Ficool

Chapter 8 - Q Chapter 8: The Celestial Tether and The Shared Heartbeat

Chapter 8: The Celestial Tether and The Shared Heartbeat

The next morning, Lin Xue woke up to an entirely new, incredibly strange form of elemental décor: frost in her hair.

Not the metaphorical, cold-shoulder kind of frost.

Actual, tiny crystals glittered along her strands like misplaced silver threads, making her head feel cool but not painfully cold.

"Oh, that's just fantastic," she groaned, staring at her wild reflection in the polished bronze mirror.

"I've gone from being a temporary resident to a full-time seasonal palace decoration."

When she tentatively moved her hand, faint sparks of silver light danced across her fingertips.

The same faint, unmistakable glow pulsed at her wrist—the bond mark from the shattered jade tablet last night.

She flexed her fingers.

The glow pulsed again, perfectly in sync with a rhythm she didn't immediately recognize—until a wave of energy swept through her, and she realized the pulsing wasn't hers.

"…Is that his actual heartbeat?" she whispered to her reflection.

The very moment the thought crossed her mind, the energy shivered, responding to her awareness, as if confirming the intrusive detail.

Lin Xue immediately froze.

"Nope.

No.

Absolutely not.

This is a massive, illegal breach of privacy."

She snatched up her silk robes and stormed toward the morning training courtyard.

.

.

.

.

.

Jinhai was already there, sword in hand, practicing his demanding morning forms with the familiar, intense focus.

Snow dusted the ground around him, looking untouched by the weak warmth of the sun.

He stopped the moment she approached. His eyes flicked briefly to the indignant glow on her wrist, then, just as quickly, to the identical mark pulsing on his own.

"It seems, Lady Lin," he said calmly, sheathing his sword, "the bond persists through the night."

"'Persists'? It's syncing our literal heartbeats!" she hissed, throwing her arms wide in exasperation.

"That's not a bond—that's advanced, illegal surveillance!"

A faint, almost undetectable smile touched his lips.

"I confess, it is not entirely unpleasant."

"Excuse me, Your Highness?"

"You are alive and well," he said simply, his gaze steady.

"That is, surprisingly, reassuring."

She threw her hands up in defeat.

"You are truly impossible to argue with."

"And you are remarkably loud before breakfast, Lady Lin."

"Maybe because I didn't sleep a wink last night!"

A pause stretched between them.

Then, very quietly, Jinhai admitted, "Neither did I."

Her anger immediately faltered.

There was something in his tone—tired, thoughtful, and absolutely not teasing this time—that calmed her electric energy instantly.

.

.

.

.

.

Later that morning, the Chief Palace Physician was summoned to examine the bond.

The old man prodded the marks, muttered complicated incantations, and finally, nervously declared, "It is divine in nature, Your Highness.

Neither curse nor definitive blessing—more like… a celestial tether."

Jinhai folded his arms, his expression rigid. "Meaning, Physician?"

"Your qi flows through the same primary current now.

If one of you overextends your power, the other will feel the resulting spike.

If one of you is gravely injured…"

The old man hesitated, looking profoundly uncomfortable.

Lin Xue blinked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"Oh, please don't stop there, Doctor! I absolutely love a good cliffhanger!"

He cleared his throat nervously.

"…The other may suffer the same severe injury, or worse."

She stared, utterly horrified.

"So, if I accidentally trip on the palace stairs again, for example—"

"You will both fall down the stairs," the physician finished grimly.

"And likely share the ensuing broken bones."

Jinhai pinched the bridge of his nose, the closest he ever came to total surrender. "Heaven help me now."

"Hey!" Lin Xue said, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"Don't look at me like this is my fault! You're the one who touched the strange, glowing, prophecy-laden tablet!"

"You handed the unstable artifact to me!" he shot back.

"Consent by curiosity is not legal consent!"

"Lin Xue."

"What?"

He let out a deep, defeated sigh.

"Just… stop talking for five seconds."

.

.

.

.

.

For the next few days, "not talking" proved to be entirely impossible.

Whenever Lin Xue used too much lightning energy in her attempts to practice, Jinhai would feel a sharp spike of pain behind his eyes.

When he meditated too intensely, channeling his frost qi, her hands would immediately go numb from the bone-deep cold.

They started to adjust—unwillingly and resentfully at first, then almost entirely instinctively.

If she let out a spontaneous laugh at a palace joke, he would glance up from his scroll before realizing he was subtly smiling too.

If he frowned and tensed up during a tedious council meeting, she would feel the immediate tension knotting uncomfortably in her own chest.

They tried desperately to avoid discussing the intimate connection.

Until one evening, when Lin Xue's lightning power flared uncontrollably during her solo meditation.

The wild, unstable sparks spiraled violently, blue and white, crackling around her like a trapped, unpredictable storm.

Jinhai appeared instantly in her doorway, drawn by the painful surge in the shared tether.

Without a single thought, he strode forward—his strong hand closing firmly over hers.

The very moment their palms touched, the wild lightning instantly stilled.

The bond shimmered fiercely, threads of cool ice and volatile thunder weaving together into a single, cohesive, calming pulse of silver light.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

"How did you—?"

"Because you weren't breathing," he said softly, his intense gaze fixed on her face. "And I could distinctly feel it, Lin Xue."

The air between them buzzed intensely, alive with a strange, powerful intimacy neither of them could comfortably name.

Then the moment broke—she pulled her hand back quickly, flustered and embarrassed.

"Right.

Great.

Connection verified.

Emotional Wi-Fi stable," she muttered, trying to lighten the mood.

He blinked slowly.

"Wi… what is that?"

"Nothing."

She coughed.

"Forget I said anything."

.

.

.

.

.

The next day, the court rumors started again, faster than ever before.

"The Prince and the foreign lady now share matching, glowing marks!"

"They train together now. Secretly, after dark!"

"I heard they are literally bound by heaven's decree now, to bear children for the realm!"

Ministers whispered fearfully; jealous rivals schemed furiously.

But worse than the loud, persistent gossip was what arrived three nights later—a single, sealed letter, slipped stealthily beneath Lin Xue's door.

To the Lady of Thunder,

A word of sincere advice from those who see clearly: no mortal, foreign soul can safely hold the heart of the Crown Prince without terrible consequence.

Heaven gives such explosive power to test the pure, not to grant forbidden love.

There was no signature.

Just a faint, lingering trace of rich incense—the very same costly scent that the beautiful, but always subtly threatening, Consort Mei was known to wear.

Lin Xue read the anonymous letter twice, then, without a word, burned it completely in the oil lamp, watching the paper crumble silently into ashes.

.

.

.

.

.

At dawn, she found Jinhai exactly where she expected him: deep in the palace library, surrounded by scrolls.

"Someone's trying to divide us," she said, her voice low.

"And they are not being subtle about it."

He didn't even look up from his scroll.

"They always will, Lady Lin."

She hesitated, chewing on her lip.

"And what if they succeed, Your Highness?"

His gaze finally lifted from the scroll, steady, intense, and completely unreadable.

"They won't."

"Confident, are we, Prince Jinhai?"

"No," he said quietly, shutting the scroll firmly.

"Determined."

The divine bond between their wrists pulsed again—a faint, shared rhythm of strong resolve.

She smiled faintly, a genuine warmth spreading through her chest.

"Well then, partner.

Let's prove all of heaven, and everyone in this gossipy palace, wrong."

That night, as silent lightning flickered over the vast, darkened city and frost beautifully traced the intricate palace rooftops, the sealed mark on both their wrists glowed once more—brighter and more defined than before, like a solemn promise neither of them had explicitly chosen but both had now decisively begun to accept.

More Chapters