Shu Mingye barely slept a wink.
He tossed. He turned. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
Her smile kept flashing in his mind. Sweet, dangerous, and far too distracting. The soft, fresh scent of gardenia that clung to her skin lingered in his memory. And worst of all… the kiss. That kiss was a curse. A sweet, dizzying, impossible-to-forget curse that had wedged itself between his ribs and refused to leave.
He let out a long, tragic sigh and rolled onto his side, throwing an arm over his eyes. "She said she didn't dislike it…" he muttered into the darkness. "So… does that mean she liked it?"
Silence answered him. Not even the crickets outside bothered to weigh in. But a smile still crept onto his face, slow and traitorous.
She hadn't pushed him away. She hadn't slapped him. She hadn't even stomped that hard. That had to mean something. Maybe… maybe he had a chance. The thought made his chest feel light and his brain feel stupid. Which was probably why he groaned and dragged a pillow over his face.
This was a first. The first time in his life he had ever lost sleep over feelings. Over emotions. Over a woman who stomped on his foot and ran away without even saying goodbye. And somehow, she had won. Completely.
When the sun finally peeked over the horizon, he got up with a mission. He would go straight to the palace kitchen and demand the finest breakfast in the palace for her. Something good. Something warm. Something bribe-worthy.
He had barely taken three steps out of his chamber when a servant skidded into his path.
"Lord!" The boy's voice cracked halfway through the word. "The miss's friend is in the kitchen. The loud one. She's, um… cooking."
"The loud one?"
"The one who calls you Demon King behind your back," the boy whispered, looking like he was about to faint.
Ah. Song Meiyu. Of course. Although, if they were being honest, she didn't exactly keep that insult behind his back. She and the others practically held a rotating schedule for calling him Demon King to his face.
He let out a long, dramatic sigh. So much for his glorious breakfast plan. Fine. Plan B, then. He would go directly to Linyue's chamber. Preferably before breakfast arrived. Preferably before the loud one turned a simple bowl of congee into a full-scale disaster.
It was a clean, noble, strategic plan. Full of intention. Until he reached her door and stopped dead.
There were voices. From inside.
One was unmistakably Linyue's, calm but laced with irritation. "Just give it to me!"
A man's voice answered, lazy and teasing. "Then say I'm the best."
Shu Mingye's brain promptly flatlined. That voice. That very male voice. Shanjun?!
What was Shanjun doing in Linyue's chamber? At this hour? In the morning? Shu Mingye's frown deepened with every passing second. Morning visits were suspicious. Morning conversations were even more suspicious. And why was that man trying to get her to call him the best? She had never said that to him. Not even once.
Linyue's voice snapped again, louder this time. "No way! Why would you come if you don't want to give it to me?"
Shu Mingye blinked.
Give what? What could Shanjun possibly have that she wanted? Something so important she'd argue over it? Why didn't she ask him first? He would've given her everything.
Then came Shanjun's reply, playful and smug. "Didn't you always say that when you want something from me?"
Shu Mingye: "??!!"
Always?!
Wait. WAIT. She always told Shanjun "you're the best" whenever she wanted something? Since when?!
His royal brain was overheating. His jealousy screamed in the background. She never said he was the best! Not even once! Now he was standing here, stiff, mildly betrayed, and 100% certain of one thing: It should've been him in that room. Preferably being told he was the best.
Without a second thought, without even knocking (because patience was for people not possibly being betrayed), Shu Mingye lifted his foot and—BAM!
He kicked the door open. Again.
Linyue and Shanjun both jumped in shock.
Shanjun was holding a plate in his hands. Linyue, halfway across the room, had her arms stretched out, clearly this close to grabbing whatever delicious treasure lay on that plate.
For one long, breathless moment, the three of them just stared at each other.
The air was tense. Silent and dramatic.
Shu Mingye's eyes narrowed dangerously. "...What are you doing?"
Shanjun blinked. "...Breakfast?"
Linyue blinked back. "...Stealing breakfast?"
Shu Mingye slowly turned his head to Linyue. "From him?"
Linyue, unbothered by the storm gathering in front of her, glanced at Shu Mingye. Then at the door he had just kicked open. It was still intact. Miraculously.
Hm, she thought. Sturdier door. Good improvement.
Then she looked back at Shu Mingye and said plainly, "He has my favorite moon dumpling."
There was a pause.
Shu Mingye stared at her as if she had just declared her undying love to a steamed snack.
Moon dumpling?! That's what this whole situation was about?! He had already imagined every worst-case scenario. Affairs. Betrayal. A secret romance. Maybe even a plot to assassinate him with poisoned tea. His jealousy had summoned full battle mode. He was this close to summoning his sword. And all the while, they were fighting for… dumplings. So after all that, his greatest enemy was… flour and fillings?
His eyes narrowed as he turned to Shanjun. "How do you know she likes them?"
Linyue glanced at Shanjun first. His confident smirk was gone. His face was crumpled, his shoulders stiff, and he was still clutching the plate of moon dumplings. Then she turned to Shu Mingye. His brows were drawn, his jaw clenched, and his lips pressed into a thin, dangerous line. And his eyes—those dark, burning eyes—looked ready to set both Shanjun and the dumplings on fire.
Linyue blinked slowly. Was this… jealousy? Shu Mingye didn't seem like the type to sulk or throw silent fits, but the tension in his jaw and the storm brewing in his eyes said otherwise. He looked like he was one poorly chosen word away from burning the entire room. She needed to handle this carefully. Preferably before anyone or anything caught fire.
She weighed her options. She didn't want to lie. But the truth… was complicated. So she went with something halfway. A safe, simple, undeniable fact.
"He was my…" she began carefully.
"Nanny," she said.
"Partner in crime," Shanjun said at the same time.
They both paused. Both of them turned to look at each other.
"…What was that about?" Linyue asked, her voice flat.
Shanjun shrugged like it was no big deal. "Well, it's true."
Linyue frowned. "You can't announce it openly."
Shanjun looked at her, dead serious. "You were the one who made me steal moon dumpling from the Crown Prince's table."
"You ate them too!"
"And the Imperial Kitchen! Twice."
"I was hungry!" she snapped back.
Shu Mingye's head was moving back and forth between them. His expression went from confused to alarmed to deeply suspicious. He slowly raised a hand. "Can someone explain what kind of partner in crime this is?"
"I was five," Linyue replied.
"She still made the plans," Shanjun grumbled, glaring at her. "I just did the running."
"I was a strategic genius," Linyue muttered, sounding almost proud.
Shu Mingye stared at the two of them bickering like siblings. He narrowed his eyes slightly. His frown deepened. How did they even know each other? The way they talked—so casually, so comfortably—it was like they had a whole secret history.
When she was five? Crown Prince? Imperial kitchen? Just who was she?
He had so many questions. They were stacking in his head. But he already knew, just like the last time, she wouldn't answer. She always brushed it off or said something nonsense. And he didn't want to push. Not her. Not when her walls were still so high. So he bit his tongue, held back all the questions clawing at him, and just watched her with a quiet, unreadable expression. Maybe… one day she'd tell him herself.
He let out a long sigh. Slowly, he raised a hand and pointed toward the door. "Leave," he said firmly.
Linyue blinked. "…Leave?"
Was he kicking her out?
She frowned, caught off guard. Well… to be fair, she had hidden a lot from him. She still wasn't ready to talk about it, and he looked annoyed. Hurt. A little betrayed. And very much like a man who needed to punch a pillow or possibly Shanjun.
Awkwardly, she nodded, her feet shuffling toward the door. Behind her, Shanjun trailed along silently, still clutching the plate of moon dumplings.
Shu Mingye watched them go, his face unreadable. And then, just as her hand touched the door handle, his voice cut through the room.
"…Not you. Him."