Shu Mingye wasn't sure when it happened, but Linyue had become the number one threat to his peace of mind. She didn't just make him lose his train of thought—she derailed it completely, set it on fire, and kicked it off a cliff. And then calmly watched it fall, probably sipping tea.
He swallowed hard, trying to will his heartbeat into something respectable.
Linyue looked down at their hands and didn't pull away. Which of course made everything worse. One glance from those calm eyes and his brain short-circuited. His ears were burning. His thoughts had packed their bags and fled the palace entirely. And she didn't even seem to realize the effect she had on him.
Utterly unfair.
A thought crept in, reckless and loud, completely Shu-Mingye-unapproved: How do I make her look at me differently? Not just as an ally. Not just someone to ask for battlefield training permission. But something more. How to make this emotionally stunted woman actually care? How to make her like him?And maybe… maybe even…
He blinked hard. No. Dangerous territory. He should stop here.
But the thought was already there, clinging to his brain, like a stubborn little demon whispering sweet nonsense into his ear. What if she loves me?
His heart thudded in his chest, loud enough he was sure she could hear it. He stared at her ridiculously uneven eyebrows, at the faint powdered scar across her lip, at the "ugly" face she had carefully crafted just for him and thought, I'm going insane. And he didn't even mind.
Linyue was calmly observing Shu Mingye's expression. After asking her to accompany him to the training ground, Shu Mingye had just frozen. Not a single step. Not a single word. His expression changed every few seconds like he was arguing with himself in five different languages.
She tilted her head slightly. His face was funny. Serious, then flustered. Intense, then blank. Now his ears were red. Her gaze drifted down to their hands. He was still holding hers. Warm. Steady. Completely unaware of how tightly he had clung to it.
After a long, strange silence, Linyue finally spoke. "You should rest. Why would you go to the training ground?"
Shu Mingye jolted. His brain snapped back into place. "To… to make sure you don't accidentally burn or blow up the training ground," he said quickly.
Linyue frowned. "We won't."
Ah. So that was what he had been worrying about. The grand, horrifying possibility of the palace training ground turning into a giant lump of charcoal. Reasonable, she supposed. But also mildly insulting.
Shu Mingye narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't sound convincing."
Without a word, Linyue reached down, untied the small pouch hanging from her belt, and held it out to him.
His gaze dropped to her hand.
A pouch? Was she giving it to him?
His heart skipped. His brain stopped working. Was this… a gift? Had she actually prepared something just for him?
Unbelievable. And extremely suspicious. But also… incredibly nice. What could be inside? A rare herb? An embroidered handkerchief? Something romantic? No… knowing her, it could also be something deeply unromantic, like a frog or a rock she thought was "practical." Or worse, something she wanted him to hold onto so she could avoid carrying it. Still, he reached for it slowly.
Then her calm voice shattered his dreamy thoughts. "Healing elixir and ointment," she said. "Sister Meiyu told me to give it to you." Linyue wisely did not add the last part: as a bribe.
Oh. So it wasn't from her. Of course it wasn't from her. His thoughts, once warm and glowing, dropped straight off a cliff. His mouth tightened in a faint frown. He held the pouch and muttered, "Of course, why would it be from you."
Before his mind could spiral any further into pathetic territory, he took a breath and said, "Wait here."
He turned and walked back into his chamber quickly, clutching the pouch like it was something precious anyway. Because—well, it was still from her hands. And that was enough to make his traitorous heart thump stupidly.
Linyue watched as Shu Mingye turned his back and disappeared into his chamber. His expression just now was... truly something. Still handsome, of course—annoyingly so—but funny. One moment he looked like someone had handed him his favorite pastries. The next, he was frowning as if he had just bitten into a sour plum. Was the Demon King always like this?
She remembered their first meeting vividly. Back then, his face could freeze lakes. Cold, unreadable, and sharp. A single glare from him could send people running, or crying. Or running while crying.
Linyue's lips curved. "This Demon King isn't bad either," she murmured to herself.
She pulled out her spirit transmission jade and spoke briefly. "Heading to the training ground. Don't set anything on fire before I arrive."
Shu Mingye came out of his chamber far quicker than Linyue had expected. He had changed. Now he wore his usual dark robes, every layer sitting in perfect order, hair tied back neatly, his cold expression locked firmly in place. A proper Demon King once more. That was good. A relief, even. Because when he had opened the door earlier, it had been… different. He had been in his inner garment, robe half-draped over his shoulder, looking like he had just lost a brutal battle with sleep.
Linyue, of course, said nothing about it. She most certainly didn't notice the very defined lines of his chest. Or the way his hair had been slightly messy in a strangely endearing way. And she definitely didn't notice the way his robe had shifted when he moved, exposing more than it should have.
Nope. She absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent did not notice any of that.
Unfortunately, Shu Mingye caught her glancing his way for a moment too long. His lips curved in the faintest, most irritating smirk.
"What?" she asked flatly.
"Nothing," he said. "Just wondering if you were admiring the architecture… or the owner of it."
Her expression did not change. "I was thinking about how fast I can throw you back into your chamber."
The smirk faded. "Ah. Architecture it is."
She looked away, her voice cool and steady. "Have you had the healing elixir?"
"Not yet," he replied.
Linyue frowned at him, a tiny crease forming between her uneven brows. "Why not?"
That made him pause.
Why not, she asked? Good question. Excellent question. One he could not possibly answer honestly. Because the truth—I was too busy clutching the pouch like a lovesick fool thinking about you—was not something that would ever, ever leave his mouth. So he just stared at her instead. His thoughts began to wander down dangerous paths again. Should he even think too much about this? Should he let himself hope, only to be crushed again? Was this just her being polite… or could it be… something else?
"Should I drink it now?" he asked at last, slow and cautious.
Linyue looked at the pouch tied to his belt. "Of course. It's not for decoration."
Ah. Concern. That was definitely concern. His heart skipped, tripped, and then threw itself face-first onto the ground. He coughed lightly, trying to hide the ridiculous smile pulling at his lips, and obediently reached for the pouch. The elixir bottle came out with a soft clink. One drink, and suddenly, healing had never felt so good.
Linyue watched him sip the elixir, watched how his eyes crinkled faintly as he tried not to grin like a fool. He was grinning like a fool anyway.
She raised one eyebrow, her expression perfectly calm and perfectly unimpressed. She made no effort to hide it. Still… her gaze stayed on him a little longer than usual. If this had been before, she wouldn't have cared. Whether he drank it or not. Whether he healed or keeled over right there on the floor. But now, the thought didn't sit right. Maybe Song Meiyu's constant lectures were working after all. Maybe she was learning how to feel things again. Feel… concern. Or something close enough. She wasn't sure if she was still emotionally stunted. Probably. But at least there was progress. Yes. She decided firmly. It was progress.
"Let's go," Shu Mingye said, voice calm.
They began to walk side by side through the quiet corridor toward the palace training ground. The sunlight spilled across the floor, golden and soft, and the silence between them was oddly nice.
Linyue walked with her usual steady steps. She noticed Shu Mingye kept glancing down—not at her face, not at her expression, but… at her hand.
Was he hesitating to hold it?
Without thinking, she reached over and took his hand. His hand was big, warm, and steady. Comfortable, she thought. She liked it. A small smile appeared on her lips.