Linyue stared at their joined hands, baffled. What was this supposed to be? Another one of Shu Mingye's strange interrogation methods? She vaguely remembered him doing this after their last demon fight too. Was this his version of a lie detector? Hold hands, stare deep, and wait for the truth to fall out?
She sighed quietly. Well, whatever it was, at least his hand was warm and didn't smell like rotten fish soup. Small blessings.
Behind them, the rest of the group had slowed down, each wearing the same unspoken expression: What in the dramatic hand-holding ceremony is going on here?
"Is she in trouble?" Song Meiyu whispered, leaning closer to He Yuying.
He Yuying didn't even glance at her. "Well, she hasn't done anything. Yet," He replied in his usual bored tone, arms crossed. "Though with Sister Linyue, doing nothing has a fifty-fifty chance of starting a national crisis."
Shen Zhenyu squinted and kept walking. His eyes never left the pair in front, as if fully prepared to tackle Shu Mingye to the ground if he tried anything suspicious. Possibly with a flying kick.
Song Meiyu suddenly slapped her palm against her mouth. "Ahh! Was it because of the tea? I remember he stormed out of the room in anger!"
"Anger?" He Yuying looked doubtful. "Are you sure? Didn't Sister Linyue say he always looks like that?"
Shen Zhenyu's lips twitched, but he stayed silent, his gaze still locked on Shu Mingye's back.
Song Meiyu blinked rapidly, trying to think it through. "That's true. But maybe he misunderstood something."
"Misunderstood what?" He Yuying asked flatly.
Behind them, the wind stirred gently. The grass rustled. Birds sang innocently. Everything was peaceful, except for the fact that Shu Mingye, who was still walking ahead hand in hand with Linyue, heard every single word. Yet he didn't turn around. He didn't say anything. He didn't strangle anyone, although the thought briefly passed through his mind. Instead, a vein pulsed at his temple, making his silence even louder.
So, at least one of them had common sense. Good. But what was that part about Linyue saying he always looked angry?
His eyes narrowed. Slowly, he tilted his head and gave her a sideways look. She, of course, was staring very hard at the horizon, expression blank, pretending not to notice. As if she wasn't the very person casually accusing him of having a permanently grumpy face.
Interesting. And completely incorrect, of course.
He wasn't always angry.
…Just most of the time. Maybe.
He squinted harder. Linyue finally glanced up at him with a straight face and said casually, "It's true. That's your expression now. This morning. Yesterday. Also—"
So she did hear them whispering behind. He cut in sharply, clearly annoyed. "Fine. But that's because you fed me that tea."
"I didn't feed you the tea," she replied calmly, without even blinking. "You stole it."
Shu Mingye let out a noise that could only be described as pure despair. Somewhere between a groan, a gasp, and a whimper of disbelief. "So, helping me was part of the long-term murder plan?" he asked, rubbing his temple.
Linyue tilted her head, blinking innocently. "Murder plan? When did I plan to murder you? Unfortunately, you're not on the list." She added after a thoughtful pause, as if checking her schedule, "Yet."
Yet? Shu Mingye turned to stare at her. Did she really just say "yet" like she was still thinking it over?
Trying very hard not to raise his voice, he gritted out, "Then why—why in the world—did you put that suspicious thing from the emperor into my tea?"
"Didn't you ask for it?"
He kept staring at her, his brain doing cartwheels. "Yes, but I didn't think you'd actually do it!"
She frowned, clearly confused by his confusion. "Then why did you ask?"
For a long moment, he just stood there, staring. Common sense. Where was it? Did she leave it somewhere? Drop it in the cave along with her sanity?
He let out a long sigh, already defeated. "Fine. I'm the fool. I thought maybe, just maybe, you'd not do it. Or I don't know, throw the cup out the window?"
Linyue tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "Why would I throw away an innocent cup?"
Shu Mingye's mouth fell open. This was beyond him.
The tea? Possibly poisoned.
The logic? Definitely poisoned.
And somehow, he was still the unreasonable one for drinking it.
He turned away and picked up his pace, boots crunching over dry leaves. Maybe if he walked fast enough, the mountain wind would blow the nonsense off him. Maybe the trees would offer sympathy. Or better, drop a branch on his head and end his suffering.
Behind him, Linyue's calm voice drifted up again. "And it wasn't the thing the emperor gave me."
Shu Mingye froze mid-step so suddenly that Linyue almost collided with his back. He turned around slowly, his voice came out low and dangerous. "Then what. Was. It?"
"It was just a healing elixir," she replied in her usual calm, emotionless tone, like she hadn't just caused him hours of mental torment, a near-existential crisis, and at least three premature gray hairs. "Nothing to fuss about."
Healing elixir? That was it?
Shu Mingye blinked. Once. Twice. His brain made a strangled noise inside his skull. Healing elixir. Just a healing elixir. Come to think of it… his wound had healed. Breathing was easy. His body didn't ache. Even his hand, the one holding hers, felt steady and warm despite her eternal ice-statue fingers.
Wait a minute. Was he really the unreasonable one here? Did he actually spend the entire day spiraling into paranoia, imagining poisons, schemes, love potions, laxatives, and slow-acting doom over medicine?
His voice came out flat, almost hollow. "…Are you serious?"
Linyue gave a small nod. "Of course. I told you, it would've been troublesome if you died in my chamber."
Oh. Right. That.
"And you didn't think to mention it earlier?" Shu Mingye asked, his voice tight, teetering on the edge between outrage and disbelief.
"You didn't ask," Linyue replied, tone steady and completely serious. Not a trace of irony. Just pure, cold, logical, Linyue-style chaos.
Shu Mingye stared at her, stunned. His brain screamed, his pride flailed, and for a full three seconds he forgot how to breathe. Then he laughed. Loud, sharp, unrestrained. The sound echoed across the forest and startled several birds into flapping away, squawking their complaints. Still chuckling, he turned and kept walking like he had officially given up on understanding life.
Linyue muttered, "What a lunatic."
Song Meiyu squinted after him, whispering, "What's wrong with him?"
He Yuying leaned in, voice hushed and suspicious. "Maybe Sister Linyue poisoned him. Not with tea. With her logic."
Shen Zhenyu, walking behind them, just let out a long-suffering sigh and shook his head.
After what felt like forever trudging through clingy vines, stubborn bushes, sneaky tree roots, and a path made of seventy percent mud and thirty percent regret, the group finally returned to where they had left their horses.
Still holding Linyue's hand, Shu Mingye walked straight to his horse and helped her up onto the saddle. Like always. As if dragging her from a haunted cave, a river of blood, and a human sacrifice conspiracy wasn't enough bonding time for one day.
He climbed up behind her and spurred the horse forward, galloping back toward the palace. The wind rushed past them, cool and sharp, but not sharp enough to distract him from the sight in front of him. Her hair. That tangled mop still crusted with blood. Lovely. Absolutely delightful. He made a sound of suffering and tried to lean slightly sideways without falling off the horse. Then she shifted in the saddle, and he caught a glimpse of something beneath her collar. White bandages.
His brow furrowed. "Didn't you drink medicine too?"
"No. Unnecessary."
Unnecessary? Shu Mingye's brow twitched. He squinted at the bandages again. "Was that healing elixir from Xuanyi Pavilion?"
"Yes. Master Yin Xue gave us a lot before we left."
His brow climbed higher. "Those are rare. You should keep them for yourself."
Healing elixirs from Xuanyi Pavilion were no joke. Expensive. Precious. At least in Shulin. The one she had given him earlier had worked better than anything his palace physicians had ever made. He was almost offended by how effective it was.
Linyue only shrugged. "It's fine. We're the ones who hunted the ingredients. And Master Yin Xue loves beauties."
Beauties?
Wait. Was she… complimenting him?
His brain did a little somersault. A ridiculous sound escaped him—half giggle, half gasp—and he instantly wanted to throw himself off the horse and bury his face in the nearest patch of moss.
Linyue turned her head just enough to catch the dumb grin stretching across his face. Her eyebrow lifted with quiet judgment. "When I said beauties, I was talking about me," she said, perfectly serious.
The grin shattered into uncontrollable laughter. Not a polite chuckle. Not a royal smirk. A full, unrestrained belly laugh that echoed through the forest as they rode.
Did someone poison her brain into believing this? What kind of tea gave her that kind of confidence? She sat there, blood-streaked and seaweed-haired, declaring herself beautiful. Talking to her like a normal human being was impossible. Her logic came from another realm, possibly one where reality bent itself politely out of her way.
Still, his mood had lifted. Now that he knew she hadn't poisoned him, all the dramatic thoughts, the mental funeral speeches, the completely unnecessary arrangements he had rehearsed in his head… all of it vanished into the wind. He regretted spending the entire morning sulking like a suspicious old grandpa. Next time, he swore to himself, he would just ask her instead of spiraling into paranoia and drafting his own will in silence.
"Then," Shu Mingye said at last, wiping away a stray tear of laughter, "what are you going to do with that thing the emperor gave you?"