Linyue woke up groggy, her head heavy. She forced her eyes open to a dim, unfamiliar room. Her hands were tied to a chair.
Oh, wonderful. Kidnapped. Again. At least this time, Song Meiyu was not the one behind it. Progress, she supposed.
For the first time in a long while, her body felt weak. Truly weak. Her limbs throbbed, and her spiritual energy was nowhere to be found. Someone had clearly drugged her. Cleverly, too. Probably the same kind of stuff she had once used on Zimo. Was this karma? Retribution? The heavens finally cashing in on her old debts?
Her gaze moved slowly across the room.
Song Meiyu was tied up next to her, head tilted at an angle only possible for a person with no shame, drool trickling down her chin in an impressive display of dignity. Linyue was just thankful the drool was not aimed in her direction.
Across from her, He Yuying sat slumped, unconscious, though his face wore the same expression as always: somewhere between "life is exhausting" and "please do not wake me for anything less than food." She suspected that even if he woke up mid-torture, he would just sigh and ask for steamed buns.
And Shen Zhenyu… of course. Even drugged and bound, he sat there as if he had chosen this exact moment to begin a deep meditation session. His posture was too perfect, his expression too serene.
The only one missing was Prince Lu. Typical. He was probably in another room, narrating his own suffering to the walls.
Alright.
Step one: escape from the chair.
Step two: rescue the dramatic prince before he earned himself a punch from their captors, or worse, an encore of his monologue about "the tragic beauty of captivity."
Step three: punch him herself?
Linyue paused at that thought, narrowing her eyes. On one hand, it was tempting. On the other, knowing Prince Lu, he would only make it worse. She could already picture it: him gasping dramatically, staggering back as if her fist had not touched his jaw but his very soul. He would clutch his chest, eyes shining with betrayal and admiration, and cry out about being blessed by her "gentle wrath." Or worse, he might actually thank her. Say something ridiculous about how much he enjoyed it. And if fate truly despised her, he would tilt his head, sigh dreamily, and murmur, "Ah, violence… the language of passion."
Linyue pressed her lips into a thin, grim line. No. Absolutely not. She was not giving him that opportunity. Better to wait. She would decide after finding out whether the prince was actually alive… or just busy milking his near-death experience for attention.
With a quiet grunt, she wiggled her foot and kicked off one shoe. From the insole, a tiny hidden knife slipped out and clattered to the floor. She rocked her weight from side to side until the chair tipped and hit the ground with a solid thump. Not her most graceful moment, but effective. If anyone was watching, she would have pretended it was part of a carefully planned maneuver.
Flat on her side now, she stretched her fingers toward the knife. Her wrists strained against the ropes until her fingertips finally hooked the cold handle. Awkward, slow, but determined, she began sawing at the knots until they gave way.
Free at last, she got to her feet and walked to Shen Zhenyu. Without hesitation, she cupped his face in both hands and pressed her ice-cold palms firmly against his cheeks.
His reaction was immediate. Shen Zhenyu jolted awake with a sharp gasp, flinching as if she had just slapped him across the face with a snowball. "What—Linyue?" he croaked, his voice rough, eyes blinking rapidly to focus.
"Morning," she said in a calm tone, already working the small knife against the ropes at his wrists.
Still dazed, he stared at her, trying to catch up with reality. "Are you okay?"
"For now," she replied. "Just mildly annoyed."
With Shen Zhenyu freed, they moved together to wake the others.
Song Meiyu stirred first, groaning as her head tipped forward, strands of hair sticking to her face. "Where… are we?" she mumbled. Her eyes fluttered open, then she winced. "I can't feel my spiritual energy. I feel like…" She paused, searching for the words, then grimaced dramatically. "Like tofu. Soft. Useless tofu."
Shen Zhenyu reached over, pressing two fingers against her wrist. "We were drugged."
Song Meiyu groaned louder, flopping her head back against the chair. "Yes. Definitely Nightshade. Suppresses cultivation." She placed a hand against her chest, eyes wide with horror. "Do you realize what this means? Right now, I am… ordinary."
He Yuying let out a low groan of his own, his head lolling sideways. "I'm awake," he muttered in his usual flat tone. "And no one's even tried to rescue me yet. Typical."
Linyue arched an eyebrow as she cut through his ropes. "You're welcome in advance."
"Yeah, yeah." He rubbed his wrists, sighed, and looked around. "Where's that prince? Is he dead?"
Song Meiyu froze mid-stretch and glanced around nervously. "Let's hope not. What if he haunts us? Or… or what if he's in another trap? You know how traps love him."
Linyue replied calmly, "Then let's hope it's a dramatic one. That way, he'll feel at home."
She stood and strode toward the door, giving the handle a good jiggle. Unsurprisingly, it didn't budge. "Of course it's locked," she muttered.
It was just a plain wooden door. Unimpressive. Completely kickable. But still, they had no idea where they were, who had taken them, or what waited on the other side. For all she knew, there could be a dozen armed guards standing ready.
While she weighed the risks, He Yuying strolled forward at his usual lazy pace. "Move," he said with a casual wave of his hand.
Linyue gave him a long look, suspicious but willing to see what nonsense he was about to attempt. She stepped aside. Then, without a single word of warning or a dramatic countdown, He Yuying lifted one foot and kicked. The wood split with a sharp crack, the hinges screamed in protest, and the whole door flew open.
He Yuying turned back to the group with the faintest smirk, chin tilted high in silent triumph. His expression clearly screamed: You may now shower me with praise.
Song Meiyu clapped once. Slow, deliberate, and dripping with sarcasm. "Yay. Our big scary door-opener."
He Yuying nodded. "Thank you. Thank you. Now… can someone else walk out first in case there's a crossbow pointed this way?"
Shen Zhenyu gave a low grunt, shot him a flat look, and walked past without a single word.
Linyue calmly adjusted her sleeve. "Congratulations. Now you can add door demolition to your résumé."
He Yuying looked genuinely pleased. "Finally. A skill I'm proud of."
Linyue strolled to the splintered frame and stood beside Shen Zhenyu. Together, they leaned out carefully, eyes scanning the place.
Outside the door?
Absolutely no one. Not a guard. Not a sound. Not even a suspicious rat. Which was either extremely lucky… or extremely unlucky.
Her eyes narrowed, her expression thoughtful. If there had been guards, she could've asked for directions. Maybe even threatened one into drawing her a nice, labeled map. But no. Just silence, cold air, and another layer of mystery. This level of quiet could only mean one thing. Their captors were confident. The confidence that said: Sure, leave the door. Where are they gonna go?
She stepped cautiously into the corridor and frowned.
This wasn't a building. This was rock. Uneven, jagged, twisty-turny stone that looked like it had been dug out by someone who had plenty of enthusiasm but no actual skill. The walls glistened with dampness, and the air smelled faintly of mold. It reminded her far too much of that cave.
"Again with the caves," she muttered.
So they weren't in a room at all. Which meant they were either deep inside a mountain, in a cave… or worse, underground. Maybe underneath the doll store? She pictured the shop's cheerful little sign, the window full of dead-eyed dolls, and the overly polite shopkeeper. Not exactly the kind of place you'd expect a secret villain lair underneath. But then again, who expects a villain lair under a creepy doll store? …Exactly.
"Clever," she admitted aloud, though her tone dripped with irritation.
Behind her, Song Meiyu whispered nervously, "Do you think the dolls are part of it?"
He Yuying gave her a sideways look. "Of course. Haven't you seen those eyes? They were taking notes the whole time."
Song Meiyu gasped softly. "I knew it."
Shen Zhenyu let out the faintest sigh. "Focus. We need to find Prince Lu."
"Preferably alive," He Yuying added unhelpfully. "Dead people don't make good conversation."
Linyue nodded once. She glanced at the tunnel ahead, then at the two branching paths on either side. All were equally dark and equally uninviting.
"Prince Lu's shadow guards should have noticed something is off by now," she said thoughtfully. Her voice was steady, but her eyes narrowed. "Unless…"