Ming Han stepped out, his gaze settling on Dan Zhang. He approached with a calm, measured stride and offered a brief nod, patting Dan Zhang's shoulder in a gesture of rare familiarity.
Dan Zhang and Nan Fang immediately dropped into deep bows.
"We are at the service of Your Highness, our benefactor," they spoke in unison.
Ming Han leaned in, his voice a low whisper intended only for Dan Zhang's ears. "Serve me well, and you will be rewarded generously."
A genuine smile broke across Dan Zhang's face as he bowed once more. "It is my greatest honor to be recognized by Your Highness."
As the Prince departed with his guard, the tension shifted. Dan Zhang and Nan Fang stepped further inside, where Liguan met them with a sharp, inquisitive look.
"Dan'er, you must be more careful. Do not act so rashly," Ehuhng scolded softly, though her sternness was softened by a fond smile.
"I will take your words to heart, Imperial Concubine," Dan Zhang replied, his tone respectful.
Liguan stepped forward, her eyes bright with interest. "Now, Dan Zhang—what was it you were so eager to show us?"
:
"I caught a large catch today," he said as he removed the pouch from his sleeve; it expanded as he opened it to show his prize. Both Liguan and Ehuhng gasped in amused shock and disbelief.
"Don't tell me you fished at the imperial gardens!"
Dan Zhang nodded with a toothy smile.
"And no one caught you?"
Dan Zhang scratched his head. "His Highness the Crown Prince caught me, but I managed to bribe him with the catch for tonight's outdoor feast."
The duo was even more stupefied, while Nan Fang simply shook his head in resignation.
"You bribed the *Crown Prince*?" Ehuhng finally found her voice, his eyes bulging. "With his own fish?"
"Technically, they are the Emperor's fish," Dan Zhang corrected playfully, cinching the pouch shut. "But the Prince surely has a refined palate for grilled carp and a very short memory when his stomach starts growling."
Nan Fang sighed, rubbing his temples as if a headache were blooming there. "You are walking on the edge of a blade, Dan Zhang. If the Head Steward finds out, not even a mountain of golden carp will save your skin."
Dan Zhang chuckled, unfazed. "Then we had better start the fire quickly. The Prince is expecting his share by sundown, and I'd hate to make a future Emperor wait for his dinner."
The silence of the grand corridor was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic tap of their boots against the polished stone and the distant, lonely cry of a night bird. The moonlight filtered through the high, arched windows, casting long, silvered shadows that danced across the walls.
Liguan's heart, hammered a frantic rhythm against the scrolls she clutched to her chest. The parchment felt cool against her skin, but her fingertips—stained with the dark ink of a long evening's work—felt strangely warm. She risked another glance, her eyes tracing the line of Ming Huan's profile.
He was devastatingly handsome in the moonlight. The sharp, clean line of his jaw looked as though it had been carved from white jade, and the bridge of his nose was perfectly straight, lending him an air of regal stoicism. Even in the dim light, his amethyst eyes seemed to hold a faint, crystalline glow—a trait of the bloodline that never failed to make her breath hitch. He looked every bit the prince of a Great Empire, yet there was a weariness in the set of his shoulders that only she seemed to notice.
Just as she was tracing the curve of his brow in her mind, Ming Huan's head shifted. It was a subtle movement, a slow turn as if he had sensed the weight of her gaze.
Liguan snapped her head forward so violently she nearly dropped a scroll. Her face burned, a deep crimson flush creeping up her neck and staining her cheeks. She focused intensely on the floor ahead, her eyes tracing the patterns in the marble as if they held the secrets of the universe.
"The hour is late, Liguan," Ming Huan said, his voice a low, melodic resonance in the quiet hallway.
"You should have left those reports for the morning. The ink on your hands tells me you've been at this since sundown." She nodded slightly and proceeded slowly. Liguan swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure as she asked. "Dang Zhang caught a handful of fish and is preparing a little outdoor bon fire feast. I was hoping if brother could grace the feast."
The invitation hung in the air, a small bridge over the chasm of their formal roles. When Ming Han agreed, the tension in Liguan's shoulders finally broke, replaced by a warmth.
"I... I am glad," she whispered, her head bowing so he wouldn't see the triumph in her eyes.
They continued for a few paces, the silence between them no longer heavy, but expectant. The ink stains on her fingers seemed to itch, but her mind was already at the feast—imagining the smell of roasting fish and the sound of Dan Zhang's irreverent laughter and spent company with Ming Huan.
But there was something else. Something she had carried in her sleeve since the first moon-rise.
Suddenly, Liguan stopped. Her silk slippers skidded slightly on the marble as she planted her feet, turning to face him fully. Her heart felt like a trapped bird, beating against her ribs with enough force to make her dizzy.
"Brother," she breathed, her voice small but steady.
Ming Han stopped as well, turning toward her with a look of mild confusion, his amethyst eyes searching hers.
Liguan reached into the deep fold of her sleeve. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against silk and jade. She pulled out a hand-woven tassel, the threads a deep, royal violet that perfectly matched the hue of his eyes. At the center of the knot was a small, carved piece of obsidian, polished until it shone like a dark mirror.
She presented it to him with both hands, her head bowed low so that her front hair fell forward, hiding the deep, burning crimson of her cheeks.
"I... I made this," she stammered, her voice shaking just a fraction. "It is a protective knot. I spent many nights on the weave, and the stone is meant to ward off the shadows.."
She held it out, the violet silk dangling between them.
"Please. If you would accept it, it would bring me peace of mind. To know you carry a piece of my protection with you."
The corridor went deathly still. Somewhere in the distance, a heavy gate groaned shut, but here, there was only the sound of Liguan's frantic breathing and the sight of her ink-stained fingers offering a piece of her heart to Ming Huan.
Ming Han's fingers brushed hers as he took the tassel. He didn't say much—he wasn't a man of many words—but the way he tucked the violet silk carefully into his belt, ensuring it was secure, was enough to make Liguan's heart soar. With a silent nod of appreciation, they walked the rest of the way to her residence in a comfortable, shared quiet.
Dan Zhang was huddled on the ground, his knees tucked to his chest as he squatted before a pile of stubborn logs in the center of the marble-seated fire pit. His face, usually so smug and polished, was a mess of grey ash and black soot. He was leaning in dangerously close, huffing and puffing until his cheeks were round as plums, trying to coax a spark into a flame.
"Work, you stubborn... dry... piece of..." Dan Zhang muttered, blowing another frantic breath into the wood. A pathetic puff of grey smoke drifted up, stinging his eyes and making him cough.
Nan Fang stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression one of deep, soul-weary impatience. Opposite him, the Crown Prince, Ming Yuan, sat on one of the marble benches, looking remarkably relaxed for someone sitting in a drafty courtyard at midnight. Beside him, his guard Hui Cufen remained as stiff as a statue,
"Is he always this... tactile?" Ming Yuan asked quietly, tilting his head as he watched Dan Zhang nearly face-plant into the soot.
"He's a menace, Your Highness," Nan Fang deadpanned.
Just as Liguan and Ming Huan stepped into the light, Dan Zhang let out a frustrated groan.
"I have caught the finest fish in the province, and I am to be defeated by a branch?"
Ming Yuan sighed softly. Without a word, he flicked his wrist. A small, yellow paper slip—a fire talisman—danced through the air like a falling leaf. It landed dead center in the pile of wood.
Fwoosh!
A bright, magical roar of orange flame erupted instantly, casting bright, flickering shadows across the residence walls.
Dan Zhang scrambled up, wiping a smudge of dirt across his forehead and leaving a new streak of soot. He saw Ming Huan and Liguan standing there and immediately broke into a toothy, unabashed grin, completely unbothered by his undignified tumble.
"Ah! The guest of honor!" Dan Zhang exclaimed, bowing toward the duo while still holding a soot-covered poker. "Perfect timing, Prince. The fire is—as you can see—entirely under my control."
Nan Fang snorted. "The only thing you control is the amount of soot on your nose."
Liguan stepped forward, her shy demeanor from the hallway replaced by her role as the host. "You've made a mess of yourself, Dan Zhang. But..." she looked at the roaring fire and then at Ming Huan, who was watching the scene with a rare, ghost of a smile.
"It is good to see everyone here."
Dan Zhang didn't miss the violet tassel hanging from Ming Han's belt. He winked at Liguan, a gesture that made her flush all over again, before swinging his enchanted pouch around.
"Fresh carp for the Princes, the Princess, and the weary guards!" he announced, as Yiangyiang stepped into the firelight. She carried a heavy silver tray laden with the fish Dan Zhang had caught, now cleaned and glistening in a rich, aromatic marinade of ginger, rice wine, and fermented soy.
"The kitchens were happy to lend their spices at this hour," Yian-yian remarked with a subtle, knowing smile toward Liguan,
"Ah, Yian-yian! My lady of the silver tray!" Dan Zhang cheered, as a gentle laugh rippled from the crowd.forgetting his soot-stained face as he rushed to help her. He took the tray and began skewering the fish onto long, polished metal spikes.
The scent of the marinade hitting the heat was instantaneous. The ginger and wine sizzled against the wood-fire, sending a mouth-watering aroma through the cool night air. Even the stoic Hui Cufen shifted his weight, his nose twitching almost imperceptibly at the smell.
As the first batch of fish began to sizzle and crisp, Ming Han found his gaze drifting from the dancing flames to Dan Zhang. The youth was hunched over the fire again as meticulously turned the skewered fish. The flickering embers cast a warm, orange glow on his soot-stained face, highlighting his sharp features and the unexpected focus in his eyes. There was a deliberate care in his movements, the exact moment the flesh turned flaky. It wasn't the clumsy, boastful Dan Zhang from moments before; it was a man utterly engrossed in the simple, primal task of feeding others. A strange, unfamiliar warmth spread through Ming Han's chest, accompanied by a sudden, tight knot in his throat. It was an emotion he couldn't name—a wistful longing for such an uncomplicated purpose, perhaps, or a quiet admiration for a spirit so unburdened by the weight of expectations that he could find genuine joy in the mundane.
Ming Yuan didn't miss the subtle shift in Dan Zhang's demeanor as he observed him. As the first batch of fish turned golden-brown and fragrant, a rich aroma filling the night air, Dan Zhang pulled the skewers from the fire.
"First harvest!" he declared cheerfully, his soot-streaked face beaming. He presented the plumpest, most perfectly cooked fish to Liguan first. Then, with a flourish, he offered another to Ming Yuan, who accepted it with a faint smile. Finally, he turned to Ming Han, holding out a skewer with an almost deferential tilt of his head. "For Your Highness."
Ming Huan swallowed hard, taking the skewer from him as it was warm between his fingers. Dan Zhang's face was an expression under the flames — soot and playfulness, but also a care so careful it felt almost deliberate. For a moment Ming Huan forgot to his surroundings
Yiang-yiang moved as she set the next tray on the low table, then — without breaking her rhythm — cast a discreet, measured glance at Nan Fang. Nan Fang was nothing overt, only that nearly blank expression. Yet his eyes had narrowed. He watched more than he reacted. Nan Fang's relaxed posture was a bluff of sorts. His stillness made him harder to read, He was merely indifferent.
The crackling of the fire was the only sound until Dan Zhang spoke. Yiangyiang looked away, unable to hide the warmth blooming in her face.
"Do you like Nan Zhang?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the fish grilling over the embers.
"Who would like someone so stoic and rude?" Yiangyiang blurted out. Her heart raced as she blinked frantically, lowering her head to hide her flustered expression.
Dan Zhang chuckled softly. "He wears a mask of ice, it's true, but beneath it lies a devoted heart."
Yiangyiang let out a small scoff, yet the blush refused to fade. Watching the scene unfold, the other princes observed the pair—Dan Zhang's playful prodding and Yiangyiang's endearing, frustrated pout.
Liguan watched them with a quiet smile. It seemed that Dan Zhang and Yiangyiang were finally falling into a comfortable rhythm, their rapport growing with every passing moment. Slowly, her eyes drifted toward Ming Huan. He remained still, his focus entirely anchored on the pair, but as Liguan studied him, her own expression softened, her gaze filled with a tender and aching yearning.
As the second course was being served, Dai Yu appeared, his eyes searching the pavilion until they landed on his master. He approached and offered a deep, respectful bow. "Greetings to the Young Master, His Highness the Crown Prince, Her Highness, and her esteemed guests."
"Don't act so formal, Brother Dai! Come, join us," Dan Zhang urged with a bright, welcoming laugh, gesturing for him to take a seat.
Dai Yu offered a polite nod of acknowledgment, yet his sense of propriety remained unshaken. Instead of joining the circle, he moved silently to stand as a steadfast shadow beside Hui Cufen. Dan shook his head with a good-natured sigh at his stubborn discipline, while nearby, Nan Fang watched the entire exchange with a sharp, calculating gaze.
The air was thick with the savory, charred aroma of the grilled feast as Xiangxiang and Dan Zhang began to distribute the second course, Xiangxiang moved among the royals, her silken sleeves fluttering like butterfly wings as she served them with practiced grace. Meanwhile, Dan Zhang, ever the man of the people, bypassed the formalities to ensure the guards were well-fed, his easy camaraderie warming the evening air.
Once the task was done, Dan Zhang settled onto the cool stone bench beside Nan Fang. A playful, conspiratorial glint danced in his eyes as he presented a golden-brown portion of fish, its skin perfectly crisped and glistening under the firelight.
"Brother Nan," he murmured with a grin, "I made sure to save the plummiest, most tender piece of the lot just for you."
Nan Fang offered a curt, silent nod of acknowledgment as he took the offering. He ate quietly, taking large chunks of the savory meat, his stoicism a sharp contrast to the lively atmosphere. Dan Zhang, undeterred by the silence, leaned back and let his voice drift into the twilight.
"Is there anything truly better than this?" he mused, his tone bright and animated, speaking to the gathering at large but seemingly to the stars themselves. "To finally cast off the weight of the day, to relax with good company and fine food... it's enough to make one forget the world outside these walls." His laughter was light and melodic, filling the gaps in the conversation with a warmth that seemed to bridge the distance between everyone present.
The boisterous energy of Dan Zhang's rambling gradually softened, his voice tapering off into a fond, quiet hum as he turned his full attention back to the man beside him. Watching Nan Fang dismantle the fish with such singular, unrefined focus brought a sudden, genuine sparkle to Dan's eyes.
"Brother, look at you," Dan chuckled, the sound low and intimate against the backdrop of the bonfire burning. "You eat like a famished child who hasn't seen a meal in a week."
Without a second thought for the fine fabric of his robes or the eyes of the royals nearby, Dan Zhang reached out. With a natural, unhesitating grace, he used the edge of his wide silk sleeve to gently brush away a smudge of grease from the corner of Nan Fang's mouth.
The gesture was startlingly domestic, Nan Fang paused mid-bite, a sharp, huffed snort escaping him—a sound that was half-annoyance and half-resignation. Yet, despite his usual prickly exterior, he didn't pull away. He remained still, his dark eyes fixed on the fish as he allowed Dan to finish his mothering, after a while, the quiet bickering between the two men continued like the low hum of bees, of jabs and retorts. Finally, with a dramatic huff of feigned exasperation, Dan Zhang scooted away from Nan Fang, his movements deliberate as he shifted to the other side of the stone bench. He settled there, facing Ming Huan and Liguan with his arms crossed and his lower lip pushed out in a pout.
Liguan couldn't help the soft, melodic ripple of laughter that escaped her. "Truly, Dan Zhang, your patience is a virtue we should all aspire to," she teased gently, her eyes dancing with amusement.
Ming Huan, however, found himself barely hearing the words. His gaze had landed on Dan Zhang and stayed there, his sharp features melting into something uncharacteristically tender. To him, Dan Zhang looked like a ruffled rabbit—soft, slightly indignant, and entirely too "squishy" for Ming Huan's peace of mind. He watched the way the bon light played off Dan's rounded cheeks, finding the display utterly endearing.
His eyes caught the glint of oil at the edges of Dan Zhang's mouth, grease of the fish. Almost subconsciously, as if drawn by an instinctive need to tend to his "bunny," Ming Huan reached out. His hand moved through the air with a steady, quiet grace until his fingers brushed against Dan Zhang's skin.
He didn't use a cloth or a sleeve; he used his bare thumb to carefully wipe the stray droplets from the corner of Dan's lips. The intimacy of the direct contact—skin against skin—sent a momentary hush through their immediate space. Ming Huan's touch was lingering and firm, his gaze fixed on Dan Zhang with an intensity that made the surrounding seem to fall away.
The brief contact was like a spark catching tinder. As Ming Huan's thumb brushed those soft, thin lips, a jolt of pure, unexpected heat shot up his arm, settling deep in his chest. It was a sensation far more potent than any wine served at the feast. Outwardly, his face remained a mask of royal composure—stoic and unreadable—but his eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened with a depth of affection that was impossible to fully hide.
The pavilion fell into a heavy, weighted silence.
Liguan sat frozen, her half-formed smile turning into a look of sheer bewilderment; she had never seen Ming Huan initiate such a bold, personal gesture in public. Nearby, Ming Yuan remained perfectly still, his expression a mirror of his brother's stoicism, but his eyes had turned into chips of frozen glass, Hui Cufen, Yiangyiang, and Dai Yu exchanged stunned glances, their breath catching at the breach of decorum, while Nan Fang merely reached for another morsel of food, his face a picture of bored indifference as if he saw such foolishness every day.
Dan Zhang's eyes widened, his breath hitching as he felt the warmth of the Prince's fingers. For a heartbeat, he was caught in Ming Huan's gaze, but the realization of their audience quickly crashed over him.
A vibrant, rosy pink flooded his cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears. He let out a nervous, breathless laugh and quickly pulled back, breaking the contact. A wide, sheepish grin stretched across his face as he ducked his head in a hasty, awkward nod.
"Ah... thank you, Your Highness," he stammered, his voice a pitch higher than usual. He immediately began rubbing his own lips with the back of his hand, his movements frantic and clumsy in an attempt to dissipate the lingering tingles and the sudden, overwhelming self-consciousness that had seized him.
A quiet, sharp ache settled in Liguan's chest, a momentary shadow passing over her bright features. She quickly pushed it aside, convincing herself that Ming Huan was merely being thoughtful, attentive. Seeking to reclaim a sliver of that rare intimacy, she leaned in toward him, her eyes hopeful.
"Brother, can you help me too?" she asked softly, tilting her chin up and bringing her face close to his, waiting for the same tender touch.
Ming Huan felt the sudden absence of Dan Zhang's warmth like a cold draft. His fingertips still hummed with the memory of those soft, thin lips, and a part of him felt a profound sense of loss the moment the contact was broken. He looked at Liguan, but the electric spark that had just filled the air seemed to vanish.
His movements were efficient and detached. Instead of using his hand, he reached for a clean silk napkin. With a steady but clinical motion, he briefly dabbed at the corner of her mouth. The gesture was polite, brotherly, and entirely devoid of the lingering heat he had shown Dan Zhang.
"There," he said simply, his voice returning to its usual even tone.
He set the napkin aside without another word and returned his focus to his meal. Though he appeared composed, his mind was still back on that stone bench, his heart still racing from the jolt that had traveled from his fingers straight to his core.
Around the table, the atmosphere remained thick. Ming Yuan's icy gaze hadn't wavered, tracking his brother's every move with a chilling intensity.