The moment Mu Xueshi realized he was to be left alone, he shouted at the top of his lungs:
“I wasn’t trying to run! I just wanted you to teach me that acupoint-sealing divine art—ahhh, it’s incredible! Can you come back? What if I need to relieve myself later?!”
After some time, the curtain lifted again, revealing the Third Prince’s expressionless face. Mu Xueshi immediately shut his wide-open mouth.
Blinking his crystalline eyes in supplication, he pleaded softly, “Teach me.”
The prince acted as though he had heard nothing. In his hand was a crimson box containing a dark, inky paste. Dipping his fingers into it, he smeared a streak across Mu Xueshi’s flawless cheek, leaving a black blot like that of a mischievous child.
A faint smile touched the prince’s eyes. With deliberate strokes, he painted three lines across each cheek and a bold “王” upon his forehead. The effect was absurdly playful.
Mu Xueshi, however, blinked foolishly. “Uh… face masks won’t help this face of mine. Don’t waste good stuff.”
Though the prince did not understand the words, Mu Xueshi had unwittingly spoken truth. The paste would not harm the skin—it nourished and brightened it, ground from a hundred flower nectars. Such luxuries were reserved for favored consorts and used only in secrecy.
Half an hour later, only two round eyes remained visible on Mu Xueshi’s ink-darkened face, rolling in confusion.
Satisfied, the Third Prince bound a strip of black cloth over those eyes as well. Now not a single feature remained visible.
Darkness fell.
“Don’t leave me here alone! I’m coming too! I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming—!”
After shouting two hundred times, Mu Xueshi’s voice grew hoarse. The prince had long since vanished. Dejected, he eventually drifted into sleep.
He did not know how much time had passed when an itching sensation on his face roused him. Blindfolded, he could not see what caused it. The feeling intensified—like a small hand scratching at him.
A cold sweat broke out.
“This place doesn’t keep cats or dogs, does it? If it’s some bug… or a scorpion… that’d be worse…”
Unable to move an inch, he could only lie there in mounting panic. Then something soft and warm brushed his brow, wiping away the sweat.
Close to his ear, he heard soft, steady breathing.
At last he realized—someone was beside him.
Relief flooded him. “Help me take this blindfold off,” he said.
The scratching ceased. A faint murmur reached his ears, indistinct—like a child just learning to speak.
“Ar…rived…”
“What arrived?” Mu Xueshi frowned.
Before he could ask further, the small hand resumed its busy scratching at his face, smearing the prince’s precious paste. And though he assumed it to be a child, in this ancient land—who knew what rare creature might have found its way to him?
Futile Devices Scans 
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