Linyue didn't look at him. Her gaze stayed fixed ahead. "A really, really, really beautiful dream."
Shu Mingye's brow lifted. "You even said really three times. Must've been something amazing."
She nodded. "Yes. I got to eat my favorite moon dumpling."
He blinked. "…Dumpling? That's it?"
"That's everything," she said, completely serious. "It was soft, warm, and had just the right sweetness. I almost cried in my dream."
For a moment, he just stared. Then a laugh escaped him—low and warm, rumbling out of his chest before he could stop it. It surprised even him. "So…" he said, his lips twitching. "Dumpling is the reason this… upgraded version of you showed up?"
Linyue tilted her chin with a faintly proud look. "It's not an upgrade. I've always been like this."
He narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Really?"
"Mhm." Her mouth curved into the tiniest smirk. "I just remembered it and took it back."
He looked like he was about to say something clever. Dangerously clever. The kind of thing that could cost him at least half his dignity. But then, salvation appeared.
The palace gates.
Shu Mingye's jaw loosened. He let out a silent breath of relief. Saved. Before his brain could betray him and his mouth could blurt out "Please marry me" or something equally catastrophic, he jumped off the horse. Correction: he gracefully dismounted like a perfectly composed, very cool king. Not at all like someone who had just been panicking on horseback. Then he turned, held out his hand, and helped her down. Smooth. Polished. Very kingly. Zero signs of emotional collapse. And then?
He vanished. Well, not vanished vanished. He walked away like a majestic king with somewhere Very Important to Be. He didn't glance back. Not once.
Linyue stood there for a moment, blinking. "…Did he just ditch me?"
Yes. Yes, he absolutely did.
She let out a soft sigh. Was she disappointed? Maybe. A little. She had been enjoying teasing him. It was warm. It was fun. A new form of amusement that had "flustered Demon King" written all over it. But… whatever. She straightened her sleeves, tilted her chin, and walked toward her chamber. Her pace was perfectly normal. Definitely calm, though a little slower than usual, but that was just because she was appreciating the architecture. Obviously. Definitely not sulking. Not even a little.
Once inside, she didn't waste a second. She stepped into steaming water, and sank down until the world melted away.
Ah. Bliss.
No more jade dust powder clogging her pores.
No more fake eyebrows drawn on like nervous caterpillars.
No more face-changing every single morning just to stay alive.
Just pure, unfiltered Linyue. Ten out of ten experience. Would recommend.
Afterward, she slipped into soft white robes and collapsed onto her bed. She flopped onto her side and stared at the wall. Then she rolled onto her back, stared at the ceiling. Then rolled to her stomach, hugging the pillow. And then back onto her side again.
Sleep?
She frowned. Absolutely not. Impossible. Her body had already been asleep for five whole days. She felt so rested it was actually annoying. Her brain was awake. Her fingers were awake. Even her toes were awake, wriggling happily under the blanket.
Linyue rolled onto her stomach and let out a small, tragic groan into her pillow.
…Snack?
Maybe. Probably. Absolutely. She had used a LOT of spiritual energy today frying that Red Phantom Maiden. Obviously, she deserved compensation. Her treacherous brain immediately filled with vivid, high-definition images of steamed buns, lotus seed pies, crispy sesame balls, and dumplings so juicy they required a spiritual contract before eating.
Why was her imagination this good when it came to food? Why couldn't she be this focused during cultivation?
She sighed deeply. Maybe she should try something new tonight. Something better. Something life-changing. But then her thoughts froze.
Money.
Right. She had none. Shen Zhenyu usually paid for everything without complaint, but he wasn't here. She didn't even have spare coins to bribe a palace servant. What was she supposed to offer instead? Her charm? Her wit? Her highly questionable cooking skills?
She groaned again, louder this time, and buried her face into the pillow.
Being adorable and broke was exhausting.
.......
Shu Mingye had scrubbed himself raw in a cold bath.
Blood? Gone.
Dirt? Gone.
Sanity? Also gone. Possibly dissolved into the water.
Now dressed in clean robes, he began pacing his room. Back. Forth. Back again. His jaw clenched. His arms crossed. Then uncrossed.
He missed her. Already.
No. No. Absolutely not. He shook his head so hard his hair nearly slapped him in the face. What was he thinking? It was late. Very late. Normal people, sane people were asleep by now. Not standing here, replaying every stupid second on that horse. Not obsessing over the way her gardenia scent had melted their brain. But his brain refused to listen. Her voice echoed in his head. Her mischievous smile burned behind his eyelids. And her stupidly soft hands…
He dragged his palms down his face hard. Like that would scrape the thoughts away. (Spoiler: it didn't.) He wasn't even aware of the dull ache in his arms from the fight anymore. Or the faint sting where wind blades had nicked his skin. Nothing mattered.
Then—Knock. Knock.
He froze.
Who? Who was knocking on his door at this hour?
A servant? Possible, but unlikely. None of them dared disturb him after dark. Not unless they had developed a sudden desire to experience what fire tasted like.
An assassin? Also possible. He had made enough enemies to fill a small city. But assassins didn't usually knock. He squinted suspiciously at the door. "Unless it's a polite assassin," he muttered under his breath.
His mind raced through other possibilities. Could it be that loud one? Showing up with some "comfort food" he never asked for? Or the lazy one, ready to deliver another one of his "helpful" observations about his emotional instability while eating his snacks?
His scowl deepened as he marched to the door. Bad timing. He was in no mood for visitors. "If that's a ghost," he murmured, reaching for the handle, "it picked the wrong night."
He yanked the door open, ready to unleash his signature "why are you alive and breathing near me" glare. And froze. His whole brain stopped working.
Linyue stood there in front of his door. She was wearing simple white robes. No embroidery. No jewelry. No hairpins. Just soft fabric and half-tied hair falling loosely over her back. She looked ethereal. Soft. Calm. Innocent. His heart decided now was a great time to stop cooperating. It skipped, hiccupped, then started racing.
She tilted her head up, dark eyes meeting his. Completely unbothered, like showing up at his door in the middle of the night was a normal thing.
Shu Mingye stared at her for a long second before clearing his throat and trying to remember how words worked. "What are you doing this late?" he asked. "At… my chamber?"
Very smooth. Ten out of then. Flawless delivery. He definitely didn't sound like a panicked squirrel.
Linyue's eyes moved over him slowly. He was not in his usual dark robes tonight. Instead, he wore white. Simple and elegant. Dangerously handsome. Without the splatter of blood across his face, she could see the sharp line of his jaw, the cool pale skin, and those tired but still unfairly beautiful sharp eyes. Her head barely reached his chin. Why was he this tall?
Unfair. Absolutely unfair.
Then she smiled. Not the polite, deadpan curve of her lips he usually saw. This one was different. This one was dangerous. A mischievous smile with dimples that said she was up to no good. Shu Mingye's brain, already hanging on by one very thin thread, snapped.
And then she asked sweetly, "Is it possible to charge for the sniffing fee now?"
Boom.
Brain: gone.
Heart: exploded.
Soul: left the body.
Shu Mingye blinked. Once. Twice. "W-What?" he croaked, his voice cracked.
And then, somehow everything escalated.
One moment, Linyue was standing outside like a perfectly normal, snack-hunting person asking for fair sniffing compensation. The next, she was inside his chamber. Correction: she was pressed between a door and one very intense, very flustered, very handsome Demon King.
The door thudded shut behind her with finality. His arm had seized around her waist. His other hand braced against the door beside her head, caging her in.
His breath? Uneven.
His eyes? Sharp, unreadable.
His ears? Red. Just the tiniest bit red, but she noticed.
"Do you…" his voice was low, serious and trembling at the edge of something dangerous. Or maybe desperate. "Do you even know what you're saying?"
"I just want to go out and have late night snack," she said quietly, almost guilty. "But I don't have money."
A long silence followed, filled only by the sound of his brain short-circuiting.
"…What?"