On the other side of the alley, perched like a shadow among shadows, Shu Mingye watched the unfolding theatrical performance play out in silence. He came expecting a secret meeting of some sort and instead found himself at front-row of an unscripted comedy.
He had followed them the moment they left the inn. He didn't trust the princess. He didn't trust her "maid" with too much energy. He certainly didn't trust that suspiciously handsome guard who walked like a swordsman and smiled like a gentleman and probably wasn't either.
He had hoped to catch them sneaking off to do something suspicious. Secret meetings, illicit exchanges, shady dealings in the night. Something to confirm his ever-growing suspicion that this little princess group wasn't as harmless as they looked.
What he got… was a cursed puppet show.
What kind of absurd circus had he stumbled into?
He watched as the "maid" flailed her limbs in all directions, hopping on one foot, yelling proudly as she kicked an assassin into the air.
He watched the swordsman's face twist into something so horrible and unnatural that the final assassin ran away in full panic, crashing into half the alley furniture on the way out. His smile could now haunt children in their dreams.
And he watched the princess—a princess—who casually slapped the poor assassin across the alley with her plank hand(?).
Shu Mingye blinked once. Then again. Slowly. As if each blink was an attempt to restart his brain.
When the masked assassins first jumped down, he had leaned forward slightly, deciding whether he should step in. If these people died here, it might save him a great deal of effort. Fewer people to watch. Fewer tangled mysteries to unravel. No more pretending to smile at liars. But even as he debated, the fight was over before it truly began.
The attackers were thrown around, smacked down, kicked, folded, and scattered across the alley. It was fast. It was wild. It was ridiculous.
No graceful swordplay. No polished techniques. No impressive displays of spiritual energy. Just a half-paralyzed smile, a stiff leg, a wooden hand, and pure, unfiltered nonsense.
And then… there was her.
He squinted at the princess, who dusted off her stiffened hand like it had always been a weapon.
Everything about her screamed contradiction.
The Second Princess, as far as every record, rumor, and royal report went, couldn't fight her way out of a flower field. To the point that even the laundresses would whisper about her fragile constitution and delicate limbs. He had done his research. Extensively.
But this one? She didn't even flinch. She slapped.
His lips curled slightly.
That girl was definitely not the real Princess.
So, who was she? An imposter? An actress hired by Concubine Xiang to stand in for her sheltered daughter? It was possible. Plausible, even. There were many possibilities, and every single one was more interesting than the last.
"Hmm," he murmured to himself, watching her retreating figure as she calmly exited the alley with her strange group—one still limping, one still smiling like a cursed painting.
"If this is a play... then I'd like front-row seats."
As the four unlikely victors strolled out of the alley, Shu Mingye emerged from the shadows. The alley was quiet now. The only sounds came from the groans of the defeated assassins scattered on the ground, all of them too broken to move but still clinging to the hope that no one would slap them again.
With a simple flick of his fingers, the silence shifted.
Several dark figures stepped out from nearby walls and rooftops. They moved without speaking, their steps light, their faces hidden. They worked fast, picking up the unconscious bodies with movements that showed far too much experience with this exact situation.
A groan escaped from one of the bodies as he was hoisted away. No one responded. Shu Mingye didn't even spare them a glance. His focus remained fixed on the direction the odd group had taken.
He didn't understand them. They defied logic. Broke expectations. Used stiff limbs and terrifying smiles as weapons. He wasn't sure if they were fools, reckless, clever, lucky or some rare fusion of all.
Shu Mingye adjusted the sleeve of his robe. The fabric moved without a sound. Then he let out a quiet breath through his nose. There was a smile on his lips now. Just a faint one.
"Let's see how long this little theatre can hold its act," he whispered.
Then, without waiting, without giving orders, without another sound, he stepped back into the shadows.
And once again, the alley fell completely silent.
.....
As the group stepped out of the dark alley, brushing past broken crates and the lingering scent of bruised pride, Linyue came to a sudden stop. Her eyes sharpened. Her posture straightened. Her crooked, stiffened hand still hung awkwardly at her side, but her expression had turned serious. Very serious.
"We have something important to do," she declared.
Song Meiyu perked up instantly. Her whole body lit with energy—half of it. Her good leg bounced eagerly. The other tried to join, gave a weak attempt, and mostly dragged behind in protest.
"Is it time for the secret mission?! Finally?" Song Meiyu gasped, eyes shining with hope.
Linyue turned around, face grim. The atmosphere thickened. Even Shen Zhenyu shifted slightly, sensing the change.
"No," she said firmly.
They all froze.
Her voice dropped lower. "We must find…"
She paused for dramatic effect.
"… the merchant."
Silence.
Shen Zhenyu blinked once. Then again. He tilted his head slightly, uncertain if he had misheard.
He Yuying's half-functioning smile twitched. The side of his face still frozen made the movement look oddly intense.
"… The merchant?" Song Meiyu echoed. Her earlier excitement stumbled. Her stiff leg trembled slightly, unsure how to emotionally respond.
"Yes!" Linyue nodded with full conviction. "That potent long lasting spring water! It's a hidden weapon in disguise!"
She lifted her stiff right hand, waving it up and down. "Think about it. If it can harden parts of the body, then it will be useful in a fight, right?"
Song Meiyu made a noise somewhere between amazement and concern.
Linyue went on. "Then imagine splashing it on an enemy! Instant paralysis! They'd be frozen mid-attack! It's brilliant!"
She looked absolutely radiant with excitement. Her eyes sparkled. She radiated purpose. Determination. Victory.
The other three stared at her, unmoving. Not from paralysis. Just... mental collapse.
Shen Zhenyu cleared his throat and slowly turned his face upward. His eyes searched the quiet sky for explanation.
Song Meiyu blinked once. Then again. Her neck turned at a painful speed toward the others. Her mouth opened slightly. Then closed. Then opened again. She considered falling over just to stop the conversation.
He Yuying's left eye twitched again—his half-frozen face trying to express something between horror, denial, and deep spiritual regret.
Because yes. The water worked.
Yes. It had hardened their limbs.
But no. It was not a forgotten martial arts secret. It was not an ancient hidden technique passed down in scrolls. It was not meant for battlefield usage.
By now, all three of them had silently, without words, realized what that mysterious "Potent Long-Lasting Spring Water" actually was.
And it wasn't spiritual.
It was medical.
It was designed to firm, smooth, and tighten very specific areas of the body for reasons none of them wanted to say out loud.
Yet Linyue—standing there proudly, holding up her unbending hand—clearly hadn't reached the same conclusion.
An She was glowing with joy. Her voice firm. Her logic sound only to herself. Her mind full of plans involving new slap-based martial arts and miracle potent water.
The three exchanged one collective thought: How do we explain this?