Linyue, without a flicker of hesitation or guilt, said, "With force."
Song Meiyu nodded very seriously, like this was the most reasonable answer and probably the official textbook-approved method of diplomacy.
He Yuying didn't even lift his head, he was too busy slurping noodles like a man who hadn't eaten in days.
Shen Zhenyu finally spoke, his voice quiet and calm, which somehow made it sound ten times more ominous. "We just did what she did to others."
Shu Mingye froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. That… that didn't clarify anything. At all. He put his chopsticks down slowly. It was official. He wasn't ready for the full story of their underground chaos. Whatever had happened down there, it was probably safer for his sanity if he asked Shanjun later. Preferably with tea. Or wine.
Shoving that thought aside, he turned to Linyue. "Why did you decide to fake the princess's death?" he asked carefully.
Linyue didn't even blink. "Because I can't play the princess forever."
Shu Mingye froze again.
Oh. That answer hit a little too hard. He already knew it, but hearing her say it so plainly… it still stung. Did that mean she was going to leave soon? Was this the beginning of the end?
His throat felt tight. He opened his mouth to ask—something, anything—but before he could get a word out, Linyue tilted her head, eyes thoughtful.
"Oh right," she said lightly, "now that the princess is dead, how can I use this face anymore?"
The room went silent.
Even He Yuying stopped mid-slurp, noodles dangling from his chopsticks. Song Meiyu clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes huge. Shen Zhenyu looked like he wanted to leave his physical body out of sheer secondhand anxiety.
"…Right," He Yuying said at last, blinking very slowly. "We did forget about that part."
Song Meiyu let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest. "We can't have a dead princess walking around buying street snacks! That's ghost behavior! People will scream! Babies will cry! Dumpling vendors will faint!"
He Yuying nodded gravely, as if this was an actual public safety concern.
Shen Zhenyu, the least chaotic of them all, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "We'll need to do something about that again."
Shu Mingye, who had been quietly watching this chaos unfold, raised an eyebrow and allowed himself a small smirk. "Again? What, are you going to wear that cheeky fox mask again?" His tone was teasing. "It was… cute."
Linyue turned her head toward him, her usual calm expression in place. But her eyes narrowed slightly. "Why would I walk around wearing a mask? I'll just use another face."
Her voice was calm, as if changing faces was no different from changing clothes. But Shu Mingye's smirk vanished.
Another face. Another name. Another version of her slipping quietly through his fingers.
Shu Mingye sat across from her, his bowl untouched now, his chopsticks resting uselessly in his hand. He watched her in silence. Not for the first time, a thought coiled tightly in his chest: He didn't want her to go. Not yet.
His throat felt tight, his jaw tense, but he forced the words out. "What do you mean? Another face? Are you…" He hesitated, then dropped his voice even lower, almost a whisper. "…leaving?" That last word hung in the air.
Linyue gave a small nod. "Eventually."
Shu Mingye felt something in his stomach twist painfully. Eventually. Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon enough to make his ribs ache all over again.
Then she added in that same even tone, "I use jade dust powder. And Sister Meiyu wanted to find those herbs first before leaving."
Shu Mingye blinked, then almost laughed. Of course. Jade dust powder. He should have guessed. She was from Xuanyi Pavilion. They probably sprinkled it on their porridge for all he knew. That explained why she could change her face so easily—effortlessly, like breathing.
And then he remembered that scroll of herbs. That ridiculous long scroll, probably longer than the palace corridor. He had already sent his men to search for them. But naturally, such rare ingredients couldn't be gathered overnight.
A slow, devious smile tugged at his lips. A search like that could easily take weeks. Maybe months. Perhaps it might even stretch across several seasons. Too bad.
But even as he sat there plotting the world's most polite and dignified delay tactic, a war raged inside him. His brain, always cold and calculating, told him to let her go. The sooner the better. Let her slip through his fingers before it became unbearable. Before she became something he could not live without. It would be easier that way. For both of them. But his heart, the reckless fool, kept screaming anyway.
Hold on. Don't let her go. Not now. Not ever.
Shu Mingye rubbed his temple hard enough to leave a mark. Stupid heart. Absolutely useless. Why couldn't it just agree with his perfectly logical brain? Now he didn't know what to do with either of them.
Before he could spiral any further, Song Meiyu leaned across the table with a wide grin. "Right! We need to find everything before we leave. I mean, when do we ever get to go on group adventures this far? It's exciting! And we don't even have to play the princess part anymore!"
Shen Zhenyu let out a quiet, resigned sigh, already preparing for the chaos ahead.
He Yuying didn't even look up. He was too busy poking at his dumpling.
Meanwhile, Linyue sat perfectly calm, as though she wasn't accidentally giving Shu Mingye a full emotional breakdown across the table. She tilted her head thoughtfully and said, "Since I don't have to play the fake princess anymore… should I make it uglier or prettier this time?"
Shu Mingye choked on his tea. He coughed once, twice, grabbed his sleeve, and covered his mouth. When he finally managed to breathe again, he looked at her, wide-eyed. If she used jade dust powder, then… this wasn't even her real face?
A sudden, horrifying thought slammed into him.
Wait. If this wasn't her real face…
What if she decided to change it again?
What if she became someone else entirely?
What if she turned into someone he didn't recognize?
What if she walked right past him one day and he wouldn't even know?
His perfectly measured smile twitched. His brain twitched. Possibly even his soul. He remembered her saying something once, something about ruining her makeup. Back then, he had assumed she meant rouge or eyeliner or… whatever noble ladies smeared on their faces to look terrifyingly perfect. But now… she hadn't been talking about rouge, had she? She had meant jade dust powder.
"…Are you using that powder now?" Shu Mingye asked, forcing his voice to sound casual. He failed miserably.
"Of course."
Shu Mingye stared. So the face he had been watching all this time—every blank look, every small frown, every rare smile wasn't even hers? And yet, he still found her lovely.
This was bad. This was very, very bad. He was falling for a woman he hadn't even truly seen. A woman with a fake face. A woman who had absolutely no intention of staying.
Shu Mingye was still trying to sort through the emotional backflips in his head when Song Meiyu leaned in again with a grin.
"Why bother using that? Isn't it annoying to put it on all the time? So much effort, right?" Her voice was just a little too cheerful. Suspiciously cheerful.
Shen Zhenyu gave her a sharp, disapproving look as if to say, stop causing troubles.
He Yuying, completely unfazed, spoke around a mouthful of noodles. "Then she'll confuse the demons."
Shu Mingye blinked.
…Confuse the demons? What did that even mean?
His gaze flicked to Linyue again, who looked completely unbothered by all of this. Calm, straight-faced, quietly sipping her tea like none of this involved her. While his mind was still stuck on the idea of faces. If she could make herself prettier, why would she even consider making herself uglier? What kind of twisted, infuriating logic was that?
Then again, he didn't even know what her real face looked like. And for some reason, that bothered him. He wanted to see it. The real her. Ugly or not, it didn't matter. Except… his eyes lingered on her face. This current one, the "not-so-pretty" face she had chosen to wear, was already devastatingly cute. Unreasonably, painfully cute. And that slightly grumpy look she always had? The way her lashes lowered whenever she was unimpressed? The faint narrowing of her eyes every time someone said something idiotic (which happened a lot)?
Lovely. Dangerous. If she made herself prettier…
His chest felt uncomfortably tight. His thoughts turned to soup. Hot. Chaotic. Full of random vegetables and absolutely inedible.
He cleared his throat, sat up straighter, and blurted with all the fake confidence he could scrape together. "Make it uglier."