Linyue didn't even open her eyes. "I'm literally right here. Sitting in front of you all day and all night."
"But I can't even do anything," Shu Mingye complained with deep, tragic suffering voice.
"You can look," she said helpfully.
He groaned. "You know that's not enough."
Linyue finally opened her eyes and turned toward him, her calm expression softening into the tiniest smile. Then she leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. That alone was enough to make Shu Mingye's eyes darken with sudden excitement. His hands twitched like he was already planning his next move. But before he could pounce—because of course he would—Linyue raised a finger between them.
"I've trained enough for now," she said gently. "I want to poke it."
The mood did a backflip and landed flat on its face. Shu Mingye's smile dropped. "You want to poke it?"
She nodded.
"The array?" he asked carefully, like maybe she meant to poke a dumpling instead.
She nodded again. "Mhm."
Shu Mingye stared at her for a long moment, looking very much like a man being forced to choose between letting his beloved jump into a volcano or tying her to a tree.
After a long, tragic sigh and a dramatic pause for emotional effect, he finally said, "…Alright."
He did not look happy about it. Not even a little. Shu Mingye looked like a man seconds away from pulling his own hair out from stress. Still, he tightened his arms around her and rested his chin gently on her shoulder, as if silently vowing that if anything so much as twitched inside that array, he was ready to fight it with spiritual fire, teeth, and maybe even a frying pan.
Linyue gave him a warning. "Alright. Don't bother me. Don't poke me."
He chuckled softly near her ear. "I can't promise that."
She turned her head with a sharp glare, fully intending to intimidate him.
Unfortunately for her, Shu Mingye had long ago decided that every single thing she did was adorable. "That glare is so cute," he said, voice low and amused. "Keep doing it and you may not be able to meditate anymore."
Linyue, clearly used to being teased at all hours of the day, turned her head away. "I'll do it now."
"Like this?" he asked, slightly raising an eyebrow. She was still fully tucked into his embrace, his arms warm and heavy around her waist.
"It doesn't matter," she said lightly. "Master can even do it while walking. Or fighting. I should at least be able to do it like this too."
Shu Mingye gave a small laugh, but then his voice turned quieter and serious. "You didn't hate him?" he asked. "Even when he almost… killed you?"
Linyue stayed quiet for a moment. "I don't know," she said honestly. "He saved me. Raised me. Looked after me. And I'm still alive, after all. Maybe… he had a reason for it."
Shu Mingye sighed. He let more of his weight press against her, as if trying to keep her grounded just by being close. "You remember," he said gently, "he's still a suspect. Behind the chain of strange events lately. Crimson Bloodroot, experiments… all of it."
"I know." Linyue gave a small nod, her voice soft. "I hope he isn't."
He let out another long sigh, leaned his head even closer to her ear, and muttered, "Alright. Poke it. Before I change my mind."
Linyue smiled faintly. She adjusted her position and gently leaned her head against his chest. The steady sound of his heartbeat filled her ears. Warm and familiar. If she was going to poke some mysterious and possibly deadly spiritual array in her body, she might as well do it while as comfortable as possible. She closed her eyes.
Time to poke it.
Linyue gathered her spiritual energy slowly, shaping it thread by thread until dozens of fine strands formed. Each one was as thin and precise as a spider's web. Actually, if any spiders were watching her right now, they might feel a little offended. She was clearly out-spidering them. Before, she could only manage a few weak strands. Barely enough for a very confused, one-legged spider. But now she was weaving like an overachieving spider.
The delicate threads slipped inward, spreading quietly through her meridians. Smooth and steady. They moved deeper and deeper, heading straight for the place where she had sensed the mysterious arrays before. This time, it was clearer. The pattern shimmered slowly. Overlapping circles glowing faintly, pulsing with spiritual energy she immediately recognized. Her master's. Familiar, but there was something about it that felt off, suspicious.
She didn't stop. The spider threads went deeper, following the spiraling pattern that seemed to twist toward the center of her heart. She carefully guided her spiritual threads along it, weaving past curves. The spiral ended at her heart, where the array formation opened like a blooming lotus. Soft, intricate, glowing gently in her spiritual sense. She paused. The array didn't fight back. Didn't attack or try to block her. It just sat there, like a quiet guardian curled up in her chest.
From all the scrolls and books she had read (including Array Techniques for People Who Can't Stop Touching Things and Beginner's Guide to Not Exploding Yourself), she could tell this wasn't a trap or a bomb. It wasn't destructive. Not even a little bit threatening.
It was a protection array. One that stabilized spiritual energy, probably to keep hers from going wild. At least it wasn't trying to fry her organs. That was a win. But why had her master put that array inside her? And more importantly, when? Was it during nap time? One of those long meditations? Had he snuck it in while feeding her soup? That would be peak betrayal. Spiritual sneak attack between spoonful. And how had she not noticed it until now?
Her best guess was that it was to protect her from the weird condensed ice-like spiritual energy that had built up inside her. But still, he never told her. He hurt her. And yet, he also saved her. Looked after her. Her master was complicated. The kind of complicated that made her want to hug him, then throw a scroll at his head, then hug him again.
She sighed inside her mind and decided to let that question rest for now. Because right below that beautiful lotus array, there was another one. This one wrapped tightly around her meridian like a glowing net of golden threads. Like a barrier. It pulsed gently, protective, almost motherly. She tilted her head slightly in thought (physically, her body probably just wobbled a little in Shu Mingye's embrace, who was surely now panicking on the outside).
Another array. Another layer of protection. So either her master had really loved her… or he had just never trusted her not to set herself on fire.
She went further very carefully. Toward the array that actually trapped her spiritual energy. She remembered her promise to Shu Mingye. Don't poke it. She had even said it herself like a responsible Pie. But the energy coming from that array… It felt familiar. Like her master's spiritual energy… yet also not. It was similar, but not the same. Like twins with different fashion sense. She couldn't explain it. Her curiosity itched like an unscratched mosquito bite. So, just a little deeper. Just a tiny peek.
She held her breath (mentally), steeled her nerves, and sent one small spiritual thread forward. Not even a poke. More like a polite tap on the door.
Wrong move. The array snapped to life. A huge shockwave erupted from it, spiraling through her body like a vengeful tornado. Her spider-web threads shattered instantly, and white-hot pain crashed over her, sharp and unrelenting.
"Ah," she thought grimly, "so this is how dumplings feel when thrown into boiling water."
She tried to pull back but it was too late. Her body trembled, and the pain slammed into her like a thousand angry aunties with sticks. Outside, Shu Mingye probably felt it too. Oh no. He was definitely going to yell. And then set something on fire. Possibly the carriage. Possibly her. She had maybe five seconds before her overprotective king exploded.