." He just didn't want to be alone anymore.
She didn't move, just stood there. While he shivered against the tree, trying not to cough up blood.
"I might not live for long," he said, hoping to sound dramatic and pitiful enough to guilt her into staying.
She tilted her head. "Be confident. If you think you're going to die, then die. If you think you're going to live, then live."
"…That doesn't sound comforting at all," he muttered, giving her a weak chuckle.
She added, just as calmly, "I heard the cemetery in the north is cheap. You get a discount if you reserve in advance."
He blinked. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Was she comforting him… or encouraging him to die faster? What kind of nonsense was she saying?