The moon hung low over the silent palace.
Li Zhan vaulted over the back wall of his residence, landing soundlessly in the shadows.
He pulled the dark cloth from his face, revealing sharp eyes and the quiet authority that never left him
even out of the dragon robe.
He wasn't returning from any royal patrol tonight.
He'd gone out as an ordinary man, disguised among his people, to observe whispers that certain groups had been plotting unrest near the hunting grounds.
He wanted truth
not reports polished by fear.
But he hadn't expected arrows in the dark.
His boots left faint marks on the polished floor as he crossed into his private quarters.
Behind him, a cloaked figure followed
his personal shadow guard, Yinzhi, who served him since the first day he wore the crown.
"Your Majesty," Yinzhi said quietly, eyes flicking toward the crimson-stained bandage around Li Zhan's hand.
"You're injured."
Li Zhan waved him off. "It's nothing. Go back."
Yinzhi hesitated.
"At least allow me to fetch the royal physician..."
"No need," Li Zhan cut him short. His voice was calm but edged with exhaustion.
"I'm not dying from a scratch."
The shadow guard bowed slightly, then turned toward the outer door.
"Bring some ointment,"
Li Zhan added, almost as an afterthought.
When Yinzhi disappeared into the corridor, silence filled the chamber once more.
Li Zhan leaned back against the carved pillar, glancing at his palm.
The scarf.
That absurd, uneven, red scarf still wrapped around his hand.
His jaw tightened
yet he didn't remove it.
The memory replayed in his mind uninvited:
Her bright, defiant eyes, the way she scolded him like he was a reckless boy instead of a king.
The warmth of her touch, unafraid, unfiltered.
And the way she tied that ridiculous thing like it was a sacred ritual.
"She dared to talk like that… to me," he murmured under his breath.
His lips twitched
whether in disbelief or reluctant amusement, he couldn't tell.
"Does she know who I am?"
"Or does she truly not care?"
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.
When he'd leapt into her chamber earlier, he hadn't known whose room it was
only that it was open, and he needed cover.
But then… there she was.
Concubine Wen Qian.
The woman known more for her silence and minor background than any political influence.
Until recently, he'd hardly remembered her name.
Now, she was all he could think about.
---
Yinzhi returned quietly, carrying a small porcelain box.
He froze mid-step when he noticed the red wool on the king's hand.
"Your Majesty…" His voice held barely contained curiosity.
"Is that...?"
Li Zhan shot him a warning glance.
"Don't."
But Yinzhi's mouth already twitched into a smirk.
"That looks… unusually colorful for royal attire."
Li Zhan ignored him, taking the ointment and turning away.
Yinzhi, however, didn't move. "If I may....
does this come from her palace?"
The king's hand paused midair.
"…You knew."
Yinzhi bowed lightly, still smirking.
"Your Majesty, I'm your shadow. I notice everything.
Including when you vanish at midnight and reappear through a concubine's window, bleeding."
Li Zhan's gaze sharpened.
"Watch your tongue."
"Of course," Yinzhi said smoothly.
"Still… her scarf suits you. A fine gesture, really."
Li Zhan's frown deepened.
"It's not a gesture. She was simply… ignorant of danger."
"Ah..!" Yinzhi nodded sagely, tone dripping with mock solemnity.
"Ignorant enough to bandage Your Majesty's hand? Brave enough to face you without fear? Sounds quite ignorant indeed."
Li Zhan gave him a flat look, though his ears burned faintly at the teasing.
"She's reckless," he said curtly.
"No sense of boundaries. Should be punished for leaving the cold courtyard again."
Yinzhi's eyes glinted.
"And yet, Your Majesty hasn't removed that scarf."
A beat of silence.
Then Li Zhan muttered, almost to himself,
"…It stopped the bleeding. That's all."
Yinzhi bowed again, amusement hidden behind perfect composure.
"Of course. Merely practical."
When he finally left, Li Zhan sat down beside the table, his gaze lingering once more on the wool.
The red threads were uneven, a few loose ends dangling like her careless laughter.
He touched it absentmindedly.
"Concubine Wen Qian… what are you really planning?"
Outside, the wind rustled softly against the windows
carrying faint echoes of her voice and the warmth that still lingered in his palm.
------------------
The room fell silent again after the masked man slipped away through the window.
Shu Min stood there for a while, still staring at the fluttering curtain.
"…He's gone," she murmured, breathless.
Her hands were still warm from where she'd tied the half-finished scarf around his injured arm.
That was supposed to be the Queen's gift for the King
yet somehow, it ended up on a stranger's wound.
She sighed and sat down, rubbing her fingers that still stung from the needle pricks.
"Great," she muttered,
"Five hours of stabbing my poor fingers, and now my scarf's part of someone else's bandage."
But when she remembered the blood on his hand, her annoyance softened.
"He did save me before… so maybe this is repayment," she reasoned, half-smiling.
Still, her mind wouldn't rest.
Who was he?
The way he spoke calm, composed, and oddly familiar..stirred something inside her.
She tried to recall everything she knew from the novel that mirrored this world, but of course, there was nothing.
Because in that story, the name Wen Qian never existed.
And if the author never wrote about her, then no one would ever write this night either.
"Maybe that's why things keep happening that weren't in the book…" she whispered.
Her gaze drifted to the moonlight spilling across the floor.
'Could it be possible? The King in disguise?
No...!'
she shook her head quickly.
That would be ridiculous… wouldn't it?
"Well, whoever he was,"
she huffed softly,
"he still owes me a thank you. And my scarf."
She gathered the scattered threads, a little pout forming on her lips.
Then, with a tired smile, she whispered,
"Next time, masked mister, I'll make sure to ask your name."
Pulling the blanket around herself, Shu Min finally lay down, her thoughts tangled like the loose yarn beside her bed
and slowly drifted into sleep.