That morning, after returning from the underground arena with gold, victory, and unresolved tension, Luo He barely bothered to remove his outer robe before collapsing onto the bed beside Jin Mulan.
The chamber was still dim. Dawn had only just begun to brighten the paper windows with pale silver light. The city outside remained half asleep, distant and quiet.
Jin Mulan had already drifted into deep sleep from exhaustion. One arm lay across the blankets, hair spilled over the pillow, breathing slow and even. The fierce woman who had stood in an arena of blood and fire only hours earlier now looked almost peaceful.
Luo He glanced at her once. Then smirked faintly. "Terrifying in public," he murmured. "Reasonable in sleep."
He lay beside her and closed his eyes.
For perhaps an hour. Maybe two.
Even in rest, his mind never truly stopped moving. When he woke again, the room was warmer with morning light. Jin Mulan had shifted closer unconsciously, one hand resting lightly against his side.
He carefully moved her hand away, rose without waking her, and dressed for court.
Before leaving, he looked back at her.
There was something unexpectedly soft in his expression. He bent down and gave her a gentle kiss. Even asleep, her lips curved into the faintest smile.
She felt it. Though she would deny that later.
Luo He straightened. "Dangerous," he muttered to himself. "She's becoming likable." Then he left. Court that day was tedious. Ministers argued over tariffs.
Officials blamed one another for shortages. Border petitions were read with grave faces and no solutions.
Three factions insulted each other politely through coded language. Two factions insulted each other badly through polished language. The emperor looked like a man regretting every life choice that had led him to a throne.
Luo He said little. He stood in his minor place among lesser officials, hands folded, face calm. Watching. Learning.
Measuring. Because his real purpose in Yu had never been to enjoy court. He had larger designs.
If the aging emperor were to fall, succession would tear the kingdom apart. Princes would compete. Families would gamble. Armies would move.
Chaos would come.
So Luo He intended to shape the future before it arrived. His preferred path was simple, support a princess with real talent. Bind the royal line through blood.
Have a son through the third princess.
Raise that child to become future heir.
Clean. Efficient. Politically brilliant.
Morally questionable.
Which meant, in Luo He's opinion, highly promising. By midday he slipped away from court. The Third Princess was said to be training privately after her humiliating defeat in the pit the previous night.
Luo He found this charming. Pride injured itself louder than flesh. Her palace compound was guarded well. Entry for a low-ranked court official was impossible through normal means.
So naturally, he used abnormal means.
He activated Silent Step. His aura vanished. Foot-falls disappeared.
Presence dissolved. He moved past guards who stared directly through him. Crossed tiled corridors unseen. Scaled an inner wall and entered the rear training garden like a passing shadow.
The place was elegant. White stone paths. Bamboo screens. A shallow pond glazed with floating petals. Training dummies arranged in rows. Weapon racks lined with polished steel. At the center the princess.
She wore fitted blue practice robes, sleeves tied back, silver-white hair bound high. A thin sword flashed through the air in precise arcs. Every cut carried frustration beneath discipline. Too sharp.
Too hard. She was punishing the dummy for last night's loss.
Luo He watched silently. Then, because he was Luo He, he decided not to remain sensible. He dropped Silent Step just enough for her instincts to feel him.
Not visible. Only sensed. A gaze. A presence.
Someone there. Her sword stopped instantly. She turned. Nothing. He moved three paces right. She followed the disturbance. Fast. "Good." He smiled beneath the cloak of his armour.
Then darted left. She spun again, eyes narrowing. "You can feel me," he thought approvingly. So he teased her once more, circling with impossible speed.
That was enough. She slammed her palm downward. Ice exploded across the courtyard floor in a spreading sheet.
Luo He's footing vanished. He slipped.
Actually slipped. For one offended second, he windmilled gracelessly before catching balance. Too late.
She thrust her hand forward. Columns of ice surged upward around him, locking his legs and torso in place. His camouflage flickered. Then he dropped it fully. He appeared as from thin air.
Frozen mid-mischief. The princess crossed the distance in a blur and placed her sword at his throat. Her eyes were cold and furious. "Who are you?"
Luo He looked down at the blade.
Then up at her. "I was checking you out."
She nearly cut his head off on principle.
The sword lifted. Murder intent clear.
He raised one finger.
"Martial skills," he said quickly. "I meant I was checking your martial skills." The sword paused. Barely. She studied him now with narrowed eyes.
Young. Handsome. Annoyingly composed. Too young to be a master.
Too attractive to be trustworthy. Too skilled to dismiss. This combination offended her instincts.
"You trespassed into a royal compound," she said. "Appolagies prince." Luo He said. "You concealed yourself well." She stated. "Yes." He answered. "You watched me train." She asked if to confirm. "I was." Luo He said. "You admit all of this calmly?" She asked if confused. "What else can I do?" Luo He asked as if he was confused.
"You could have denied but why not?" She asked. "Because lying after being frozen looks weak." He said.
A pause.
Then, despite herself, she almost respected that. Almost. She lowered the sword a fraction. "You claim to be a martial master?" she asked if confused.
"I am." Luo He affirms.
"You look to young to be a master." she said in a quiet voice. "I moisturize." Luo He said seriously. Her jaw tightened.
He was impossible. She thaught.
Yet the techniques he had used were real. Advanced. Rare. Only someone powerful could hide presence so completely. And only someone foolish would then reveal it for amusement.
Which suggested genius or madness.
Possibly both. She cut the ice binding him. He stepped free, brushing frost from his sleeves. "To repair trust," he said, "I'll give you an advice." "I didn't ask for any." Princess Ningia said.
"You will need it." He said. That earned another dangerous look. He walked toward her practice dummy as if he had no care in the world. "Your sword work is refined. Efficient. But when angry, you overcommit on the final inch." He said confidently.
"I do not." She refused to admit her weak news. "You just did twice while glaring." He said. She hated that he noticed.
He continued. "You strike beautifully. You recover honestly. Too honestly." "What does that mean?" She asked calmly now.
"It means everyone sees where your body resets." He stepped behind her.
She stiffened instantly.
He ignored it with suspicious confidence.
"Stand properly." He said. Then he placed his hands lightly at her hips and shifted her stance two inches. Her sword nearly moved on instinct.
He felt the murderous glare and decided to proceed quickly. "Weight here," he said. "Shoulder loose. Spine aligned."
He stepped away before dying. Then took a wooden practice sword.
"One basic technique." He raised it casually. "Slice." The movement looked simple. A relaxed diagonal cut. No wasted motion. No dramatic force.
Just timing, edge, alignment, body transfer.
The dummy separated cleanly in two halves. The upper section slid off with a soft thud. She stared. That strike had used less effort than her own swings.
And achieved more. He handed her the blade.
"Again." She copied once. "Messy."
Twice. "Better." Third time the dummy split. Her eyes widened. The technique reduced resistance instead of fighting it.
Elegant. Efficient. Cruel.
She liked it immediately. Luo He bowed lightly. "A pleasure seeing your form this morning, Princess." His tone sounded respectful. Polite. Ordinary.
She gave a short nod, still focused on the new technique. He turned and walked away. Only after several seconds did the hidden meaning strike her. Seeing your form this morning.
She immediately looked at her self. Her training clothes. Her figure. He had absolutely meant both. Her face flushed with rage. "You shameless basted!"
She whirled and slashed.
The remaining dummy was cut apart instantly by the new Slice technique.
Pieces scattered across the courtyard.
Then she froze. Because it had worked.
Perfectly.
She looked at the blade. Then at the doorway where he had vanished. Then scowled harder. Which somehow made him more irritating.