"She said to report that Princess Fu Yuxin died during the puppet attack. Heroically. In the chaos." Shanjun nodded seriously. "The urn was for her ashes."
Shu Mingye stared at him.
"And since the whole puppet disaster was caused by Princess Han and Queen Shen," Shanjun continued cheerfully, "the emperor can't blame you for his daughter's… untimely, ah, cremation. Genius, right?"
Shu Mingye's expression shifted into something unreadable. His fingers tapped lightly on his knee, each tap sharp and deliberate.
"She… faked her death," he said finally, his voice low.
"Yes," Shanjun confirmed with an enthusiastic nod. "And may I just say, the urn was very elegant. Black jade. Looked expensive. Very tragic."
Shu Mingye's face darkened.
She faked her own death? What was she planning now?
While he had been lying in bed, she had been stirring up the imperial palace, exposing conspiracies, toppling royals, and casually faking her own demise. All without breaking a sweat. Without even asking his opinion. He remembered her words, "We're going back to the east with Prince Lu."
Was she seriously going to just leave?
His jaw tightened. His hand curled over the edge of the bed. "Where's Boyi?" Shu Mingye's voice was low, dangerous. "What's taking him so long?"
As if the heavens and possibly a curse had summoned him, Boyi came skidding into the room. "Lord!" he yelped, nearly crashing into the doorframe. "The princess wasn't in her chamber, so I asked around, and apparently Prince Lu is returning to the East today. So the princess is go—"
He didn't even finish. Shu Mingye shot to his feet. In one sharp motion, he yanked off his robe and tossed it aside, already dragging on fresh robes at lightning speed.
"When did she leave?" he demanded.
Boyi blinked rapidly, his brain still lagging behind. "Uh… just now? Not long ago. Maybe—"
But Shu Mingye was already gone.
A gust of cold air followed him out the door.
Boyi and Shanjun stood frozen.
Then they slowly turned to look at each other, both wide-eyed and completely baffled. Their silent expressions clearly said: What just happened?
......
The morning sun was warm, the road neatly paved, and the group moved at a leisurely pace like they had nowhere urgent to be, which, for once, was actually true. Birds chirped overhead. A soft breeze played with the edges of their robes. It all felt very peaceful, unnervingly so. They were sending off Prince Lu, who was dramatically (as always) making his grand return to the East.
He turned suddenly, the sunlight catching his perfectly arched brow. "Shen Zhenyu, are you truly not going back to Shenlin?"
Everyone perked up at once. Even Song Meiyu stopped humming her cheerful travel song and leaned forward eagerly.
Shen Zhenyu's expression stayed calm, the wind tugging slightly at his sleeves. "No," he said simply. "I'm no longer a prince. I'm just Shen Zhenyu now. Disciple of Xuanyi Pavilion." He let the words settle, then allowed the faintest smirk to curve his lips. "And senior brother to a group of troublemakers."
He Yuying made a sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff. "Senior brother? Sounds more like babysitter."
Song Meiyu pressed a hand to her chest. Tears welled up instantly, glittering in her lashes. "Brother Zhenyu…" she sniffled, her lower lip trembling. "You always say the coolest things…"
Shen Zhenyu's lips twitched, but he said nothing.
Linyue turned her head slightly, her sharp gaze softening. "Brother Zhenyu, are you really okay?"
He met her eyes and nodded firmly. "Of course. Xuanyi Pavilion is my home now." His gaze swept over the group, pausing on each of them in turn—Song Meiyu with her watery eyes, He Yuying with his lazy half-smile, even Linyue with her calm, unreadable expression. Finally, he said with quiet certainty, "…And you are all my family."
"WAAAHHHHHH!" Song Meiyu immediately exploded into noisy, heartfelt sobs. "Y-You're so noble, Brother Zhenyu! I can't handle it!"
He Yuying, entirely unmoved, reached into his sleeve and pulled out a handkerchief. He held it out with a bored look. "Here. Wipe your tears before you drown us."
Song Meiyu sniffled hard, her eyes shimmering as she reached for it—then froze. Her fingers pinched the corner suspiciously. "Wait. Why is this… sticky?"
"Ah. Don't worry about it," He Yuying said vaguely, already turning away as if the conversation was over.
Song Meiyu's jaw dropped. "Don't worry about it?!" she shrieked, hurling the handkerchief at his head.
He Yuying caught it between two fingers without even turning his head, as though he had been expecting it all along. He glanced at her with the faintest smirk. "Good aim."
Meanwhile, Linyue only allowed herself the smallest, most amused smile. "Save your tears for when he actually does something impressive."
Shen Zhenyu let out a long sigh. "I take it back," he said dryly. "I'm disowning all of you."
But his voice was warm, and there was a rare, soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Linyue's gaze swept over them. Song Meiyu flailing with tear-soaked sleeves, He Yuying calmly chewing on something he had somehow pulled out of nowhere, and Shen Zhenyu pretending to be stern while his eyes gave him away. They were noisy, messy, endlessly irritating. And yet, against all reason, she liked it. For the first time in a long while, something inside her stirred. A strange, almost dangerous thought whispered through her mind: maybe… just maybe… there was something in this world she actually wanted to protect.
Maybe Song Meiyu had been right when she accused her of being emotionally stunted. A little harsh, but not wrong. It wasn't her fault. She had spent most of her life alone, quiet, invisible. No one to talk to. No one to protect. No one to care for. There were even days when the world felt like a long, dull play and she was the only one stuck in the audience, questioning why she even bought a ticket.
And yet, somehow these people barged in. Loud. Strange. Inconvenient. Unasked for. Somehow even louder. And now, here she was smiling wider than she realized, standing in the middle of their noise, their chaos, their utterly ridiculous existence and… feeling strangely content. Warmed by laughter that wasn't hers, but somehow belonged to her anyway.
Troublemakers. Every single one of them. But maybe… she was their troublemaker, too.
Just as the moment turned a little too warm and tender for comfort, Prince Lu ruined it, as always. "Linyue," he said, placing a hand over his heart, "why don't you come back to the East with me… and marry me?"
Song Meiyu gasped, offended on Linyue's behalf. "No way! Sister Linyue is ours! You can't just take her with you like a souvenir!"
"That's right. I'm not a souvenir," Linyue said flatly. "And not that I want to either."
Shen Zhenyu added without looking up, "She's rejected you at least a dozen times. Maybe you should take the hint and move on."
Prince Lu insisted. "She hasn't married anyone. She doesn't have a lover. Why can't I pursue her?"
"Because you're annoying," Linyue replied without missing a beat.
"Exactly," Song Meiyu nodded vigorously. "You're just enchanted by her beauty. You don't even know her true self."
Prince Lu straightened, his expression determined. "And what is her true self?"
Song Meiyu crossed her arms, her tone sharp. "A grumpy, nap-loving, tea-guzzling, pie-obsessed, emotionally stunted chaos machine who will absolutely poke your eyes out if you keep asking stupid questions."
Linyue didn't deny it. "Accurate."
Prince Lu faltered for half a second, then smiled even wider. "That sounds exactly like my type."
Song Meiyu groaned. "Hopeless. He's hopeless."
He Yuying smirked from the sidelines. "This is the man who fainted the first time she smiled. And she wasn't even smiling at him."
Prince Lu gasped in outrage. "That was a majestic smile! Anyone with a soul would've fainted!"
Linyue sighed. These people… they were loud, exhausting, and chaotic. Yet, against all logic, maybe they were everything she didn't know she needed.
"Should we try that spicy dumpling noodle place?" she asked seriously, ignoring Prince Lu entirely, like this was the most critical matter of the day. "I saw it when we passed by earlier."
Song Meiyu squeaked. "Yes, yes, YES! Spicy noodles! My soul needs this to survive!"
He Yuying's eyes brightened in a slow, lazy way. "I saw it too. It looked good and smelled even better."
Shen Zhenyu gave a small, quiet smile. "Alright. Let's go."
Prince Lu clasped his hands together. "She speaks of dumplings. She's perfect."
Linyue turned her gaze on him—flat, sharp, and carrying a very real threat. "I'm about to speak of poking your eyes."
Prince Lu flinched at first, then recovered with an idiotic grin that didn't suit a prince. "Fine! I'll let you poke them! And after that, you can marry—"