"I'll close the passage door first," she said casually. Too casual for someone who was about to seal off the crime scene of a very illegal general abduction.
Then she turned and left.
Her supposed bodyguard/partner-in-crime/stabbing assistant, still dusting tunnel dirt off his sleeve stared after her, then went back to inspecting his bent sword. "This better come with hazard pay. Or at least two steamed buns."
Boyi, meanwhile, was having a full spiritual crisis under the weight of one unconscious, drooling war general. Zimo didn't even stir. Just slumped over, one eye closed, the other... well, missing. A thin stream of drool slid down the corner of his mouth.
By the time Linyue returned, Shu Mingye had already memorized every crack in the tunnel wall out of sheer confusion. She didn't say a word. Just took the lead again, turning left, then right, then left again, then crouching under a suspicious rock shelf like she'd spent her childhood playing hide-and-seek in this ancient death maze. Her pace was quick, her expression calm. No panic. No hesitation.
At some point Shu Mingye started to wonder if she was leading them to safety… or just to get lost forever.
Then, without warning, she stopped.
"I'll tell you the rest of the way from here," she said, turning to face them.
He frowned. "What about you?"
"I have something to do."
Of course she did. Why wouldn't she? Kidnapping a general and stabbing him in the eyeball was clearly just a warm-up. Naturally, she had other appointments. Probably more stabbing. Or blackmail. Or feeding orphans. With her, it was impossible to guess.
Was this her idea of a side quest?
Predictably, she didn't explain. Instead, she launched into a surprisingly detailed explanation of which tunnel to take, how many steps to count, and which weird rock shaped like a chicken to turn left at.
He gave her a long, tired look. "If we get lost, I'm blaming you."
Linyue just shrugged. "Then just get lost and blame me."
Shu Mingye narrowed his eyes at her.
She ignored it and asked instead, "Are you going back to the palace or leaving with them?"
Shu Mingye raised an eyebrow. "What about you? Are you going back?"
"Of course. The others are waiting."
Right. Of course. The chaos crew. The other energetic maid and tall quiet guard. He hadn't seen them. Of course they were waiting. Probably doing something dramatic. Or stupid. Or both.
Shu Mingye thought for a second, then said, "Same with me."
"Then let's meet here again later," she said.
And before he could even say "sure" or "wait a minute," she was already gone—vanishing down the tunnel with her mildly injured but deeply unbothered guard.
He stared at the empty corridor she left behind.
"… Did she just make a kidnapping look like a casual errand run?" he muttered.
...
After parting ways with Shu Mingye and his group, Linyue turned to the other side of the tunnel with purpose in her steps and also a bit of dirt on her face that she didn't notice.
"Brother Yuying, are you okay?" she asked, glancing sideways. He got thrown to the wall after all.
He Yuying sighed dramatically. "I'm not okay," he said, voice full of sorrow. "No snacks. Not even a moldy bun. Just dust. And mold. I'm mentally bruised."
"We'll get snacks after we leave the imperial palace," she said cheerfully. "There are a lot of foods in the capital we have to try."
At that, He Yuying perked up. "I've done research. I made a list. Categorized by price, spice level, and how likely it is to stain clothes."
"Great," Linyue said, completely serious as if snacks were now part of their important mission.
They turned corner after corner, twisted through side paths, and ducked under cobwebs. Then, without warning, Linyue stopped.
"Brother Yuying," she said, pointing toward a particularly dark section of tunnel, "you remember the plan, right?"
He Yuying gave a lazy shrug. "Just picking up some papers. What's so hard? I'm not stealing anyone's wife."
"Exactly," Linyue said.
Before he could respond, she added, "We go separately from here."
He gave her a single nod and he darted off into the shadows.
Linyue paused, took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. She had already wasted far too much time dealing with Zimo and his one less eyeball. She picked up her pace. Twist, turn, duck under suspicious cobwebs, ignore the whispery sounds behind the walls. Normal stuff.
Finally, she skidded to a stop in front of… a wall.
Just a plain, boring, unsuspicious wall.
To most people, it was a dead end. But Linyue wasn't most people. She knew better. Years ago, she'd studied this tunnel's structure.
She placed her palm against the dusty and moldy cold stone. She focused, condensing her spiritual energy into her hand. A low rumble trembled through the ground. The wall shuddered and then slowly slid open, revealing a dark hidden room.
Linyue stepped into the secret room, immediately greeted by a thick cloud of dust that attacked her face. She coughed so hard. Eyes watering, dignity slipping, and muttered something deeply un-princess-like under her breath.
The room was dark, filled with shelves stacked high with forgotten scrolls and weapons that had clearly seen better centuries. Some swords looked like they might snap if you even looked at them wrong. One particularly crooked sword in the corner seemed to glare at her as if to say, "Don't touch me. I'm retired."
She made her way to the far corner of the room, stepping carefully to avoid tripping over a stray spear or waking up a very offended rat. In that corner stood a giant wardrobe—wooden, ancient, and completely covered in dust thick enough to qualify as insulation.
Linyue gave the wardrobe a small pat. A big mistake.
A mountain of dust exploded in her face. She coughed again, waved her hand furiously, and blinked through the gray haze.
"Congratulations," she muttered to herself, "you've unlocked dust spiritual energy."
Still wheezing slightly, she reached for the creaking handle and opened the wardrobe door slowly because in places like this, rushing usually meant curses, traps, or ghosts.
Time to find out if this particular wardrobe led to what she was looking for.
Inside the ancient wardrobe were several dusty chests, stacked—each one somehow heavier and more offended by her touch than the last. She dug through them quickly, sending clouds of dust into the air. At the very bottom, there it was. A jade box, so beautiful and elegant it looked like it had absolutely no business being in this underground storage nightmare. Delicate carvings ran along the surface, like creeping vines frozen in time.
She opened it, and there it was: a few strange, precious things.
First, a simple yet elegant flute made out of dark green jade.
Next, black silk clothes embroidered with shiny gold thread in patterns that looked suspiciously like worms and lizards doing a dance battle around the collar, sleeves and run across the edge.
And last, a hairpin made out of pale milky white jade, at its tip was a delicately carved gardenia blossom.
Linyue smiled. This was the main reason she came to the palace. Not for revenge. Not even for politics. Just to steal back some old stuff. Kidnapping Zimo was just a fun little side quest.
She picked up the flute with care, then turned back to the wardrobe and yanked out a smaller wooden box. She popped it open, and without so much as a glance, dumped all the sparkly jewelry inside onto the floor. Necklaces, gold rings, shiny pins, probably enough to buy a small mountain.
Not my style, she thought.
Into the now-empty wooden box, she tucked the embroidered black clothes and the gardenia hairpin. She shut it with a firm click, held the jade flute in one hand and the box in the other, then turned and strolled out of the secret room.
She placed her palm on the wall, let her spiritual energy hum through her fingers, and the stone slid shut behind her sealing the dust, the memories, and probably a very confused rat back inside.
And then, with her chin high and sleeves still lightly dusted with the past, Linyue marched off toward the meeting spot.