Shu Mingye stepped into his chamber and shut the door behind him with a soft click. Finally. Silence. No more fake smiles, no more palace banquets, no more flute that made his ears bleed. Without wasting a second, he pulled off his robes and tossed them aside.
He changed into a plain black outfit made for sneaking around, not sitting around. He hadn't come to the palace just to escort a princess. The emperor had only summoned Princess Fu Yuxin, after all. Shu Mingye had invited himself. He already had another plan.
Over the past few years, he'd planted spies in the palace. Courtiers, servants, a tea boy with a suspiciously good memory, he had eyes and ears everywhere. According to their reports, the Prince of Hanyue had been captured and thrown into the west wing prison.
He sat down for a moment and pulled on his boots, tying the laces with a little more force than necessary. As he worked, his thoughts drifted back to the cold north, to snowstorms and ruined walls.
Hanyue.
Hanyue and Lingxu, both once outer states of the Yunyue realm. Hanyue, cradled in the northern mountains, where the wind howled and the snow never melted. And Lingxu, far to the south, wrapped in forest and mist. They were the two outermost states, stood outside the second layer of the great defense walls.
When the fourth wall fell, only the third remained between them and the demon realm.
Then thirteen years ago, Lingxu fell.
And the third wall shattered.
Hanyue was left standing in the snow, holding a broom and praying it could fend off demons. The people patched the wall the best they could. They fought. They froze. They survived. Sort of.
It was during that chaos that Shu Mingye had been exiled there, politely but firmly dumped. The emperor probably expected him to freeze or get eaten by demons. Or both.
King Han—out of pity, respect, or maybe just confusion—let him stay. He helped repair the wall. Fought off demons. Dug graves. Trained. It was a brutal, thankless life. He learned the names of everyone who died because there weren't enough soldiers. He built a life out of frost and blood.
Four years ago, the wall had broken again.
The patched-up wall finally gave out. This time, the demons didn't trickle in, they poured in like a flood. And just like that, Hanyue began to fall apart. The snow-covered north, already half-broken, couldn't take much more.
King Han didn't waste time. He sent a message straight to the capital. The request was simple: Send troops. We can't hold.
And what did the emperor do?
He sent soldiers… but not to Hanyue. He sent them to Shulin.
Because Shu Wenxu, Shu Mingye's lovely uncle, claimed the second wall near his territory was under attack. Big breach. Very scary. Definitely real.
It was perfect. A neat excuse.
The emperor, ever so "wise," sent all available troops south to help Shulin.
Shu Mingye had expected nothing less. The emperor wouldn't waste good soldiers on the frozen north. There was nothing up there but snow, demons, and one very inconvenient exiled prince. Why help when you could just let winter do the dirty work?
There was no profit, no glory, no power to gain, no warm bath waiting at the end. Just death, snow, and the faint smell of demon's breath. Besides, why risk troops when the north was already breaking?
The wall had broken, but King Han still fought. He led his remaining soldiers out. A glorious last stand that would make for excellent poetry someday, if anyone survived to write it. The reinforcements never came. Neither did King Han and his soldiers.
So Hanyue fell.
The emperor, of course, couldn't be blamed. Not when the emperor sent troops to defend the wall and fight the demons alongside the people of Shulin. Not when Shu Wenxu was singing his praises across every teahouse in Shulin. What a generous ruler! What a selfless act! People clapped. Some even cried. The collaboration was so perfect it made Shu Mingye's teeth ache.
At that time, Shu Mingye was barely alive. Broken ribs, blood everywhere, half-frozen, demon claw still stuck in his side like a decoration. It should've been the end.
But somehow, he miraculously survived.
And when he recovered, he did what any reasonable man would do—with the few soldiers who made it through the disaster with him, he marched south, and relieved his uncle of his head (and his throne).
Prince and Princess Han of fallen Hanyue also survived.
Shu Mingye had allowed them to stay in Shulin, even let Prince command what remained of Hanyue's soldiers under him on one condition: they didn't start setting fire to his state.
A reasonable request, really.
But Prince Han, simmering with grief and rage over his father's death and Hanyue's fall, had decided revenge was the only acceptable hobby. Shu Mingye didn't mind that. In fact, he welcomed it. The emperor was also the one behind Shu Mingye's parents' deaths. Shu Wenxu played the knife, but the emperor handed it to him.
The problem was… Prince Han was reckless.
Too reckless. Impulsive.
Shu Mingye didn't expect him to be so foolish. Without warning, Prince Han sneaked into the palace with a few of his guards, trying to kidnap Princess Fu Qingya, the emperor's precious First Princess.
What a ridiculous plan.
Shu Mingye still wasn't sure what they planned to do afterward. Send a ransom note? Demand the emperor apologize? Ask for wall repair money?
Even if they succeeded (which they didn't) did Prince Han really think the emperor would beg? Give in? Surrender the throne for one daughter? No way would that man kneel to anyone.
Princess Han came to him not long after. Teary-eyed. Desperate. Full of speeches. She begged him to rescue her brother from prison.
She begged him, truly begged him.
Shu Mingye almost laughed.
He'd almost slammed the door in her face.
He didn't like them. And he certainly didn't owe them. The only thing tying them together was a common enemy, not friendship. That, and the memory of their father, King Han. The only man who gave Shu Mingye a roof when the world had kicked him out into the snow. If not for King Han, Shu Mingye might've died out there in the snow. Forgotten. Eaten. Or worse… ignored.
And that was the card she played.
Those pair of siblings, the Princess and Prince of Hanyue, didn't even gave him a glance when he was just an exiled Prince. They had walked past him like he didn't even exist.
The one who did the favor was her father, yet she came demanding the price. It was irritating. And now, because of that old debt, he was stuck with this madness.
He started planning the prison break. Against better judgment. Against all logic.
It was reckless. Just like the rest of this mess. There would be blood. That was certain. There would be casualties. That was inevitable. The only thing he could do now was try to lessen the damage. Because there was no way to break someone out of the palace prison without the entire imperial guards noticing.
The plan had already started rolling. His spies were in place. The prison map was memorized. The guards' shift changes had been charted down to the second.
There was no clean way to do this.
But if it had to be done, then at least it would be done right. Or as close to "right".
While his mind wandered through memories of snow, demons, and badly made decisions, someone knocked on the door.
Shu Mingye opened it, half-expecting a servant or maybe a spy with news. Instead, there stood the fake princess.
She had changed out of her formal robes and was now dressed in casual white robes, easy to move in, casual but sharp. Her hair was tied back neatly, only a few simple hairpins holding it in place. Not a single one threatened to blind him. His eyes, for once, were safe.
She must've come straight from her private meeting with the emperor.
So. It was time, then?
What had the emperor given her? A mission? A threat? A cup of poison in a fancy teacup?
She said, calmly, "The emperor asked for your presence. Along with me. In the ancestral hall."
"I'm not going."
"Just come with me."
"Why would I come with you?"