Linyue, who also happened to be a fake princess with too many secrets and zero regard for bedtime, tiptoed through the shadows. She was making her way back to her chamber—sneakily, silently, and awkwardly.
Behind her, He Yuying followed. "We're going back to your chamber?" he asked, keeping his voice low but bored.
"Mhm," Linyue replied without slowing.
"Well, that's disappointing," he muttered. "The night is still high."
"What were you expecting?" she asked dryly.
"We've kidnapped a general," he said. "Why don't we also kidnap some snacks on the way back?"
Linyue stopped mid-step and gave him a blank look over her shoulder. "Good idea. A fake princess dressed like a thief and her guard break into the imperial kitchen in the middle of the night to steal buns. That won't raise suspicion at all."
"Not just buns," He Yuying corrected. "Imperial buns."
She stared.
He stared back.
She sighed. "Sure. Sure."
Then she turned and kept walking, ignoring him completely.
He followed with a happy bounce in his step. "We can also grab those golden sesame cakes. And that red bean jelly thing."
"Brother Yuying," she said calmly, "if we get arrested tonight, I'm leaving you behind."
"Can you leave me with the buns at least?"
"No."
"Cruel," he muttered. "So cruel."
Linyue ignored him. Again. Her mind was already five steps ahead, neatly ticking off a mental list of things she had planned. Spoiler: stealing buns was not one of them.
Everything tonight had been carefully arranged. Precision. Timing. Strategy. Absolute chaos, yes but intentional chaos.
First, she asked Shen Zhenyu to disguise himself as an imperial guard. Not that hard. He already looked mildly suspicious and had perfected the art of looking like he didn't want to be there. With all the chaos tonight, the real guards were probably running around like panicked chickens.
The palace would be sealed tight, escape routes watched, exits walled off, but who would notice one more guard in the mess? No one. Hopefully.
Then, because one disaster wasn't enough, she'd told Shen Zhenyu to stir up even more trouble. Why stop at a cozy little jailbreak in the west wing?
Let's upgrade it to a three-wing. West, south, and east. Set a few small fires, knock out a few lanterns, maybe tip over pot and vases along the way. Give the guards something to really panic about. And once the place was wild enough to qualify as a disaster, Shen Zhenyu would toss a paper talisman to General Zimo and return to the chamber.
Next, he had to become Shu Mingye. Sort of. Linyue had handed him jade dust powder and a set of dark robes that looked very "I might kill you if you speak."
Shen Zhenyu was almost the right height, and both he and Shu Mingye had the same tall, slender and brooding build. But that was where the similarities ended. One had the grace of a noble swordsman, and the other had the energy of a demon king. But still, it didn't have to be a perfect match. After all, Shu Mingye's reputation worked in their favor. With his colder-than-death expression and "accidentally murdered three people with one glare" energy, most people avoided eye contact or better, his entire existence.
The most important thing was she told Shen Zhenyu: if anyone ever come and knock on the door. Whatever the other party say, do not talk, do not say a word, just glare like you're contemplating murder or better, laugh like a lunatic (optional, but highly encouraged).
That should do it.
She knew the emperor would grow suspicious after tonight's beautifully choreographed mess. He'd send someone to check on Shu Mingye's chambers.
But if they peeked in and saw "Shu Mingye" sitting inside sipping his tea and eyes glowing with murderous intent (or just general sleep deprivation), then who would dare question him?
If it worked, no one would suspect a thing.
If it didn't… Linyue also thought of that possibility. If things went south, she planned to burn down the entire east chamber where they were staying. Just light it up. That would create enough smoke, panic, and flaming confusion for her and the others to slip out during the chaos. A bit dramatic, sure, but nothing said "emergency exit" like arson.
As for Song Meiyu, Linyue had given her a simpler but no less ridiculous job. Disguise as Princess Fu Yuxin. Apply jade dust powder. Wear something frilly and expensive. Look pretty and mysterious. Just in case someone did come knocking, it was better they saw a proper "princess" sitting in the room instead of an empty bed and a suspiciously missing identity.
"If anyone knocks," Linyue had said, "you sigh and pretend to be heartbroken. Maybe cry a little. But don't mess up the jade dust powder."
Song Meiyu was the best actress Linyue knew. She could cry on cue, fake faint like a champion, and recite tragic love poems while stuffing an entire pork bun in her mouth.
She'd probably improvise a whole fake monologue on the spot about how she, the poor misunderstood princess, had been betrayed by destiny and her hairdresser. She'd fine.
Well, probably fine.
Okay, maybe not fine.
Because Song Meiyu couldn't go with them. She had to stay behind and wait. And if there was one thing Song Meiyu hated more than bitter medicine and early mornings, it was not being in the middle of the drama.
She was definitely pouting right now. Probably kicking something. Maybe threatening Shen Zhenyu in a whisper just to feel better.
Linyue had already promised to tell her everything when it was over. Every step. Every twist. Every dramatic tunnel-turn and bug encounter. (Especially the bugs. Song Meiyu had a personal grudge against centipedes.)
It was going to be a long night. For all of them.
Song Meiyu was going to throw her arms dramatically over her face and wail, "You left me behind like a noble concubine! In winter! With no heater! No buns! No hope!"
He Yuying broke her deep, dramatic train of thought with a whisper that barely qualified as helpful.
"Is this the way to the imperial kitchen?"
Linyue blinked, looked at the bush they were currently crouching in, "I don't know. How would I know where the imperial kitchen is?"
They were both hunched over like awkward shrimp, creeping along the palace gardens, barely concealed by a very offended-looking bush. Leaves poked them. Dew got in their shoes. Regret was in the air.
He Yuying sniffed. "Try to follow the smell."
Linyue stared at him. "What smell? The smell of grass and poor decisions?"
"No. Food," he said seriously. "Meat. Buns. Something fried. I believe."
Linyue narrowed her eyes. "Right. Because clearly we are bloodhounds now. Maybe you should start barking."
He Yuying ignored her. "You just got back from a banquet. Aren't there leftovers?"
She gave him a long-suffering sigh. "Probably already eaten. By other starving palace servants who actually live here and aren't sneaking around like two very suspicious dogs."
He paused, thoughtful. "You think the imperial kitchen will be empty?"
"No," she replied flatly. "Especially not if there are two people crawling around stealing pastries."
He Yuying nodded gravely, scanning the area. Some palace guards were still dashing around in a panic from earlier chaos—shouting, bumping into each other.
"This is our chance," he whispered.
"To what? Get arrested?" Linyue muttered.
But it was too late. He Yuying was already moving, duck-waddling with great purpose in the direction of what he confidently declared smelled "slightly like roasted duck and destiny."
Linyue stared after him, then rubbed her temples and muttered, "This is how the realm fall, isn't it?"