With a commanding voice, Shu Mingye said, “Sit. All of you.”
No one dared to argue. One by one, the three other troublemakers dragged themselves to the table. Song iyu plopped into her seat with a nervous giggle. He Yuying scratched his head awkwardly, and Prince Lu looked far too relaxed for soone who just escaped mortal combat with a pair of boots.
Shu Mingye’s gaze swept over the room, sharp and heavy. It landed on each person in turn before he asked, voice smooth and dangerously polite, “Who wants to start?”
Song iyu’s hand shot up. Without hesitation, she pointed straight at Prince Lu. “We didn’t know anything! He suddenly knocked on the window and climbed in like a bandit!”
All heads turned to Prince Lu. He Yuying leaned back and slid his chair a few inches away from Prince Lu. His face said everything: I barely know this man.
Shu Mingye narrowed his eyes at Prince Lu, a deadly glint in his gaze. “So… Prince Lu ca all the way from the far east just to sneak into a woman’s chamber late at night?”
Prince Lu, finally free from the boots of doom and now comfortably seated, lifted his chin and smirked. “What’s wrong with that? We almost got married.” His gaze slid toward Linyue, daring and soft at once.
Linyue froze. Her mind went blank. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, eyes wide. “We?!” she echoed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “How co I didn’t know about it?”
Prince Lu simply gave her a wink. He even leaned back slightly in his chair, as if expecting applause.
Across the table, Shu Mingye’s expression darkened. The temperature dropped a few degrees. A cold breeze seed to blow across the room. The murderous aura leaking from his very soul was enough to make even the chair under Prince Lu slightly squeak in fear.
Song iyu, blessed or cursed with no survival instincts at all, leaned forward with a radiant smile. “Well, it’s not wrong. He did propose to you, Sister Linyue. More than once, actually!”
A mont of silence fell across the room.
Shu Mingye’s brow twitched.
More than once?
He turned his head, slowly, deliberately, until his gaze landed on Linyue. His frown deepened with every passing heartbeat. So it was true? That infuriating peacock of a prince really had proposed to her, and not just once but multiple tis?
His thoughts spun. Was that why she had looked so nervous earlier? Why she tried to run? Why she claid she needed her so-called “beauty sleep”? Was that innocent excuse actually so kind of coded ergency escape plan?
Linyue sighed.
Oh. Right. That did happen.
“Did I not refuse?” she asked flatly, turning her gaze on Prince Lu. “What is with the almost? And why are you even here?”
Prince Lu, utterly immune to sha and common sense, leaned back in his chair with a charming smile. “To see you, of course. I miss you.”
Linyue stared at him, horrified. Was he serious? Was he actually trying to die?
Song iyu let out a gasp so dramatic it could have echoed through the heavens. She looked like she had just witnessed the juiciest scandal of the century (which, to be fair, she kind of had). Her eyes were wide, practically sparkling.
He Yuying choked on thin air. His hand flew to his throat as he coughed and pounded his chest, wheezing like the situation itself was trying to assassinate him.
And then there was Shu Mingye. He said nothing. Not a single word. He sat very still, very quiet, looking exactly like soone who was calculating how many ways a prince could “accidentally” disappear within palace grounds. His fingers tapped once against the table. His jaw tightened, a single muscle twitching. If looks could kill, Prince Lu would already be a handso pile of royal ashes, smoking gently on the floor.
Linyue could practically feel the murderous aura rolling off Shu Mingye. His usual grumpy face had gone straight past “annoyed” and marched boldly into the territory of actual danger. His jaw was locked, his hands curled into fists, and his eyes looked ready to spear straight through Prince Lu’s soul.
And for what?
She wasn’t Princess Fu Yuxin. She wasn’t even his supposed bride. So why in the world did he look like he was about to challenge Prince Lu to a duel at midnight under a blood moon?
Linyue sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. “This is why I said I needed beauty sleep,” she muttered. “Not for my face. For my sanity.”
Prince Lu, either blessed with courage or cursed with no sense of danger, leaned forward with a smile so bright it was almost blinding. Completely unaware that the room was one breath away from violence, he said smoothly, “You don’t need beauty sleep. You’re already beautiful.”
Song iyu let out a tiny gasp. She slowly edged closer to He Yuying and whispered, “Should we prepare a coffin now or later?”
He Yuying didn’t answer. He was too busy calculating how fast he could jump out the window before the table and possibly the entire room erupted in flas.
anwhile, Shu Mingye’s eyes never left Prince Lu. The air seed to grow colder with every second. His killing intent was so sharp it could probably slice vegetables without a knife.
Prince Lu, the source of everyone's future funeral plans, just kept smiling like he hadn’t noticed death breathing down his neck.
Sensing the disaster about to unfold, Linyue instinctively reached out and caught Shu Mingye’s hand. She didn’t look panicked, just calm. His hand, usually warm and steady, felt cold now. Not as cold as hers—her hands could probably freeze soup if given the chance—but still cold. No warmth. No softness. Just quiet, bottled-up fury. Yet even so, she did not let go.
Shu Mingye flinched slightly, startled by the sudden touch. His brows twitched. He looked at her. For a mont, the storm in his eyes wavered. The sharp edge in the air dulled. The invisible “Prince-Lu-Disposal” plan seed to pause… perhaps only postponed until tomorrow’s to-do list.
Turning away from him, Linyue fixed her gaze on the source of tonight’s chaos. Her voice was calm and direct. “Did Master Yin Xue ask you to co here?”
Prince Lu, clearly delighted to have the spotlight once more, leaned back with a crooked smile. “That’s not wrong,” he said casually. Then, as if the situation were not already on the edge of bloodshed, he added, “But my priority is still you.”
He even finished with a wink. A wink.
Everyone in the room ntally prepared for another door or possibly a prince to be kicked into oblivion.
Still holding onto Shu Mingye’s hand, partly to keep him grounded and partly to make sure he didn’t launch a fireball at the guest, Linyue looked at Prince Lu with her usual flat expression. “Be serious.”
Shu Mingye’s fingers twitched in hers. Still cold. Still tense. But he had not pulled away. Progress? Maybe. At the very least, no one was dead yet. That counted as progress too.
Prince Lu, however, seed determined to test fate. He looked at Linyue with a strangely serious expression. “You’re the only one who never takes seriously,” he said with a tragic sigh.
Linyue blinked at him. Was that supposed to be romantic? It sounded more like the opening line of his funeral speech.
At last, in a rare flash of sanity, Prince Lu straightened in his seat. His voice shifted, more asured now. “Master Yin Xue sent ,” he said. “She was worried. You know he doesn’t exactly have… the best reputation.”
His gaze flicked toward Shu Mingye—brief, cautious—then returned to Linyue. “She gave dicine supplies and told to deliver them to Shulin. And if necessary…”
A pause. A bold, foolish pause.
“…take you back forcefully if anything happens.”
Linyue raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine. What could happen to here?” She gestured vaguely at the palace around them. The aning was clear: Look, no blood. Yet. That was practically a vacation by their standards.
Tilting her head, she gave him a suspicious look. “Didn’t Master Yin Xue just talk to us the other day?”
Prince Lu’s expression shifted. For once, a flicker of sheepishness crossed his face. “She sent before that. Linyue, do you really not know… or are you pretending not to know?” His voice dropped, low and heavy. “He killed a lot of people. A lot. This isn’t just gossip. It’s real.”
“Oh good,” He Yuying muttered. “It’s ti for the part where people talk about murder at the dinner table.”
Song iyu leaned over, eyes wide. “Should we set out snacks or a coffin?” she whispered.
A perfectly reasonable question, given the company.
Prince Lu, still alive and sohow still speaking, turned his attention back to Shu Mingye. He was clearly bracing himself for an explosion but kept talking anyway. “He killed his own uncle,” he said, his tone almost daring. “Not just killed. He started by breaking his fingers one by one, like snapping bamboo. Then he chopped them like vegetables.”
He Yuying quietly pushed his chair an inch farther from the table.
Song iyu covered her ears. “Too much information!”
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