Seeing his silence, Linyue tilted her head and asked, "Did you lose your way again?"
Of all the possible things she could've said: Are you okay? You look like death. Why are you staring at me like I owe you money? She chose that.
He stared at her. His chest felt strangely tight, his thoughts a tangled mess.
Yes, he thought grimly. Completely lost. Not on the road. He had marched here with full purpose. Like a man possessed. Every step fueled by her words echoing in his mind, "We're going back to the East".
He let out a quiet sigh. "Can't you think of another reason why I came here?"
Linyue considered it for a moment. Then, because her brain worked in mysterious and occasionally infuriating ways, she said, "For spicy dumpling noodles?"
From behind her, Song Meiyu coughed loudly, very clearly trying not to burst into laughter.
He Yuying, perfectly serious, added, "She has a point. He must be here for that too."
That was it. Shen Zhenyu, who had been trying very hard to maintain the air of a serious adult, finally lost it and laughed quietly into his sleeve.
Shu Mingye shot them all a sharp glare.
Where had this ridiculous spicy dumpling noodle nonsense even come from? And where, exactly, was this conversation going? His head might actually explode trying to understand the person standing in front of him.
Song Meiyu, sensing the incoming storm, tiptoed closer to Linyue and whispered, "Sister Linyue, maybe there's… some misunderstanding."
"What kind of misunderstanding?" she whispered back, perfectly serious.
Meanwhile, Shu Mingye stood there, hand still wrapped around hers, completely forgotten like a very tall, very dangerous decorative statue. They were whispering. While he was right there. Was he a ghost now? Was he invisible?
His jaw tightened. He gave her hand a light tug, firm enough to remind her he existed but not enough to snap her delicate wrist. "Talk. To. Me."
Linyue finally tilted her chin up to look at him. His eyes were locked on hers, dark and unrelenting, as if the world could burn and he still would not look away. Something flickered there, hot and sharp. Was it anger? Or… wait. Wasn't this just his default face?
Linyue frowned slightly, confused. She wasn't sure. So she asked, very seriously, "Are you angry? Sleepy? Hungry?"
Behind them, Song Meiyu slapped both hands over her mouth, her whole body shaking from the effort of not screaming. He Yuying sighed and shook his head like he had seen this tragic play a hundred times. Shen Zhenyu turned his back and pretended to examine the clouds.
Shu Mingye stared at her. He couldn't decide whether to kiss her or dig a six-foot hole and bury himself alive. Wait. Kiss? Absolutely not. What was he even thinking? He was losing control of his own mind. She had officially turned his brain into soup. Hot, confused, dumpling-flavored soup.
Song Meiyu tiptoed closer again and whispered urgently, "Try explaining from the beginning, Sister Linyue. Trust me. I'm an emotional expert."
Linyue considered this with a thoughtful nod. "From the beginning…" she murmured, thinking hard.
The group watched in collective suspense as she turned back to Shu Mingye with her usual calm, slightly-too-honest face and said, "We're leaving for spicy dumpling noodles. We sent off Prince Lu but didn't say goodbye. I didn't think it was necessary." Her head tilted slightly, her voice still quiet and serious. "Since you didn't lose your way, aren't you coming for spicy dumpling noodles too?"
Shu Mingye blinked once. Then again.
Silence fell over the group.
Song Meiyu's hands shot back to her mouth, eyes wide with the effort of not screaming. He Yuying turned away, shoulders shaking violently. Shen Zhenyu had given up entirely and was now pretending to study a large, puffy cloud that floated lazily overhead.
Shu Mingye closed his eyes briefly, trying to make sense of his own thoughts. His brain was doing mental backflips at the speed of light.
So, when she said "leaving"… she didn't mean leaving Shulin? She meant leaving for… spicy dumpling noodles? And when she said she didn't say goodbye, of course it wasn't to him—it was to that noisy, annoying prince. Naturally, who would say goodbye to him? So… had he misunderstood everything? Again?
His face didn't change, but there was a faint flicker in his eyes. He stared down at Linyue, eyes narrowing. His voice was low and careful. "So," Shu Mingye said slowly. "You're not leaving?"
Linyue gave him a very serious look. "Of course we're leaving. For spicy dumpling noodles."
For a long second, Shu Mingye just stood there, silent. Then he laughed. It was short and low, but real. It startled everyone. Including himself. His ribs immediately protested. His side throbbed painfully. He might've just reopened a wound. Worth it.
So she wasn't leaving Shulin. She had just escorted that infuriating prince out… and then was heading off to eat spicy dumpling noodles. That was it. That was all. He had worried himself half to death over… dumplings. This woman was truly his greatest challenge. His worst enemy. His favorite disaster.
Still smiling faintly, he said, "Alright. I'll ask the palace kitchen to make it for you."
Linyue stared at him, her brows knitting together. Why was he suddenly laughing like a madman? And now palace kitchen? Was he delirious from blood loss? She opened her mouth to say a calm, logical "no need" when—
"GREAT! I want extra dumplings!" Song Meiyu yelled from behind, nearly vibrating with excitement.
He Yuying, already halfway through unwrapping his third snack, added, "I want extra dumplings. Extra noodles. And an extra bowl for my soul."
Shen Zhenyu let out a long sigh. He cast one last longing glance at his quiet, fluffy cloud. His break from this madness was officially over.
Meanwhile, Shu Mingye still didn't let go. His hand—cold but steady—shifted slightly, fingers slowly intertwining with hers. One by one. Careful and deliberate. Like he was trying to memorize the shape of her hand in his. And Linyue didn't pull away. She just let him hold on.
In that small, silent moment, Shu Mingye felt something tight in his chest loosen. Relief washed over him, quiet but profound. And then came something else.
Warmth. A flicker of joy so sharp and strange it almost startled him.
Was happiness really this simple? Just holding her hand, standing in the middle of the road, listening to her say confusing things about dumplings?
He wasn't sure when the world had shifted like this. When her presence started softening the sharp, cold edges inside him. But now, with her so close, everything felt… different. Lighter. Like even a man like him—broken, ruthless, unworthy—could want things again. Small, ridiculous, gentle things. He didn't want this moment to end. So he did the most dangerous thing a man in his position could do. He took a step forward. Just one. Still holding her hand, ready to walk beside her.
But then—
"Why don't you go back first?" Linyue said. "With the horse. You look really pale."
Ah. That was the nicest way anyone had ever told him he looked like death. He stared at her. Was she… was she being considerate? Or just blunt? It was impossible to tell with her. She had that same calm, almost innocent expression she wore whenever she casually demolished someone's dignity.
He ignored the insult. He'd process it later, when he wasn't actively trying to preserve his pride in front of an audience. For now, he simply said, "Let's walk together."
Or… did she care? Was she really being considerate? Should he be hopeful again?
No. No more thinking. Thinking got him in trouble. Best not to assume anything with this strange woman or he'd end up crying into a bowl of dumplings at midnight.
From behind, Song Meiyu chirped brightly, "Sister Linyue, why don't you go back with him first? You'll get sunburn if you keep walking under this bright sun!"
Linyue turned her head slightly, expression blank. "Sister Meiyu, didn't you say I'm emotionally stunted? Maybe I need more sunlight to grow."
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.
Then He Yuying muttered, "She's not wrong."
Shen Zhenyu made a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a desperate prayer for patience.
Meanwhile, Shu Mingye stood rooted on the spot, completely bewildered. Emotionally stunted? Where had that come from? What did it have to do with sunlight? Was this… was this some new type of herbal diagnosis? Was emotional growth photosynthesis now?
No. No. He had to stop thinking about it. Thinking around Linyue was dangerous. It wasn't good for his brain health. Or his pride.