The rest of the ride back to the palace was… surprisingly peaceful. No sudden thunder rumbling overhead. No dramatic rainfall soaking them halfway through. Only the steady sound of hooves striking the road, the distant chatter of birds in the trees, and Shu Mingye—who, for reasons only the heavens might know—kept quietly rubbing his cheek against her shoulder. He was sniffing like a hound, and occasionally letting out little chuckles to himself.
Linyue glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Was he laughing? Again? Was his fever back? Or had the emotional instability simply evolved into its next stage?
For one brief moment, she considered pushing him off the horse. Just a light shove. He was injured anyway, so he wouldn't bounce very far. It was almost tempting. But in the end, she didn't. Strangely enough, she didn't really mind it. Not much. Maybe she was getting used to this version of Shu Mingye—the clingy, injured, emotionally unstable one. It wasn't that bad. A little warm. A little heavy. But not unbearable. So she decided to just let it be.
Even after they reached the palace and dismounted, Shu Mingye didn't let go of her hand. He still held it firmly.
Linyue tilted her head, giving their joined hands a small, experimental shake. "Don't you find it uncomfortable?" she asked in her usual flat tone.
Her hand was, after all, ice cold. Always had been. Most people flinched when they accidentally brushed against her. Some yelped. A few had even dropped their cups, chopsticks, or entire trays when they brushed against her. She was used to it.
Shu Mingye glanced down at their hands, then back up at her. His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles, lingering there just long enough to make her wonder if it was intentional. "No," he said without hesitation. "I like it."
The words slipped out too fast. Even he was caught off guard. His own brain didn't even have time to vote on it. His eyes widened slightly. His mouth had officially gone rogue. This was the betrayal of the century. Shu Mingye darted a glance at Linyue's face. Surely she would be—
Horrified? Embarrassed? Mildly disgusted?
No. She only looked at him with that same calm, unreadable expression that had driven him insane since the day they met. Maybe… maybe she was a little confused? Or maybe not. It was impossible to tell with her.
Then, after a long pause that nearly killed him, she gave a small nod. "I see," she said simply.
Shu Mingye nearly passed out from the suspense.
That was it? I see? Was it good? Bad? Neutral? Emotionally stunted again? Should he ask for clarification?
Before he could spiral deeper into his overthinking, Linyue spoke again, very matter-of-factly. "…Do you like it because you have a fever?"
Shu Mingye froze. And then, he broke. For the third time that day, laughter burst out of him. Not the sharp, polite laugh of a king. Not even the scary, deep laugh that made grown generals sweat. This was helpless. The kind of laugh that shook his shoulders and made his head tip back slightly.
The sound startled Linyue. She watched him silently.
Shu Mingye tried, and failed, to get a grip. It took him several seconds to pull in enough air to speak. When he finally managed it, he cleared his throat, though the corner of his mouth refused to stop curving upward. His voice was lower, softer, carrying something dangerously close to sincerity.
"What about you?" he asked quietly. "Do you… mind it?"
Not "Do you like it?" He barely stopped himself from saying that out loud. Let's not embarrass ourselves again today, he thought. One emotional disaster per morning was more than enough. He had to draw the line somewhere.
But then she answered. And her answer nearly knocked the breath out of him.
"No. I like it too," Linyue said simply, her eyes lowering to their joined hands. "It's warm."
Shu Mingye's mind went blank.
Warm. That was her reason. She liked the warmth. Which, yes, it made sense. She was cold all the time. Of course she liked warmth. Logically, that checked out. And yet, Shu Mingye's brain promptly betrayed him and did a full emotional backflip.
She said she likes it.
She likes it.
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
Yes. Yes. He knew she meant the temperature. The literal, physical warmth of a living human being pressed against her icy little chaos-machine self. He wasn't delusional. Obviously. But also…
What if… just what if… it wasn't just about that?
While Shu Mingye was experiencing a full emotional storm inside—heart pounding, brain melting, pride barely holding on with duct tape—Linyue, of course, stayed perfectly calm.
"Since you like it," she added simply, "then I don't have to feel guilty for stealing your warmth."
Right. That made sense. Logical. Fair. So very Linyue. She didn't want to accidentally freeze someone into an ice statue. Without consent. That was… sweet? Concerning? Romantic in a quiet, terrifying way?
Shu Mingye had no idea what to think anymore. All he knew was that her hand was still in his and she liked the warmth. So he did the only thing a man in his emotional condition could do. He faked composure.
"Well, you can steal it anytime," he said, his voice calm and smooth, as if his heart wasn't currently practicing martial arts in his chest.
And for the first time all day, it was Linyue's turn to blink. "…Even if I turn you into an ice statue?" she asked, dead serious.
Shu Mingye's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Then I'll be the warmest ice statue in the palace."
Linyue was… surprised. Not visibly, of course. Her face stayed calm. But inside, there was the tiniest twitch in her chest—something unfamiliar, something hard to name. She frowned slightly. Odd. Was this what Song Meiyu had called "emotional growth"?
Possibly. Maybe there was hope for her after all.
She stole a glance at Shu Mingye. "You really don't mind becoming an ice statue?"
He shrugged. "As long as you're the reason."
Linyue stared at him.
Shu Mingye grinned—slow, infuriating, and far too confident for a man who had been on death's door a few hours ago.
She quickly looked away, deciding not to think too much about it. Her heart felt… weird again. Like it wasn't entirely following her orders anymore. Troubling. She'd have to investigate later. Before she could say anything else, footsteps echoed down the palace corridor ahead of them—fast, frantic, and growing louder. Then a blur of brown robes came sprinting straight at them.
"LORD!" Boyi skidded to a stop so hard he nearly toppled over. "Where have you gone? You need to rest! The physicians will kill me if they find out you're—"
"—alive and walking?" Shu Mingye finished lazily, clearly amused.
Before Boyi could splutter a response, another figure appeared—this one calm and composed. It was Shanjun. He stopped a polite distance away, bowed, and said smoothly, "Princess."
Linyue tilted her head, eyes calm but thoughts turning. He's greeting me first now?
They clearly knew she wasn't Princess Fu Yuxin. After all, hadn't they personally helped send the second princess's urn to the imperial palace? Did she not make her point clear?
Even Shu Mingye narrowed his eyes. That was strange. Shanjun usually ignored everyone unless they were bleeding or on fire. But now he was bowing first?
Did something happen between them while I was unconscious? Shu Mingye thought, his jaw tightening. He remembered. Shanjun had gone to her chamber. That memory alone made something unpleasant curl in his chest. His dark eyes slid to Shanjun, sharp and heavy, like he was attempting to drill a hole straight through him.
Shanjun straightened stiffly, clearly feeling the heat of that glare. With a dry cough, he added quickly, "...Lord."
Before that atmosphere could become dangerous, Linyue stepped in. "He's right. You need to rest."
Shu Mingye looked at her for a long moment. For just a second, he almost forgot he was supposed to be mad. She was looking at him with something close to concern. Not cold indifference. Not her usual mild curiosity. This was actual, real concern.
It was healing. It was dangerous. It was addicting.
He nodded. "Fine. Only if you come with me."