Yes. Perfect. That was the safe choice. Totally safe. Nobody needed to know how fast his heart was pounding, or how his palms were sweating.
Song Meiyu gasped loudly. "WHAT?! Why?!"
Linyue only shrugged. "I told you. It's his preference."
He Yuying immediately choked on his noodles, coughing so hard his eyes watered.
Shen Zhenyu turned his head slowly toward Shu Mingye, eyebrows slightly raised. That couldn't be right. Who in their right mind preferred ugly faces? Was this some kind of strange royal habit? Or…
Song Meiyu narrowed her eyes and pointed her chopsticks at Shu Mingye. "That can't be. Do you really not like beautiful faces?"
Shu Mingye leaned back in his chair, slow and lazy. "It's troublesome."
Song Meiyu slapped a hand to her forehead, groaning dramatically. "I can't believe this. Sister Linyue, don't listen to him! He's clearly confused. Or blind. Or BOTH!"
Shu Mingye didn't bother explaining. If Linyue got any prettier than she already was? He'd be doomed. Absolutely, catastrophically doomed. He could already feel the edges of his sanity fraying every time she so much as blinked. And her attracting more attention? Bad idea. She'd shine like a jewel in a thief's den. Add beauty on top of mystery? Disaster. Entire states might start fighting over her. So yes. Uglier. Definitely safer. Simpler. He could breathe that way.
Linyue nodded in agreement. "Right. Ugly face, less trouble. Works perfectly."
Shu Mingye turned to glance at her. She was sipping her tea, eyes lowered. A small strand of hair had come loose near her temple, softening her sharp profile. She looked like a quiet painting—calm, muted… and still the most distracting person in the room.
Shu Mingye's voice softened without meaning to. "I didn't say ugly. I said make it uglier. There's a difference."
Song Meiyu gawked at him, mouth hanging open. "You'll regret it one day, I swear!"
Shu Mingye ignored her completely. He already was regretting things, just not the ones she thought. Still, something itched at him. So he looked straight at Linyue and asked before his brain could stop him. "How old are you? Are you the same age as that princess?"
Linyue didn't even look up. "Twenty."
Twenty.
Shu Mingye nodded absently. Perfect age—
Wait. WAIT. What was he thinking? No. No. Absolutely not. Delete thought. Burn it.
Without another word, he stood up abruptly, turned on his heel, and walked out of her chamber. The door shut softly behind him, far too polite for the storm in his head. And as usual, no one stopped him.
The room was quiet for a long moment.
Song Meiyu was the first to speak. "That was strange."
Linyue nodded, thoughtful. "Yes. Strange."
Song Meiyu threw her hands in the air. "Right?! Why would he prefer an ugly face? Who says that with a straight face? Is he cursed?"
Linyue tilted her head slightly. "I meant the spicy dumpling noodles."
Everyone stared at her.
She pointed at the bowl. "It's not even spicy. I asked for extra spicy."
He Yuying, still chewing, raised his bowl slightly. "Well… as long as it's delicious. And free."
Song Meiyu slapped her forehead. "How are you all so calm about this? The King of Shulin just said he prefers ugly faces! Doesn't anyone think that's… weird?"
Shen Zhenyu sighed, clearly deciding this was the moment to steer them away from another round of bizarre conversation. "It's almost Weeping Moon again."
Linyue gave a quiet nod, already shifting gears.
Song Meiyu gasped and leaned forward. "Yes, the Weeping Moon! The demon attacks here are worse than in the East, right? Are we going to see one? Are they really as big as houses? Do they eat people whole?"
He Yuying muttered darkly, "Should we just hide in our chambers and pretend to be sick?"
Shen Zhenyu sighed again, the sound heavy with resignation. "It is more dangerous here. But now that we're already in Shulin… we can't exactly turn a blind eye."
Song Meiyu nodded. "Yes! After all, he did treat us well. And don't forget—he's still injured! We can't just eat his dumplings and run away."
He Yuying raised a dumpling halfway to his lips, mumbling, "Should we help?"
"I don't mind killing demons," Linyue replied, setting down her teacup with a quiet clink.
Across from her, Shen Zhenyu cleared his throat. "Let's cultivate and train first. Maybe we can borrow the palace training ground. It'll help us prepare."
Song Meiyu instantly brightened, bouncing slightly in her seat. "Yes! I think I'm finally going to break through to the fourth level after surviving that awful haunted cave!"
He Yuying, still poking his dumpling, added lazily, "I should reach peak stage soon… hopefully before the next demon throws a mountain at us."
Linyue gave a small nod. "Alright. Good luck."
Slowly, all three of them turned in unison to stare at her.
Song Meiyu blinked at her. "Sister Linyue, you've never trained. Not once. Even back in Xuanyi Pavilion, I never saw you lift a finger unless there was pie to steal or tea to sip." She crossed her arms. "Unless... you count napping as cultivation?"
Linyue sipped her tea again. "I don't feel like moving."
Song Meiyu gasped. "That's not fair! I want to nap and get stronger too!"
He Yuying finally looked up from his tortured dumpling and added dryly, "Clearly, we've been doing it wrong all along. The secret to power is tea, naps, and stolen pastries."
Shen Zhenyu, sitting quietly at the side, almost choked on his water trying not to laugh.
Linyue offered her a rare, faint smile. "Then cultivate harder. Be stronger… so you can nap all you want."
Song Meiyu's eyes sparkled. "You're a genius, Sister Linyue. A lazy, powerful genius. It's a good thing you're on our side."
Linyue nodded, unbothered. "For now."
He Yuying didn't even bother looking up from his bowl as he stabbed another dumpling with his chopsticks. "Should we be worried?"
Linyue tilted her head, considering it. "…Maybe."
Shen Zhenyu let out a long, quiet sigh.
Song Meiyu leaned closer to He Yuying, her voice trembling with dramatic horror. "We're doomed if she ever switches sides."
He Yuying popped another dumpling into his mouth and spoke with his mouth half-full. "Then we pretend to be trees and hope she ignores us."
Linyue couldn't help it—her lips curved into a small, rare smile before she could stop herself.
They were utterly ridiculous. And somehow… precious. She hadn't realized it before, not fully. But sitting here, watching He Yuying chew like a lazy panda, Song Meiyu flailing dramatically with a dumpling in hand, and Shen Zhenyu drinking his tea with silent patience—it hit her.
These three. Somewhere between all the chaos and arguments, they had become family.
The thought startled her. A sharp ache tugged at her chest, strange and unfamiliar, like warmth she didn't know how to hold. It spread slowly, annoyingly, until her whole chest felt too tight. She frowned down at her cup. No. That wasn't it. It was the tea. Obviously the tea. It was far too hot, that was all.
Yes. Definitely the tea.
She set the cup down and spoke softly. "Sister Meiyu. You don't have to fight on Weeping Moon."
Song Meiyu looked up, dumpling halfway to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. "Why?"
"You can stay inside the walls. Tend to the wounded."
There was a pause.
"…Sister Linyue," Song Meiyu said slowly, her voice trembling as though she were about to burst into tears. "Do you think… I am too weak?"
Linyue shook her head at once. "No. You're strong. But being strong doesn't mean you have to fight."
Song Meiyu blinked. Then she slammed the dumpling onto her bowl so hard it bounced. "So… you think I am strong… but useless!"
Shen Zhenyu leaned forward, his tone steady and reassuring. "You're the only one among us who can actually treat injuries without making them worse. That's more important than swinging a sword."
He Yuying raised his hand lazily. "I can carry the wounded inside. You patch them up. Teamwork."
Linyue added in her usual calm voice, "Saving lives is more important. There are far more soldiers than physicians."
Song Meiyu's eyes grew shiny, her lower lip trembling.
"Oh no," He Yuying muttered. "Is she going to cry again?"
"Shut up," Song Meiyu sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. "I am having a moment."
Linyue watched her fondly, her expression softer than usual. "It's best to do what we can do best."
Song Meiyu straightened in her seat, fire returning to her eyes. "Fine! I'll be the most heroic, graceful, and absolutely stunning battlefield medic the palace has ever seen!"
Shen Zhenyu lifted his teacup, unimpressed. "That doesn't mean you can skip cultivating and training."
Song Meiyu gasped, looking deeply offended. "I was having a moment and it just got destroyed like that."
He Yuying let out a long-suffering groan, leaning back in his chair. "You've had like five moments today."
Linyue could not stop the small smile tugging at her lips. This time, she didn't bother hiding it. She let it linger as she watched them bicker like overgrown children, and yet… her chest felt lighter watching them.
Yes. There was hope indeed.