His chest felt stifled.
Only then did Mu Xueshi turn his attention back to the Third Prince.
Why was he being pressed down like this? Some ritual of the underworld, perhaps? It seemed prudent to inquire.
“Brother White, I have something I’d like to consult you about…” Mu Xueshi spoke with deliberate politeness, wearing a humble smile.
The Third Prince had not expected him to speak at all—nor that the once frost-bound face now seemed vivid and changeable.
Feigning? Or truly deranged?
Seeing no reply forthcoming, Mu Xueshi cleared his throat and asked louder, “Brother, could you perhaps press me down later? I’d like to catch my breath first.”
Such peculiar phrasing.
The Third Prince narrowed his eyes, studying him before stepping aside obediently, curious to see what trick he played.
Yet Mu Xueshi seemed oblivious to the scrutiny. He climbed from the bed, touching this and examining that. Seizing the nearest bronze lamp, he exclaimed, “Good heavens—these are genuine antiques!”
The admiration in his eyes deepened the prince’s suspicion.
Mu Xueshi hurried to put on shoes, only to find none. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed clad only in undergarments, craning his neck in search. At last, he crouched to peer beneath the bed, his flawless face soon dusted with grime.
“No shoes? Ah… ghosts don’t seem to have feet…” he muttered, glancing down—then cried out, “Wait! I have feet! Hah—those ghost stories are all lies! Walking barefoot is freezing. What if I get an upset stomach and can’t even find a latrine?”
At that moment, the Third Prince understood.
This criminal—burdened with grave sins—believed he had died at the pond and now wandered in delirium, unable to accept that he yet lived.
Meeting Mu Xueshi’s anxious gaze, the prince inclined his chin toward a pair of soft shoes at his own feet.
Quick-witted, Mu Xueshi understood at once, though he could scarcely believe such soft things were footwear. At first glance he had taken them for elaborate head ornaments, pearls set along their sides.
“What a waste—such pretty things to tread upon…” he muttered, lifting one leg clumsily to pull them on. His undergarments hung loose; with that motion, everything beneath was revealed in full.
“What are you staring at?” Mu Xueshi bounded before him, waving a hand, grinning brightly.
The Third Prince had barely recovered from that indecorous glimpse when he was struck anew by the brilliance of that transparent smile.
Then a chill flickered in his eyes.
Such joy—did it not mean Mu Xueshi had long yearned for death? How could he be allowed to cling to that belief? If he were truly mad, all the prince’s stratagems would avail him nothing.
Futile Devices Scans 
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