From Zhuge Yu Jin's Perspective
By fortune — or perhaps by a rare act of mercy from fate — the fastest way to travel from the Wu Dynasty back to Zhuge Island was by sea.
For Yu Jin, that was a blessing.
One of the few life had ever granted him.
It meant, above all, that he was free from the torture the monks called "spiritual pilgrimage" — or, in more honest terms, walking until your legs rotted while pretending every step meant enlightenment.
Among all the absurd habits the monastery had tried to impose on him, that one certainly ranked near the top.
If someone asked him to list all the bad customs he'd witnessed there, it would take weeks — maybe months.
Thankfully, he no longer had to worry about that.
The calm, blue-gray sea stretched endlessly before him, and the gentle sway of the ship was all that stood between him and freedom.
And, as a bonus, he had pleasant company.
Or… at least interesting company.
His charmingly explosive fiancée — Wu Xian Yue, the young woman who had tried to literally cut off his head less than two days ago — now accompanied him on the return journey.
In a way, Yu Jin found it amusing.
Fate, it seemed, had an odd sense of humor.
The ocean breeze hit his face — cold and salty — tossing his golden hair into disarray.
He leaned casually against the ship's railing, watching the girl a few meters away, standing with impeccable posture and her eyes fixed on the horizon.
Her dark gray tunic fluttered lightly in the wind, and the white jade pin holding her hair gleamed beneath the morning sun.
She hadn't spoken to him — which, honestly, was a relief.
After their fight and everything that followed, her silence was the best gift he could have asked for.
Still, he couldn't help but smile.
That impulsive decision to drag her along to Zhuge Island — made more out of whim than strategy — now struck him as brilliant.
He hadn't thought much of it during the duel, but in hindsight, the idea was almost genius.
Because he could already picture, with uncomfortable clarity, what awaited him back home.
The spiritual reception squad — a group of elderly men with serene expressions, dressed in white, specialists in "harmonizing environments and promoting inner peace."
Translation: the rent-a-monks his brother, Emperor Su Yeon, always sent to greet him, as if that would somehow cure his "destructive impulses."
Then there would be his mother and sister — the two gentlest, kindest creatures on Zhuge Island… at least until he opened his mouth.
They'd look at him with that same expression of tender frustration — that perfect mix of disappointment, worry, and unmistakable maternal disapproval.
"Oh, Yu Jin… why did you kill all those monks, dear?"
He could already hear the words, spoken in that sweet, patient tone — as if the problem were a childhood prank, not a continental-scale spiritual massacre.
And then, of course, came the twin pillars of patience:
his elder siblings — Su Yeon, the emperor, and Su Lan, the empire's guardian.
Ah yes, they would be there.
Standing side by side, wearing that infuriating air of composure he so despised.
Always calm.
Always dignified.
Always right.
They would greet him with lectures about diplomacy, responsibility, and — naturally — self-control.
Most likely, Abbot Shen Ming — the bald kidnapper, as Yu Jin liked to call him in his thoughts — would be dragged into the conversation, while Su Lan tried to mediate the tensions between the monastery and the empire.
All so formal, so restrained, so… unbearable.
And that would just be day one.
The following days would bring the real torture — the lectures, the meetings, the mandatory visits, the long lessons about "inner peace" and "emotional balance" that lasted longer than most wars.
It was a fate worse than any battlefield.
But now, Yu Jin had an ace up his sleeve.
Or rather, a fiancée on board.
With Wu Xian Yue at his side, he had temporary protection.
Even if they wanted to, his siblings wouldn't dare lecture him openly — not in front of the daughter of Emperor Wu.
Etiquette, after all.
Which meant… time.
Time for the scandal to fade.
Time for the elders to get distracted by another crisis.
Time for him to come up with a good excuse — or a new escape route.
Yes, it was a perfect plan.
He glanced at Yue again, who still stared silently at the sea.
The cold wind brushed against her face, stirring loose strands of red hair that shimmered under the pale morning light like sparks of moving copper.
That color — not fully red, not quite gold — was something he had never seen before.
It looked like the color of fire tamed, but still alive, always on the verge of breaking free.
She no longer wore her training garb from the Wu court, but light travel clothes made of thick fabric, fit for sea winds.
Yet even in simplicity, her presence couldn't be hidden.
The pale tunic, cinched at the waist by a bluish-gray sash, shaped her figure subtly, revealing the effortless grace of her every movement.
The wide sleeves, tied near the forearms, fluttered in the breeze, the fabric tracing the strength hidden beneath her calm posture — straight shoulders, erect back, the disciplined bearing of someone raised never to bow.
Her bare feet rested lightly on the deck, moving with the balance of someone still in training even here, amid the ship's sway and the salty air.
The modest outfit did not diminish her.
If anything, it made her even more striking.
She was the kind of woman who needed no adornments to seem noble — her discipline itself was her beauty.
A braided leather belt held a small pouch and her sword's sheath.
Even while traveling, she never left it behind.
That blade felt less like a weapon and more like an extension of her soul.
The cold wind blew again, lifting her long strands of hair to dance around her face.
Her eyes — sharp, gray-blue — stayed fixed on the distant horizon, reflecting the restless color of the sea.
There was something unbreakable in them, something like the gleam of a blade before dawn — beautiful, but deadly.
The white jade pin holding part of her hair contrasted with the warm tone of her strands, radiating a purity almost symbolic — a visible reminder of the Wu legacy, of honor and control.
But under the light, Yu Jin could swear he saw a faint, nearly invisible detail — a hint of tension, a spark of unrest, as if the sea before her was merely a mirror of the storm burning within.
So proud.
So untouchable.
And yet, so alive.
It was almost endearing, he thought — if not for the fact that she probably still dreamed of driving that sword straight through his chest.
And maybe that was exactly what made her so fascinating.
There was something about Wu Xian Yue that defied the common idea of beauty.
She wasn't made of gentleness or grace, but of disciplined fire — the kind of flame that destroys if touched but warms from a distance.
She was a storm contained in human form.
And as Yu Jin watched her in silence, he realized fate might have an even crueler sense of humor than he thought:
he might actually have become a little intrigued by the girl who likely still wanted him dead.
Yu Jin chuckled softly, closing his eyes for a moment.
The scent of salt, the rhythm of the waves, the faint calls of sailors in the distance — everything was at peace.
And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to relax.
The chaos he'd left behind followed him like a shadow.
But for now, the sea separated him from the hell waiting on Zhuge Island.
And as the ship sailed slowly over the frozen waters, the heir of catastrophe simply smiled —
convinced that, for a few more days at least, hell was far enough away to let him rest.