Shumin woke up slowly.
Too slowly.
The first thing she noticed was the scent—clean, deep, unfamiliar.
The second thing was the bed.
Big.
Too big.
Silk curtains. Dark wood. No cracks in the ceiling.
Her heart skipped.
She sat up abruptly.
"…This is not my room."
Her gaze dropped to the bedding, then to her sleeves—still properly tied, still neat. Nothing looked wrong.
That should have been reassuring.
Instead, it made her more nervous.
She pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to remember.
Nothing.
Blank.
Only broken fragments surfaced—
A face too close to hers.
Sharp eyes.
A low voice.
You're very handsome.
Her face burned.
"Oh no," she whispered. "Please tell me I didn't say that out loud."
She remembered laughing.
Talking too much.
Then....nothing.
The part that mattered most was missing.
She slid off the bed quietly, like a criminal escaping a crime scene she couldn't even remember committing.
"If I leave now," she muttered, "maybe history will pretend this never happened."
She tiptoed toward the door.
Just as her fingers touched the handle—
The door opened.
Li Zhan stood there.
Fully dressed.
Fully awake.
Fully terrifying.
Shumin froze.
Her soul nearly left her body.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned around to face him.
Her mouth opened.
The first thing she asked—
"Nothing happened between us… right?"
Silence.
Li Zhan's gaze swept over her calmly.
Then he spoke.
"Ask me," he said coolly, "what didn't happen."
Her brain exploded.
She took a step back.
Then another.
Her voice shook. "Your Majesty… I was drunk."
"I noticed."
"I also… respect the Queen," she blurted out desperately.
"I'm not that kind of person! I'm a cupid! I mean...metaphorically..emotionally..."
She stopped herself, squeezing her eyes shut.
This was bad.
Very bad.
Li Zhan walked past her, unhurried, as if her panic was nothing more than background noise.
"You talked," he said.
Her heart sank.
"A lot."
She wanted to vanish.
"You praised my appearance," he continued.
"Criticized my personality."
"Declared loyalty to my marriage."
"And then," his voice dropped slightly, "fell asleep."
She blinked.
"…That's it?"
"That's it."
Relief crashed into her so hard her knees nearly gave out.
Thank heavens.
She clasped her hands together, bowing deeply.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you for your mercy. I swear, I will never drink again. Not wine, not tea, not even suspicious soup."
Li Zhan watched her silently.
Then, colder—
"Do not test your luck again, Concubine Wen."
Her smile faltered.
"Yes… Your Majesty."
She hesitated, then spoke more softly.
"I didn't mean to cross any lines. And… I never forgot my place."
Her fingers curled into her sleeves.
"You and the Queen… that matters to me."
His expression flickered...just for a second.
Something unreadable.
Then it hardened again.
"You may leave," he said.
She bowed once more and hurried out, her face burning, heart racing.
As she crossed the threshold, one thought echoed in her mind:
I really need to fix their love story…
Before I accidentally ruin my own neck.
And behind her—
Li Zhan remained still, gaze lingering on the space she had just left.
Longer than he should have.
---
The door closed.
Softly.
Too softly.
Li Zhan stood alone in his chamber, the silence suddenly louder than before.
For a long moment, he didn't move.
Then he exhaled.
"…Clueless."
He walked toward the window, hands clasped behind his back. Outside, the palace was already awake—orderly, disciplined, predictable.
Unlike her.
Her face flashed in his mind.
The way she panicked.
The way she blurted out nonsense without thinking.
The way she asked that question first thing in the morning.
Nothing happened… right?
A corner of his lips lifted before he realized it.
He stopped himself immediately.
"Tch..."
Ridiculous.
And yet—
She had been honest. Painfully so.
Drunk, half-asleep, utterly unguarded.
She had called him handsome without hesitation, then immediately drawn a line so firm it almost hurt.
The King belongs to the Queen.
Li Zhan's jaw tightened.
Belongs?
He looked down at his own hands.
That marriage…
It had never been about love.
A political bond.
A crown weighed down by alliances.
A duty he accepted without question.
Love had never been part of the agreement.
He had never asked for it.
Never expected it.
So why did her words bother him?
He closed his eyes briefly.
She had spoken of him and the Queen like characters in a story—destined, written, unchangeable.
As if his heart had already been decided.
And yet—
She herself was nothing like fate.
She interfered.
She helped strangers.
She risked punishment for people who couldn't even thank her properly.
Malnourished villagers.
A reckless rescue.
A scarf given without hesitation.
Kind...
Too kind for the palace.
His gaze drifted to his sleeve.
The memory of that uneven scarf tightened something in his chest.
When he was masked..when he was no one...she spoke freely.
Scolded him.
Teased him.
Trusted him.
She never tried to push him toward the Queen then.
Only when he was the King.
That difference… lingered.
"…Wen Qian," he murmured.
Suddenly a unnoticed concubine who behaved like she had nothing to lose.
Who smiled too easily.
Cared too deeply.
And feared death only enough to keep joking about it.
He didn't like that she kept pushing him toward someone else.
Didn't like it at all.
And he especially didn't like how natural it felt to be seen by her...when he wasn't wearing a crown.
Li Zhan turned away from the window.
Troublesome.
Very troublesome.
He straightened his robe, his expression returning to calm indifference.
Whatever this was—
He would not allow it to grow.
After all…
Love was never meant for him.
…Right?
Li Zhan lowered his gaze, shadows falling across his expression.
"…This is a mistake," he said quietly, as if warning himself.
But even as he said it, another thought followed—unwanted, uninvited, honest.
If he truly pushed her away…
If he crushed that light himself…
Would he regret it?
The answer came too easily.
Yes.
That realization unsettled him more than any political threat ever had.
He turned toward the door, face once again calm, controlled, unreadable.
For now, he would pretend nothing had changed.
For now, he would keep his distance.