The room smelled faintly of incense and tea leaves, warm and lingering. A low table sat in the middle, already set with cups and a pot of plum wine. Master Tian Mo lounged lazily on a cushion, his robe half loose, and a sly smile playing at his lips.
"Sit," he commanded, waving Shu Mingye over. "You survived my sparring. Now let's see if you can survive my wine."
Shu Mingye sat down across him with perfect posture and a polite smile. "Master is very generous. But I hold my liquor well."
Master Tian Mo's grin widened. "We'll see about that."
The first round was deceptively harmless. A toast, a light sip, nothing more. Shu Mingye stayed calm, his face as composed as ever.
The second round came quick. Master Tian Mo filled both cups to the brim, his movements unhurried but merciless. He lifted his own cup. "To young love," he said, voice heavy with theatrical grief, "and to foolish kings who dare steal my disciple."
Shu Mingye's brow twitched, just once, before he raised his cup. "To wise masters… who know when to let go."
Master Tian Mo snorted, then downed it in one gulp. Shu Mingye matched him, the plum wine slipping down like it was nothing.
The third round arrived before the second cup even touched the table. The air was heavier, full of laughter and spilled wine. Master Tian Mo leaned in, grinning wide. "Do you even know how stubborn she is? Linyue nearly burned down half the east wing when she was brewing tea once. Tea. And you think you can manage her?"
Shu Mingye, still somehow graceful, raised his cup. "I'll manage. I like challenges."
"Ha!" Master Tian Mo smacked the table. "That's what they all say before they cry!"
By the fifth round, Shu Mingye's perfect posture had loosened. His shoulders were less rigid, his voice softer, his smile unguarded. "She's… not a challenge. She's everything."
Master Tian Mo, mid-drink, paused. His brow arched high. Then he burst out laughing so hard wine sprayed from his nose. "Oh no. You're one of those hopeless types."
The seventh round turned into a full interrogation. "Do you know her favorite tea?"
"She likes soy milk more," Shu Mingye replied without hesitation.
"Her favorite snack?"
"Lotus seed pie and moon dumpling."
"Her favorite flower?"
"She doesn't care about flowers."
"Her favorite escape route when she's angry?"
"She doesn't escape. She burns things… or people."
Master Tian Mo leaned forward. "Do you know how many times she's called me brilliant?"
Shu Mingye's eyes narrowed. "…Zero?"
"Correct." Master Tian Mo grinned, pouring another round.
By the ninth round, Shu Mingye was leaning an elbow on the table. His perfectly tied hair had loosened. A stray strand stuck out rebelliously. His sharp eyes were softer now, unfocused from too much wine and too much life reflection.
"Master Tian Mo…" he said gravely, pointing a finger at him. "Tell me honestly. Am I… dramatic?"
There was a pause. Then Master Tian Mo's laughter exploded so hard it rattled the windows and made a startled bird fly off the roof. "You're dramatic, yes. But at least you're entertaining. Most kings are just boring."
Shu Mingye nodded, as if this was profound wisdom. "Good. She likes dramatic."
By the twelfth round, he was still drinking. Somehow still alive. But there was a faint flush on his face and his words came out a little slower.
Master Tian Mo poured again. "What side does she sleep on?"
Shu Mingye answered without hesitation. "Left."
"Wrong." Master Tian Mo slapped the table, triumphant. "She rolls in her sleep. She belongs to no side."
Shu Mingye frowned. "…Then I'll be her side."
Master Tian Mo actually choked on his wine. "Hopeless!" he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. "Utterly hopeless."
By the fifteenth round, Shu Mingye's regal aura had vanished. His head rested on his folded arms, his voice muffled but determined. "I won't let her go," he said softly, almost like he was speaking to the wine cup in his hand instead of the man across from him. "Even if she burns me alive with lightning one day… I won't let her go."
Master Tian Mo, tipsy but still sharp, heard it. For a moment, his grin softened into something close to approval.
The drinking went on. The wine kept flowing. Shu Mingye's determination never wavered, but Master Tian Mo still hadn't said yes to the idea of him marrying Linyue. And by the end of it all, Shu Mingye was gently guided out of the room by a servant. His hair was slightly messier, his steps slower, and he was muttering under his breath about pies and love and lightning.
Left alone in the quiet, Master Tian Mo leaned back with a grin. "Ah… young love. So noisy."