Shu Mingye, still holding her cold hand, gave it a gentle tug and pulled her a little closer to his side. His touch was firm, steady, but not overbearing. "I'll ask someone to fetch them later," he said casually, as if the others they had just abandoned were groceries he could pick up at his convenience.
Linyue gave one last glance over her shoulder, squinting suspiciously. "…Alright," she said slowly, clearly unconvinced.
Shu Mingye started walking again. His stride was slower now. Deliberate steps. Controlled pace. Maybe it was because his mood had oddly improved. Maybe it was the cold hand in his. Or maybe it was just because no one was currently throwing fire, curses, or chopsticks.
After a few quiet steps, he looked sideways at her. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, almost a smile. "Are you really not afraid?"
Linyue tilted her head, brows knitting slightly. Again with this question? "Afraid of what?"
He faced forward, his voice quieter but still carrying that edge of curiosity. "What if what that thing said was true?"
Linyue blinked. "That thing? You mean the prince?"
He nodded, completely serious.
Linyue shrugged. "Which part? The killing? The breaking? The chopping? Or the skinning?"
Shu Mingye actually let out a short laugh. The sound startled even him. Was she serious? She looked so calm and genuinely curious, like she was asking about soup ingredients, not gruesome crimes that could make a demon flinch.
He tilted his head, one brow lifting in quiet amusement and mild suspicion. "All of them. What if they're all true?"
Linyue didn't answer right away. She went quiet, thoughtful. A little too thoughtful.
Their footsteps echoed softly in the corridor, the faint whisper of wind tugging at the edge of her sleeve. She didn't pull her hand from his. Just walked beside him in silence, eyes distant, like she was carefully weighing an equation in her head.
Shu Mingye kept his gaze forward, trying to look calm. Inside, chaos reigned. Was she hesitating? Was she judging him? About to call him a monster? Or worse… about to yank her hand away, shriek, "Help, I've been holding hands with evil incarnate!" and bolt down the hall? Or… would she dodge the question entirely, like she often did, with something so ridiculous he wouldn't know whether to laugh or set the corridor on fire.
Finally, after what felt like forever, long enough that he was convinced he had aged a decade, she said seriously, "I think… he deserved it."
Shu Mingye—mighty, feared, known across the land as the Demon of Shulin—nearly tripped over his own feet.
Linyue continued without pause, completely unbothered. "Do not play with the lives of innocents. That's what I've been told."
The words made him stop in his tracks. He turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing. His voice, when it came, was quieter than before, stiff at the edges. "…Where did you hear that?" he asked. "Who told you that?"
Linyue gave the smallest shrug, her tone flat, almost casual. "My father."
Shu Mingye froze again.
Brain: blank.
Heart: confused.
Hands: still holding hers, by some miracle.
Her… father?
"You still have a—" The words slipped out before he caught himself and shut his mouth. Idiot. She already answered.
"Gone," Linyue said simply. Not sad. Not dramatic. Just fact.
"Oh," Shu Mingye replied. His voice came out softer this time. "I see."
He didn't move. Just stood there for a long moment, staring at her. Was it just a coincidence?
Linyue tilted her head, studying him with curious eyes. What was wrong with him now?
His expression was… strange. His eyes were too wide, his brows were struggling against gravity, and his mouth hung slightly open like he was about to say something and forgot what it was. Most annoyingly of all, even in the middle of this obvious internal collapse, he still looked handsome.
Unfair. Completely unfair.
She tilted her head again, now mildly offended by his cheekbones. Then her gaze dropped to their joined hands. His hand was no longer cold. It was warm. Steady. A little too steady. A little too comfortable.
She said nothing. He still hadn't moved, still standing there like a statue. Maybe his brain had simply walked out and left the body behind. She resisted the urge to poke his forehead and simply asked in her usual flat tone, "Are you planning to stand there forever? Or are you growing roots now?"
That seemed to do the trick.
Shu Mingye blinked, coughed once, and straightened his shoulders, trying to recover every shred of lost dignity. "No. I was just… thinking."
"Mm," Linyue hummed, as if she didn't quite believe him but didn't feel like arguing.
And with that, they began walking again, side by side, with his dignity limping along behind them.
Shu Mingye didn't say another word. Linyue gave him exactly zero questions about it. Whatever was going on inside that overly complicated royal head of his could stay there. She had no intention of prying. It was late, and she had one very noble, very practical goal: beauty sleep.
As they walked, however, Linyue's eyes wandered. The new place was… fancy. Suspiciously fancy. This was not just "backup residence" fancy. This was "secret vacation palace he doesn't let anyone know exists" fancy. The floor gleamed with spotless marble, polished enough to reflect their footsteps. No cracked tiles, no mysterious stains, no dead leaves hiding in corners. The walls were the same—smooth, white stone, shining faintly under lantern light. Not a single plank of suspiciously flammable wood in sight.
Finally, a fireproof palace. A very good omen. At least Song Meiyu wouldn't be able to accidentally set it ablaze while drying herbs.
The garden they passed looked like something from a painting. Flowers blooming under the night sky and the leaves rustled in perfect harmony. The kind of place where you could drink tea in and not worry about insects diving into your cup and drowning. And then, there were the gardenias. Dozens of them. In the middle, in the corners, lining the neat paths in perfect rows. White blossoms glowing faintly in the dark.
Linyue narrowed her eyes slightly, lips tugging in silent amusement. So the Demon Kng had a soft spot for flowers. Specifically, gardenias. Noted.
Finally, Shu Mingye stopped. He gestured toward a doorway that looked suspiciously identical to the last ten they had walked past. His voice came out low, commanding, as always. "This is your chamber from now on. Don't forget the way. Don't get lost."
Linyue turned to look behind her… then to the left… then to the right. Every door looked exactly the same. Perfect symmetry. Perfectly polished. No labels. No helpful signs like "not your room" or "beware, ghost lives here."
Linyue stared at the door. Then at the nine identical doors behind them. All the doors looked the same. Perfectly symmetrical. No labels. No helpful signs like "not your room" or "ghost lives here."
She frowned, honestly concerned. "I'm not sure about the last part," she admitted.
Shu Mingye grinned, a rare and suspiciously smug expression. "Good for you. If you ever get lost, just walk straight down that corridor. You'll find my study."
Linyue blinked. That close?
She said nothing, but in her head, a very sharp eyebrow went up. Was this for convenience… or surveillance? Should she be worried? Was this a secret palace, or a beautifully decorated prison? Were they all under house arrest now?
…No. Sleep first. Conspiracies tomorrow.
She tugged her hand lightly, and finally, he let go. Without another word, she walked to the door, pushed it open, and shut it right in front of his handsome face. No dramatic farewell, no polite goodnight. Just click.
Inside, she exhaled. The room was spotless. Quiet. She turned in a slow circle, scanning every corner. No flickering shadows. No lurking assassins. No insects buzzing toward the lantern. No He Yuying hiding under the bed with a stolen snack. No Song Meiyu trying to turn the bathtub into a hotpot and insisting it was "for medicinal purposes."
Her eyes finally landed on the bed.
It looked soft. Wide. Comfortable. The kind of bed that begged you to collapse on it and never leave.
Linyue's lips curved into a small grin.
Finally… peace. And sleep.
She flopped onto the bed with a very un-princess-like sigh of satisfaction. The blankets were soft, the pillow cradled her head like a cloud, and for the first time all night, the world felt quiet. But as her eyes drifted closed, one last thought floated through her mind, stubborn and traitorous.
Still… no pie.