He leaned in closer, letting his cheek brush lightly against the side of her neck. Not enough for her to notice, probably.
Addicting, he thought. How was he supposed to let her go now? He didn't want to. Not even a little. That glowing face, that mischievous little smile. If he let her walk around like this, she'd definitely attract all sorts of pests. The flirty kind. The annoying kind. The ones he would have to set on fire.
Shu Mingye's jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed as possessiveness bloomed deep in his chest.
Mine, something in him whispered. All mine.
Except she wasn't his. Not officially. Not technically. Not anything.
He let out a long, long sigh—dramatic enough that it stirred a loose strand of her hair. This wasn't love. This was… a tragedy with an overachieving dream. One-sided. Heavily scented. Increasingly embarrassing.
Get a grip, he told himself. You're the King of Shulin. You burn things for living.
His arms tightened slightly around her waist anyway. Just for balance. For safety. Definitely not for any other reason.
Linyue tilted her head, catching him from the corner of her eye. So it wasn't her imagination. The great, terrifying King of Shulin was, in fact, still sniffing her. And not just sniffing, he was now rubbing his cheek against her shoulder like a spoiled cat.
She blinked once. Then inwardly, she sighed. It seemed sniffing her had become his new hobby. She didn't really mind. It wasn't unpleasant. His presence was warm. But wasn't this a little unfair? He got to rub and sniff whenever he liked, and she didn't even get to tease him for it?
A faint smile curved her lips, and mischief bloomed quietly in her chest. Without turning her head, she spoke in the sweetest tone. "Should I start charging you a sniffing fee?"
Shu Mingye froze. Mid-sniff. His thoughts exploded.
She knows. She KNOWS. Of course she knows. Why wouldn't she know? She's not blind. She's not stupid. Oh no. Oh no no no.
Wait. WAIT.
She hadn't stopped him. She didn't push him away. She didn't slap him, stab him or scold him. Was that… was that a good sign? Sniffing fee. What did that mean? Was she serious? Was she joking? Was this a trap? A test?
His brain, unfortunately, chose that moment to completely fall apart. All the logical, deadly parts of him were gone. The only thing left was one overheated, ridiculous thought. His mouth, completely unsupervised, betrayed him.
"...Should I pay with my body?"
Silence. Even the horse seemed to pause for half a second, its ears flicking back as if it too had heard something unholy.
Shu Mingye froze. His entire body went stiff.
Did I just… did I seriously…
Yes. He had actually said it. Out loud.
No. No no no no no.
Before he could crumble into dust from pure embarrassment, Linyue tilted her head, slow and deliberate. Her dark eyes gleamed, and her lips curved into a smile so faint yet so lethal that his pulse stumbled in its rhythm.
"Is that your way of asking for a discount?" she asked lightly, voice dripping with amusement.
Shu Mingye's soul quietly left his body. On the outside, he somehow maintained his cold, kingly mask in place—stone still, jaw set, eyes unreadable. Perfect. But inside? Absolute chaos. He was screaming, shouting, and rolling dramatically across the metaphorical floor of his mind palace.
Death by dimples. That smile was illegal. Criminal. It should come with a warning sign. And she knew it. She definitely knew. He could see it in her expression. That quiet, knowing grin widening slightly, like she had just discovered a new favorite game: Fluster the Fearsome Demon King.
She's changed, Shu Mingye thought, a little panicked. Not bad. No, not bad at all. But dangerous. Dangerous for him. For his sanity. For his poor, defenseless heart. At this rate, he would not survive until sunrise. He tried to calm down. He really did. Deep breaths. Logical thoughts. Count backwards from ten. Do anything except picture the thousand wildly inappropriate scenarios his treacherous brain was currently serving up on a silver platter.
Naturally, his body betrayed him again. He went back to sniffing her.
Bad idea. The gardenia scent hit him—fresh, cool, sweet, maddening. It wrapped around his senses, tugged at the edges of his self-control, and whispered "you're doomed" right into his ear. Before he could stop himself, his grip on her waist tightened.
He leaned in, his voice dropping low, almost like a confession meant for her alone. "Just what has gotten into you?" Shu Mingye murmured. "Why are you like this?"
Linyue answered without missing a beat, her tone light and teasing. "Why? You don't like it?"
Shu Mingye choked on air.
Like it? LIKE it?
This woman was evil. Gorgeous, cold-handed, dimples evil. The worst kind of evil, because it didn't destroy states or soldiers. It destroyed him. Quietly. Thoroughly. With just a single question.
He didn't answer. He couldn't. Because if he opened his mouth right now, he might actually confess something horrifyingly real. Like how he wanted to marry her immediately. Or plant gardenias all over Shulin Palace just so the entire palace smelled like her. Or ask her to smile at him like that every single day for the rest of his life.
Instead, he let out a sound. A small, strangled sound that might have been a sigh. Or a prayer. Or a tiny scream. Then, like the emotionally responsible king he definitely was not, he pressed his forehead gently against the back of her shoulder.
"Unfair…" he mumbled.
His hand tightened around her waist again. Not painfully. Not possessively. Just enough that Linyue felt the faintest tremor in his grip, as if he was either trying to hold her in place, or trying very hard not to fall apart.
Linyue's lips curved. Maybe Song Meiyu was right all along.
Had she really been this emotionally stunted before? No, worse. Emotionally retarded. Even Song Meiyu knew it. So how had she been so blind?
At the time, she hadn't understood all the teasing or the knowing looks her friend kept throwing her way. But now, she could feel the sound of his heartbeat against her back, loud and unruly. Like it didn't care about rules or appearances. Just boom, boom, boom—shameless and noisy. She didn't know how she felt about him, not completely. She didn't dislike him. She liked his warmth. That counted for something, didn't it? But was that enough?
She wasn't sure. For now, she decided, she'd let him sniff. Later, she would absolutely charge him. Maybe per sniff. Maybe by the hour.
The night air was cool and clean. The steady rhythm of the horse's hooves echoed in the distance. Stars began to blink into the sky again like they were clocking in after a long shift off.
Linyue lifted her gaze. It was a peaceful sight. Maybe Song Meiyu was still in the barracks, treating the wounded with her usual noisy fussing. Maybe He Yuying was standing nearby, arms crossed, pretending he didn't care but probably throwing sarcastic comments anyway. But for now, things were quiet. Maybe, tonight she could sleep without worries.
She tilted her head slightly. Not enough to break the strange… whatever-this-was between them. Just enough to ask softly, "Were you badly hurt?"
Shu Mingye finally lifted his head. His face was unreadable, but his ears were a little red. "Mhm," he mumbled. Then, after a pause, he added with great seriousness, "Physically and emotionally."
Linyue raised an eyebrow. "Emotionally? Because I charged you a sniffing fee?"
"…Yes," he muttered. "And you didn't even give a discount."
She smiled again. Bright, mischievous, and dangerous to his lifespan. "Too late now," she said. "It's peak hours."
Shu Mingye gave her a slow sideways look.
Dangerous. That was the word. This version of Linyue—smiling, teasing, dimples showing—was dangerously cute. He didn't hate it. Not even a little. In fact, he liked it far too much. So much that his brain threatened to shut down every time those cursed dimples appeared. But he couldn't help wondering… what happened in those five days she was asleep?
She had woken up different. Like something inside her had shifted. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved, worried, or more hopelessly smitten than before. His train of thought derailed completely when her voice cut in.
"Here."
She held out a small glass bottle that glowed faintly. It was unmistakably a healing elixir.
Shu Mingye stared at it. "You should have it," he said. "I'm fine."
She tilted her head, her smile warm but unyielding. "I have dozens of these."
Right. Of course she did. With a quiet sigh, he took the elixir and tucked it somewhere inside his robe. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her still smiling at him. Dimples. Dangerous dimples.
He let out a long, heavy breath. "Just what kind of dream made you become like this?"