The sun blazed harshly in the sky, its heat pressing down upon the palace grounds. It was the season when the air grew heavy, when leaves curled at their edges beneath the relentless light, and when the ponds shimmered with warmth like bowls of molten glass. The royal hot springs lay before Yunxi like a small lake, its surface steaming faintly. Along the water, trailing vines floated lazily, their leaves grazing the ripples but never sinking.
Yunxi sat upon a stone a few steps away from the springs, his slender frame draped in a pale blue gown, the fabric light as though woven from mist. His long red hair glowed against the brightness of the day, his eyes clear as light blue crystals, and his lips softly pink. For a moment, he seemed to belong to the scenery itself—an ethereal figure who gazed in quiet admiration at the world around him.
At the springs, Han Ji stepped into the water. His long black hair fell down his back like silk, and his grown body was a sculpted testament to manhood—broad shoulders, honed muscles, and a commanding presence that drew every gaze. Yunxi was no exception. He watched quietly as a maidservant attended the prince, helping him bathe.
Han Ji had long since learned to keep his distance from Yunxi. To distract himself from the boy who lingered too dangerously in his heart, he had turned instead to others. It became his routine—to surround himself with women, with company, with noise—until he convinced himself that he had moved on. He began to treat Yunxi like a younger brother, nothing more. He brought him along to gatherings, but only to leave him aside as he himself made merry with girls.
Yunxi had grown used to watching from the shadows. He could not bring himself to approach Han Ji when he was surrounded by laughter, embraces, and stolen kisses. Sometimes, he wondered what he was supposed to do—was he expected to join, to try, to throw himself at someone? But Yunxi was not the type. The girls were older, and he thought it was disrespectful to behave so. So he remained on the outside, silently watching, even as desire flickered painfully inside him.
This morning he had complained, "It's too hot these days. I don't think I'll go out."
Han Ji had only looked at him, his expression unreadable, before turning to the other princes and officials' sons. "Let's go," he had said simply.
In the past, Han Ji would have pulled Yunxi along no matter how much he resisted. But now, when Yunxi said no, he did not insist. That difference struck Yunxi harder than he could admit, so when other pleaded with him, he had long since agreed. Perhaps he wanted to go—but he also wanted Han Ji to force him, to hold onto him as he once had. Now that he did not… Yunxi felt abandoned to his core.
Had Han Ji found his place with others? Perhaps. Even when Yunxi delayed in answering letters, Han Ji no longer sent a second one. He had moved on—or perhaps he had simply stopped wanting Yunxi. The thought festered within him, and he hated it.
Today, Yunxi had come to the bath as well. When the other boys invited him, he had not rejected the idea outright, but Han Ji spoke before anyone else could.
"He would say no anyway. Why waste your breath?"
The words cut deeper than Yunxi expected. Still, it was not what truly burned him. What broke him was what followed. When the girls arrived, Han Ji's delight was unmatched. He laughed, flirted, touched them openly, speaking of how he could never live without the company of women.
Yunxi's chest tightened unbearably. The laughter, the movements, the murmurs—they all blurred into echoes that pounded in his ears. His vision burned, his eyes rimmed with tears he could not stop.
"Hey, is he crying? Hey, Yunxi! Kim Yunxi!"
They had all stopped to look at him. His eyes, sharp and unblinking, glared across the spring. Fury burned in them—fury aimed at Han Ji. The others glanced between the two princes, the tension thickening the air. Han Ji himself looked unsettled, almost confused, as if wondering what had changed.
Yunxi did not wait for questions. He stood abruptly and ran. Several boys tried to follow, but Han Ji did not move. When Yunxi had gone, he only carried the girl in his arms and left as well.
That was long time ago
---
Now, in the present, princess Yura, Hanying and Jing had resolved to follow Yunxi at any cost. They had discovered hints of a stalker shadowing him, and Yura was determined to protect him from whatever danger lingered near. With her hunter's instincts, she had tracked him, until at last they came across his horse grazing idly. Nearby, faint murmurs drifted through the air—it was clear the man they pursued was close.
Yura and Hanying entered the old hospital grounds while Jing slipped around in secret. Soon, Jing called them quietly to the back. The place was foul—muddy and damp, as though the rains had soaked it endlessly. But Yura paid no attention to the filth that stained her fine clothes. Her only concern was reaching Yunxi.
At that moment, Yunxi was sneaking along the back of the dilapidated hospital. He needed to get inside, to meet Nim Si—or at least, that was what he told himself.
"What is he doing?" Hanying whispered, peering over the bushes.
"Get down! He'll see you," Jing hissed, irritation lacing his voice.
"Don't yell at me," Hanying shot back.
"You—"
"At this rate he'll hear your squabbles. Can't you keep your childish quarrels to your chambers?" the princess cut in coldly. The siblings exchanged looks of mock disgust, silenced for now.
Meanwhile, Yunxi sighed at the state he had reduced himself to for the sake of this meeting. A part of him only wanted to confront Nim Si, to sneer at him and say, in your face, damn fool. But another part admitted he needed him—for personal reasons he could not set aside. He had written to his father earlier, Nim Si's refusal gnawed at him. His pride wanted to leave, to wait things out, but deep down Yunxi knew: if he did not secure Nim Si's allegiance, the man would inevitably be used against him. Their history ran too deep. Once, they had been so close that they showed each other their darkest flaws without shame.
Yunxi glanced up at the hospital wall. The timbers were worn and smooth with age—climbing would be dangerous. Still, he considered it.
"You don't seriously think you can climb to the top, do you?"
The voice startled him. Yunxi turned sharply to find the smiling girl—Yura—standing there as though waiting for applause. His brow lifted in recognition.
"You…" he muttered.
Hanying stood just behind her, smiling as well, while Jing frowned down at his muddied boots. Yunxi sighed again. He had made it clear before that he neither needed nor wanted their company, so why did this girl persist in following him?
"Brother Yunxi," Yura said sweetly, her tone light as a spring breeze, "do you really think these old beams won't give way? Do you want to break a bone?"
Before Yunxi could answer, Jing spoke from the shadows, his voice sharp. "Watch your tongue. If you think you can speak to her like you did earlier and walk away unscathed, your dreaming little lunatic?"
The name stirred faint familiarity in Yunxi's mind, though he could not place it. "Excuse me… do I know you?" he asked calmly. His head throbbed with too many burdens, pushing old memories aside. Even when he got some glimpse due to the little familiarity Deja vu, he could not recall their faces.
"Brother, I can actually help you," Yura offered with a cute blink. "Do you want to get inside? Why are you here? Did that psycho finally get to you?" Her tone shifted into panic.
Yunxi stared at her, utterly confused. "What… psycho?"
Yura leaned in, her wide eyes urging him closer. He instinctively stepped back, but she tilted forward, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret meant only for him.
"You probably don't know yet. When we followed you here, I thought I was mistaken at first. But after watching more carefully, I'm certain—someone is following you."
Yunxi froze. She nodded earnestly, her face bright with conviction, her large eyes shimmering. Something about the expression made him smile despite himself, and a small chuckle slipped out.
From a distance, one might have thought they were flirting. And perhaps, in a way, they were.