Xu Yang ran as fast as he could, dashing through the crowded streets of city. His body moved nimbly, cutting through the throngs, leaping over curbs, and weaving between hurried pedestrians. His eyes burned with determination—as if nothing in the world could stop him.
But in the midst of that speed, Xu Yang didn't notice that his shoelaces had gradually come undone. And in one inevitable moment, he tripped. His body crashed onto the rough asphalt. The sound of skin scraping against the road rang out clearly, followed by a soft groan escaping his lips.
From a distance, Yu Chen saw everything. Reflexively, without thinking, he rushed toward him.
"Ruo Lan!" Yu Chen shouted
Blood trickled from Xu Yang's scraped knee.
The raw wound opened, fresh crimson drops splattering onto the pavement. But what made Yu Chen's breath catch wasn't the injury—it was the sight of Xu Yang getting back on his feet without hesitation, continuing to run, as if pain meant nothing.
Yu Chen stood frozen for a moment.
His chest tightened.
There was a strange ache in his heart—a mix of sorrow, anger, and reluctant admiration. Watching Xu Yang push himself, even as his body silently screamed in pain, made Yu Chen feel… powerless.
Not because he couldn't help him, but because he knew Xu Yang was far too stubborn to stop. And that was what truly hurt—not just physically, but in the unspoken silence he carried within himself.
Yu Chen's breath came in ragged gasps as he finally reached the Hospital. Only now did he realize just how fast Xu Yang had been running, forcing him to chase without a second thought. The hospital was calm, yet an invisible tension hung heavy in the air.
Xu Yang had already entered—storming in without so much as glancing at anyone. Yu Chen, unwilling to lose sight of him, drew a deep breath to steady himself before hurrying in.
His eyes quickly found Xu Yang, standing motionless in front of a room on the ground floor.
Yu Chen approached slowly, step by step.
The room beyond was silent. Inside lay an elderly man, his body still, covered with a white sheet up to his chest—his face peaceful in eternal rest.
A doctor and two nurses stood at the bedside. They lingered for a moment, as if allowing the living a final chance to say goodbye.
Then, the doctor quietly walked over to Xu Yang, who remained frozen in the doorway.
"Stay strong, dear…," the doctor said softly, giving Xu Yang's shoulder a gentle pat.
The doctor turned briefly to Yu Chen, offering a polite nod before leaving the room. The two nurses followed, casting Xu Yang a look full of quiet empathy as they passed.
Yu Chen remained near the door, observing everything in silence. He didn't know who the old man was—didn't know his story or his connection to Xu Yang. But from the way Xu Yang stood there, rigid and trembling, with silent tears streaming down his face, Yu Chen understood:
This man had meant the world to him.
Xu Yang didn't wail.
He didn't break down.
He simply stood there, letting the tears fall one by one—unwiped, unhidden.
Yu Chen watched him quietly. The pain was palpable, even without a single word.
When Xu Yang finally began to move toward the bed, his steps were heavy, each one weighed down by invisible grief.
He dragged his feet slowly, as if he couldn't bear to get closer—but couldn't bear to stay away, either.
And Yu Chen… could only watch in silent.
Unable to say a word.
"Grandpa…" Xu Yang's voice trembled, barely more than a whisper. "You can finally sleep now. You must be so tired… Rest well… Don't worry about anything… I'll be fine. Sweet dreams… Grandpa…"
A fragile smile curved his lips, yet it couldn't mask the sorrow drowning in his tear-filled eyes. He bit down on his lower lip as if to hold back the flood, but a few tears still escaped, sliding silently down his cheeks.
He leaned forward, lowering his head until his forehead touched the cold skin of his grandfather's. His eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the heavy stillness of the room. More tears fell—soundless, slow, each drop carrying the weight of a farewell he wasn't ready to give.
With trembling hands, Xu Yang finally reached for the white sheet. His fingers hesitated for a heartbeat before pulling it up, carefully covering his grandpa's peaceful face. The movement was painfully slow, as if his hands themselves resisted the truth—that once the sheet fell, the goodbye would be real.
Yu Chen stood in the doorway, his heart tightening at the sight. He hadn't known the old man. He didn't know the history, or the depth of their bond. But grief… grief was a language that needed no words, and Xu Yang's silent mourning was louder than any cry.
Without thinking, Yu Chen stepped forward. His movements were instinctive, guided only by the pull in his chest. He reached out and rested a steadying hand on Xu Yang's shoulder, firm yet gentle, saying nothing—because he knew that words would only shatter the fragile moment.
The two of them stood like that, wrapped in the heavy silence of loss.
Finally, Xu Yang's voice broke the stillness. "Yu Chen…" He spoke softly, almost uncertain, yet there was a thread of hope woven into his tone. "I know… you've already helped me so much… but could you… help me one more time?"
Yu Chen withdrew his hand, his dark eyes meeting Xu Yang's tear-streaked face.
"…What is it?"
Xu Yang turned fully to him. His eyes glimmered with fresh tears, and yet they held a quiet strength.
"He was my grandfather… his name is Han Shou Yi. I don't want people to know too much about my life. And… I don't want the news of his death to spread. So… will you help me bury him? Privately. Just us. No one else needs to know."
Yu Chen hesitated. Countless questions rose in his mind—
Who really is Xu Yang? Why so much secrecy? What kind of life had he been living?
But he swallowed them all. Right now wasn't the time for answers.
"…Alright," Yu Chen said softly, his voice steady with resolve.
Xu Yang's lips quivered into a faint, trembling smile.
"Thank you…" His voice cracked as the words slipped out, raw with grief and gratitude.
Without another word, Yu Chen knelt down in front of him. He loosened his own tie and carefully wrapped it around Xu Yang's scraped, bleeding knee, his fingers warm against the cold skin.
"Take care of your wound first," Yu Chen softly said, glancing up into Xu Yang's sorrowful eyes. "If you leave it like this, it'll get infected."
Xu Yang gave a small smile at Yu Chen with tears falling down on his cheak, "…Okay…"
After finishing the paperwork and talking to the local police about the death procedures, Xu Yang and Yu Chen left the hospital. They went to the small house of Han Shouyi, Xu Yang's grandfather, to prepare for the final farewell.
Before going home, Yu Chen followed Xu Yang to buy the things they needed: white chrysanthemums, incense, a wooden photo frame, a printed portrait of the grandfather, some fruit for offerings, and other simple items for the mourning ritual.
They didn't talk much. The air between them was heavy. Xu Yang walked calmly, but Yu Chen could see the hidden sadness in his clear blue eyes.
When they reached the house, the quietness was almost suffocating.
The house was very small—a simple one-story home with a living room that shared space with a tiny kitchen, two bedrooms, and one bathroom. It wasn't much, but Yu Chen could tell it was filled with the memories Xu Yang had with his grandfather.
Together, they set up a small altar in the center of the living room. They placed Han Shouyi's framed photo in the middle, surrounded by white flowers and burning incense. The soft scent of sandalwood spread through the room, mixing with the quiet sadness that hung in the air.
When everything was ready, Xu Yang went to his room to change into mourning clothes.
Yu Chen stayed in the living room, leaning against the wall. His eyes wandered to the old photos on the wall—most of them showed a young Xu Yang smiling next to his grandfather. Seeing them made Yu Chen's chest feel heavy. Those happy moments were now just memories.
After a few minutes, Xu Yang came out.
He was wearing black formal clothes—a suit and pants that were cut for a woman, but on him, they made him look graceful and calm. His long hair was tied back simply, and his pale face had no makeup. Only his blue eyes stood out, clear and bright, yet full of sadness.
Yu Chen froze for a moment, quietly staring.
Dressed in black, with grief in his eyes, Xu Yang looked… unforgettable.
His soft features and smooth skin seemed almost delicate, and those blue eyes, filled with quiet pain, drew Yu Chen in.
Xu Yang turned to him. "Let's go," he said softly.
Yu Chen snapped out of his daze and quickly nodded. He took a small breath and followed, his steps quiet, not wanting to disturb the stillness.
Han Shouyi's body had been cremated. His ashes now rested in a simple dark-brown clay urn. The urn wasn't fancy, but it carried meaning—on its surface, a carved flower seemed to symbolize the kindness and wisdom of the old man in life.
With trembling hands, Xu Yang placed the urn on the small altar in the living room. His breathing was heavy, his face somber yet firm.
For a long moment, he stood still, then bent forward in a deep bow—his final respect to the man who had been his father, his teacher, and the only family he had ever known.
Yu Chen followed quietly behind him, bowing as well.
He lowered his head without saying a word.
The moment was so quiet… so sacred… and so painfully heavy.
After the short farewell ritual, Xu Yang slowly sat down in the corner of the room. He hugged his knees to his chest, burying his face against them. His shoulders trembled.
"…sob… sob…"
The sobs were soft and muffled. Somehow, that made them even sadder.
Yu Chen lowered himself to sit beside him. He stayed silent, simply watching Xu Yang. His dark eyes held something rare—pity.
Slowly, he lifted a hand as if to stroke Xu Yang's hair…
but froze halfway.
'What am I even doing?' he thought, startled at himself.
He let his hand fall and chose to simply sit there in quiet company.
Time passed.
Xu Yang, drained both physically and emotionally, eventually fell asleep curled up on the cold floor. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. His face still bore the traces of tears that hadn't dried.
Yu Chen's heart clenched.
He sighed, unable to watch him sleep like that any longer.
Carefully, he slipped an arm under Xu Yang's knees and another under his back, lifting him in a bridal carry. Then carried him into the bedroom.
He laid Xu Yang on the bed and pulled the blanket over him with slow, careful movements.
In sleep, Xu Yang's face looked softer, calmer… though the shadow of grief still lingered.
Xu Yang didn't wake, only stirred slightly, murmuring in his sleep.
"…grandpa...sob..."
Yu Chen froze at the whisper.
His strong hands—hands that used to fought and killed without hesitation—now brushed Xu Yang's cheek with the gentlest touch. He wiped away the lingering tears.
Yu Chen lingered for a moment, watching him, before stepping out of the room. When the door closed with a small creak, the sound somehow felt… lonelier than usual.
The house was silent.
Silent in a way that reminded Yu Chen of his own home after his parents died. Every corner carried a familiar emptiness—full of memories, loss, and loneliness.
'Feels like I'm thirteen again…' Yu Chen thought.
That was the year he lost everything.
His parents.
The warmth of a home.
Since then, his life had felt like a shadow of itself.
Yes, his family still existed—the Liang family. But they were assassins, living in darkness. No one could know them. No one could be close. Even in death, there were no funerals, no goodbyes.
Death was kept in silence.
He could buy an island if he wanted. He could live in luxury.
But in truth, he lived like someone who had nothing.
Now, seeing Xu Yang like this… somehow, he felt the same pain.
"…I must be possessed by some melancholic ghost," he muttered, rubbing his temple.
His eyes roamed around the house. Dirty clothes piled up. Dishes stacked in the sink. Trash scattered on the kitchen floor. Dust covered the wooden planks.
"…Hah. Seriously…" he sighed.
Even so, he got to work.
He washed the clothes and hung them to dry.
Folded and ironed them once they were ready.
Cleared out old food and took out the trash.
Swept and mopped the floor until it shone.
Even the curtains were washed because they had grown too dull.
When he entered Han Shouyi's bedroom, he found a large bag to collect the old man's clothes that could still be donated.
Opening the wardrobe, he carefully checked each drawer.
Then his fingers brushed against something.
In the innermost drawer, hidden under a folded piece of old cloth, was a single envelope.
The paper was slightly yellowed but still neat. On the front, in familiar handwriting, were three simple words:
For Xu Yang.
Yu Chen froze. His heartbeat slowed but grew heavy.
He stared at the letter for a long moment… then slowly, carefully, picked it up.
Xu Yang…
If you are reading this letter, it means I am already gone.I know you must be very sad. I'm sorry… I couldn't stay by your side any longer.
Thank you… for everything you have done for me.Thank you for taking care of me, even when you had to pretend to be my grand daughter after I lost my memory. I know it must have caused you a lot of trouble… I'm truly sorry for that.
Xu Yang, my dear boy…I believe you will be okay.Even if you feel lonely now, I'm sure that one day, someone will be by your side for the rest of your life.You are strong—just like your parents.
Now… since I am no longer here, it is time for you to leave this house and return to where you came from.No matter how much you hate it, you must fulfill your duty as the heir of the throne.If you refuse… I will come back to haunt you
That's all I want to say.Please take care of your health.Thank you… and goodbye, Prince Lin Xu Yang.
—Han Shouyi
Yu Chen stood in silence, the letter still in his hand.
He wasn't surprised—not after reading Han Shou Yi's final words.
So, it's true...
Just as he had suspected, Xu Yang wasn't merely a clumsy, loud high school boy.
He was a prince.
Prince Lin Xu Yang.
The Lin name was a secret—one known only to a select, powerful few.
The royal family had erased it from public memory, buried it beneath layers of silence and shadow. Only those who moved in elite, hidden circles understood what that name meant.
Anyone who bore it carried royal blood.
"…What are you doing?"
A soft voice broke the silence behind him.
Yu Chen turned.
Xu Yang stood barefoot in the doorway, looking small and fragile.
His long hair was messy, and his face was pale and tired.
His swollen blue eyes still wet from crying, showed grief.
Yu Chen walked toward him, slow and steady, each step quiet in the empty house.
When he reached him, he lifted the letter between them.
"Your Highness," he said, his voice calm and certain.
Xu Yang blinked in confusion. "H-Huh? What are you—"
Yu Chen smirked and placed the letter into his hands.
Xu Yang froze.
He recognized the handwriting right away.
The envelope felt so heavy, as if it held not just paper… but his whole past.
Yu Chen slipped one hand into the pocket of his suit, his posture relaxed and almost casual.
With his other hand, he reached out and lightly brushed his fingers through Xu Yang's soft hair—a small, teasing touch that made Xu Yang's shoulders tense.
Then Yu Chen bent down, lowering his face to Xu Yang's level.
Up close, he could see the shine of tears on those long lashes and the nervous tremble in Xu Yang's clear blue eyes.
"Prince Lin," Yu Chen whispered, his voice low and smooth, meant only for him.
Xu Yang's eyes went wide.
He shook his head in disbelief, panic flickering across his face.
His lips parted like he wanted to deny it—but the letter in his hands said everything for him.
The room felt colder.
The air grew heavy.
And between them… was a truth that could no longer be hidden.
Yu Chen's smirk deepened—dark and certain.