"It wasn't flirting," Linyue said quickly. Too quickly. The words shot out before her brain could put up a warning sign.
This was not how she imagined the infamous demon king of Shulin would behave. Where was the terrifying aura? The bone-chilling menace? The stories said he bathed in blood. Some even said he drank it for breakfast. Instead, she got a grinning, insufferable man who seemed to take way too much pleasure in her suffering.
What a mismatch.
"Sure, sure," Shu Mingye replied, voice light, tone completely unconvinced.
It was the answer people gave when they didn't believe you at all but were too polite or too entertained to argue.
And because the universe hated her, he burst into even louder laughter. Not evil villain laughter. Not dark overlord laughter. This was genuine, shoulders-shaking, eyes-crinkling, actual human laughter that make his stupidly handsome face light up like an idiot sun.
It was deeply upsetting.
Linyue narrowed her eyes at him, very seriously considering whether she could kick him off the horse without breaking both their necks. Probably not. But she could dream.
And behind them, the rest of the group stared.
"… Did he just laugh?" He Yuying whispered like he had seen something unholy.
Song Meiyu gave a slow nod, clutching her half-eaten bun. "I think he blushed too."
He Yuying frowned. "Should we call a physician?"
Shen Zhenyu just sighed.
Meanwhile, Shu Mingye was doing his absolute best not to laugh again or worse, smile like a complete fool. What was happening to him?
He glanced at the person sitting in front of him. Still completely calm. Still pretending that nothing strange had happened. Still very much unaware that she had just turned his usually cold, quiet morning into a chaotic swirl of confusion, compliments, and very inconvenient thoughts.
Who had sent this group into his life?
A fake princess, a dramatic maid, a quiet swordsman, and another one who probably spent more time snacking than training. They were a little strange group with martial arts skills and an endless talent for turning his life upside down. That was his current reality.
And to his surprise... he didn't hate it.
Now that he was sure she wasn't the real Second Princess, he actually felt relieved. No royal duties. No political headaches. Just a walking disaster group who knew how to fight, argue, and throw his plans into the wind. Less politics, more chaos. It suited them.
Maybe, he should send a thank-you note to whoever arranged this. A box of exploding flower vase? Bouquet of poisonous flowers? Something respectful, yet expressive. Something that said: "Thanks for ruining my life in the most entertaining way possible."
Because if this strange group could stir up this much nonsense in just one day… he was genuinely excited to see what kind of ridiculous, shocking, or outright absurd surprises they would bring next.
For the first time in a long, cold, very serious life, Shu Mingye found himself looking forward to the next sunrise.
The morning sun rose slowly above the hills, casting soft golden light over the road ahead.
And so, the journey to the palace continued with slightly more laughter, a bit more chaos, and a demon king who was starting to smile more than he probably should.
The rest of the journey passed in silence, thankfully. Just hooves clopping on dirt and everyone pretending the morning hadn't been awkward and weirdly emotional.
At last, the grand palace gates came into view.
They opened slowly. Very slowly. With a long creak that clearly wanted attention. Someone in charge definitely spent too much time making sure the hinges were dramatic enough for a royal entrance. Mission accomplished.
Rows of palace guards lined both sides of the path. Shiny armor, perfect posture, faces carved out of stone. Not one of them blinked. Their eyes followed everything—the riders, the horses, probably even the slightly uneven stitching on Song Meiyu's robe. It wasn't a warm welcome. It was a warning delivered through silence and muscle: Welcome. We're watching you. Closely.
Linyue's gaze drifted lazily across them. Left row, right row, more shiny helmets, more cold stares—
And then she stopped.
At the very front stood a man. Tall. Still. His face unreadable. The scar near his left brow was still there. So were those eyes—cold, sharp, the kind that could slice through your soul without moving a single muscle.
General Zimo.
One of the emperor's most trusted sword. One of the people who had helped Fu Jingtao secure the throne.
She didn't need to hear his name. Her body remembered him before her brain did. He hadn't changed. Not his stance. Not his presence.
Her heartbeat skipped. Once. Just once.
The memories rushed back. The fire. Her brother's voice shouting behind her. The sound of a blade being drawn. Palace crumbling, not just the walls, but everything that held her world together. She had buried it. Locked it in the farthest corner of her heart.
But now, those cold eyes looked at her again. And the corner cracked.
Feelings that had been forgotten, pushed far, far down—stuffed into the darkest—suddenly surged back with no warning. Anger. Hatred. The deep, burning urge to throw a rock. Or a fist. Or a well-aimed chair. Preferably right at him.
A storm brewed in Linyue's chest. Too loud. Too fast. Too strong. It pressed against her lungs, sharp and hot. She couldn't breathe for a moment. Her hand moved before she could think. Her hand reached out and gripped Shu Mingye's arm, the one wrapped snugly around her waist.
Shu Mingye's brow twitched. She had been fine. Literally two seconds ago, she was sitting there like the calmest, quietest headache in the world. Now… something shifted. Her face hadn't moved much. Still blank. Still composed.
But there were cracks now.
Tiny ones. Hard to see, but impossible to ignore once spotted. Her gaze had sharpened. Her jaw had locked. Her whole body had gone still. Shu Mingye studied her, eyes narrowing slightly.
Was that… rage?
Or maybe something worse?
Constipation?
He squinted at her, not sure which was worse.
He considered asking but wisely decided against it. Why would he care? But, his arm around her waist tightened slightly. Protective. Instinctive. Or possibly an attempt to keep her from jumping off the horse and kicking someone into their next life.
Behind them, Song Meiyu leaned back toward He Yuying and whispered, "Are they having a moment?"
He Yuying smirked. "More like she's contemplating murder. Look at her eyes."
Before Song Meiyu could whisper something else entirely unhelpful again, the man in front of them moved.
General Zimo stepped forward, armor gleaming under the sun. His face was stone and his tone stiffer than stone. "The emperor has been waiting for the princess's arrival."
Linyue's expression shifted so fast it almost deserved applause. Her spine straightened. Her shoulders lifted. Her face calmed.
"I know," she said, voice steady, not too loud, not too soft. Perfect.
Shu Mingye gave her a sideways glance. Ah, yes. This version again. The proper one. Polite, graceful, and hiding knives behind her smile. He didn't trust it, but he respected it.
They dismounted in silence. Everyone suddenly on their best behavior. The palace gates closed behind them with a heavy thud.
Palace maids appeared. Silent. Smiling without meaning it. They moved like shadows trained to hold trays and secrets at the same time. Linyue followed without complaint. Song Meiyu trailing close behind her like a loyal duckling. The corridor was filled with carved pillars, painted ceilings, and every expensive material the empire could afford. Linyue didn't look at any of it. She didn't care.
Her chamber was at the eastern wing. Close enough to be checked on. Far enough that they could pretend it was privacy.
Meanwhile, Shen Zhenyu and He Yuying were led off in the opposite direction by guards who didn't speak unless spoken to, off to their own chambers. Possibly luxury prisons. Hard to say with this palace.
And as for Shu Mingye?
The emperor, being very considerate (or very suspicious), had thoughtfully assigned him a room right next to Linyue's.
Coincidence? Probably not.
It was probably for convenience, in case the emperor decided she should poison or stab him before dinner. Or entertainment, if the emperor wanted to see how long it took before they murdered each other.
Linyue stepped into the chamber with a long sigh.
The room was large. Grand. Too many carved details. Too many silk curtains. Too much scented wood in the air. It smelled faintly like sandalwood and political schemes.
Song Meiyu immediately got to work. She pulled out layers of elegant clothing fit for a royal, silks so smooth they could slide off a table and cause diplomatic trouble. With careful hands, she helped Linyue change into a dress that screamed "Look at me, I'm important!" even though Linyue would've been happier in something that let her kick someone in the face.
Then came the hair.
Song Meiyu got serious. No nonsense. Hairpins began appearing out of nowhere. One hairpin, two hairpins, three… ten. Maybe more. Each more sparkly and "imperial" than the last. By the time she was done, Linyue looked like she had an entire jewelry shop shining from her head. Her hair could reflect sunlight straight into someone's eyes from twenty steps away. Possibly a weapon in itself.
Linyue stared at her reflection in the polished bronze mirror. The person looking back at her was elegant. Poised. Radiating nobility from every hairpin to every sleeve fold. Also far too shiny for someone planning to survive a suspicious royal banquet.
She gave a long, tired blink.
Shu Mingye was the King of Shulin. He couldn't just take a long vacation and leave his territory unattended. The emperor clearly had something planned. A warm welcome, sure. But also probably a plan buried under smiles and polite words.
A palace maid had already informed them earlier: a grand welcome banquet had been prepared.
Linyue stood in front of the mirror, giving her outfit one last adjustment. She smoothed down the sleeves of her glittering, I-am-very-important robe, took a long breath, and muttered with perfect dryness, "Well then. Time to smile, nod, and not stab anyone."
Song Meiyu grinned. "That's the spirit, Princess."