Bounus Capter 5 – "When the Word Whispers"
The feast still echoed in my ears — laughter, music, the clinking of jade cups. The melodies seemed to weave through the very air, sparkling with the joy and energy of those gathered, each conversation a thread in the elaborate tapestry of the evening. The glow of lanterns lit the night, casting soft, warm light across the garden as the sounds of mirth and merrymaking drifted toward me.
But now, as I stepped away from the noise, a stillness settled around me, deep and enveloping. The night had grown quieter now. Softer. Heavier.
I slipped away from the glowing lanterns, following the long path just like the voice had instructed me, my footsteps soft against the cool stones. Each step away from the crowd felt like stepping deeper into a dream, a dream I wasn't sure I wanted to have.
The air grew cooler, and the scent of jasmine filled my senses, subtle yet potent. I couldn't help but be drawn deeper into the stillness, my mind heavy with questions that I couldn't yet understand. Who was I really following? What was I doing here? Why did the path seem so clear now, even though I had no answers?
And then—
There he was.
Standing beneath the moonlit tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. The moonlight poured down, casting silver beams around him, turning him into something both real and unreal. A shadow, yet vivid, as if the night itself had woven him from its own threads. It was almost as if he had always been there — timeless, distant, and untouchable.
Yuzhe.
He didn't move. He didn't speak.
But he looked at me.
A single glance. Like ice cracking under pressure. Not anger. Not kindness. Just… quiet weight. An unspoken understanding that neither of us could break, but both felt acutely.
I bowed my head, suddenly feeling small, my heart pounding faster than it should have. A strange warmth spread across my chest, followed by the cool brush of unease. He was here, in front of me, and I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze again. Not yet. It was as though the space between us was too vast for words, yet full of something I didn't want to confront.
I turned, the desire to leave overwhelming me, but it felt like the path had changed. I could no longer go back. The moment had passed, and yet I couldn't escape it.
A breeze stirred the air, and something brushed against my shoulder — light as a breath.
A leaf. No — a petal. Pale and fragrant. It slipped from his hand and landed softly against me, as if it had been waiting to find its way to me all along.
His voice followed, low and measured, the words hanging in the air like a whisper that could not be ignored.
"Sixteenth hour. Courtyard."
The simplicity of it struck me, but it was not the words themselves that startled me. It was the voice. That calm, controlled cadence that seemed to cut through the silence between us, leaving behind something that lingered longer than the sound of his words.
I turned back, startled by his voice, but not as startled as I was by the fact that he was still looking at me. Directly. No words left unspoken. No distance between us. His gaze felt like a force in itself, pulling me into an understanding that I was too afraid to reach.
Our eyes met for the first time.
And it felt like nothing.
No spark. No thunder. Just a stillness. Too deep to name.
I looked away quickly, a wave of confusion and something else — something sharp and unfamiliar — surging through me. Without another glance, I hurried back down the path, trying to escape the weight of that look. My heart raced, and my thoughts spun, the remnants of the moment clinging to me like the cool night air.
Then I left with out a word.
--🌝--
Later, in the bath…
The water whispered around me, warm against my skin, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I couldn't seem to focus. The image of him was still there, an imprint that I couldn't erase, and I had no idea why.
Why him? Why that look? Why did it feel like the world had held its breath the moment he looked at me?
I closed my eyes, letting the steam swirl around me, the scent of flowers still clinging faintly to my shoulder. The memories of that moment — his gaze, the petal, his voice — all mixed together in a haze, clouding my mind. I felt as though I were drowning in my own thoughts, unable to breathe or think clearly.
Why had he looked at me that way? He had been the Moon King, the man I had known as Shan Cheng in my past life, but now he was different. So different. He was more than just a ruler, more than just a shadow in the night. There was something else, something that both frightened and intrigued me.
I didn't know why I still thought about him. What was it about that look? That moment?
And why did it feel like something had changed? Something I couldn't understand. I should have felt the same — the same awe, the same affection, the same longing that I had felt before. But this… this was different. It was colder. Detached. But it also had a weight. A heaviness. Something I couldn't place.
Why couldn't I just forget it? Forget him?
I took a deep breath, letting the water rise around me, but it didn't clear my mind. The steam only seemed to thicken the fog in my thoughts, pushing me deeper into confusion.
--🌝--
A knock on the door broke my reverie.
"Miss," a soft voice called. "Master Yang left something for you."
I froze. My heart skipped a beat, an uneasy flutter running through me. Could it be? Was it him?
I quickly wrapped the robe tighter around me, a sudden urgency rising in my chest. "Bring it in."
The maid entered, holding a small, flat box tied with silver thread. She placed it on the table, a soft smile playing on her lips before she left without another word.
I hesitated before opening it. My heart thudded loudly in my ears. Was this really from him? Was this the thing I had been waiting for, the answer I didn't know I needed?
Inside… was a single pressed flower.
White. Moon-shaped. Delicate. Familiar.
I touched it gently, feeling the softness of the petals, their fragile nature sending a ripple of something unsettling through me. It was the same flower from the tree near the courtyard — the same flower that had brushed my shoulder just moments before.
But beneath it, there was something more.
A slip of paper, almost invisible against the silk lining of the box. I unfolded it carefully, afraid that the words might hold something I wasn't prepared to understand.
Only three words.
"You looked different."
I stared at the handwriting. Sharp. Controlled. Unmistakably his.
Different?
How?
And why now?
Why would he say this to me? After everything — after all the time we spent apart, after all the silence between us? Why now?
I sat there, still holding the note, the flower resting on my lap. The steam from my bath still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of jasmine. The world felt different now. The moment had shifted, and yet I couldn't quite grasp what had changed.
A soft knock at the door broke the silence again.
"Come in," I called, my voice barely above a whisper.
Han Pu stepped in, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on me. He crossed the threshold with a quiet air of someone who had been waiting for this moment.
"Are you decent?" he teased, his voice light, but his eyes soft with concern.
I didn't smile. I didn't move. I didn't have the energy for it.
He noticed, his playful tone dropping. "I heard you got a late-night delivery."
I glanced at the pressed flower, still resting in my lap. Han Pu followed my gaze, his expression shifting slightly.
"Was it from him?" he asked.
I didn't answer, but I didn't have to. The tension in the room spoke for me.
Han Pu leaned forward, his eyes scanning the note in my hand. "I see," he murmured, his lips pressed together in thought.
I pulled the note away, not wanting him to read it. It was mine. Mine to figure out, even if I didn't know what it meant.
"Oh come on," Han Pu said, half-laughing. "Are you going to act mysterious now? After everything?"
I didn't answer. There was nothing to say.
"He said I looked different," I murmured, staring at the words again.
Han Pu blinked, then slowly leaned back, his expression one of contemplation. "That's it?" he asked.
I nodded.
He whistled low. "For a man who never speaks more than necessary, that's practically a love letter."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't start."
Han Pu grinned. "I'm just saying. You're not just 'anyone' to him. You never were. Even when he pretends you are."
I sighed, the note falling onto the table beside the flower.
"He looked at me last night, Han Pu. Really looked at me. And I felt… nothing. But then why am I still thinking about it?"
Han Pu's voice softened. "Because sometimes... nothing is louder than everything you've been trying not to feel."
I felt the weight of his words settle over me. There was something to them. Something deep, something that echoed in the hollow of my chest. And I couldn't figure out what it meant.
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Hello, this is Li Yuxin! Thank you all so much for your incredible support. I truly appreciate each and every one of you for helping me reach 1k views in just 5 days — especially as a first-time writer. It means so much to me!
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