“Mu Xueshi, you are but a prison slave, bearing the charge of patricide. It is presently the Eight Homage Festival. His Majesty and the court ministers offer sacrifice at the eight tower peaks of the capital, praying for peace and prosperity. During this time, all executions and punishments are suspended. Your case will resume in one month, in accordance with the laws of Yunxi.”
He paused, voice chilling.
“Until then, you shall not step beyond Qingyun Palace. Should I take you outside, you will wear a mask. Remember—each additional person who glimpses your face will cost another life.”
A tremor ran through Mu Xueshi’s heart.
So the original owner of this body had murdered his own father. No wonder he had been exiled.
That meant he had only one month to find the silver coin and return home. Otherwise, he would die here in another man’s stead.
Noticing Mu Xueshi’s wandering thoughts, the Third Prince fixed him with a direct stare.
Mu Xueshi seemed oddly attuned to that gaze—whenever it settled upon him, he felt it instantly.
“I shall obey Your Highness the Third Prince’s instruction,” Mu Xueshi declared, attempting formality. “I will certainly act as commanded, and not show the slightest… neglect…”
Was that the right word?
He scratched his ear awkwardly, looking absurdly sheepish. Catching the prince’s interested gaze, he snapped to attention and forced a rigid smile.
The Third Prince reached out and traced a finger across Mu Xueshi’s cheek—indicating he could wash away the ink-mud from his face. Only the two of them were present; he had no desire to look upon such a sight.
Mu Xueshi, half-understanding, mimicked the gesture—lifting his own hand and lightly tracing a line across the Third Prince’s cheek.
“Like this? Does that mean it’s settled?”
The Third Prince stilled.
At the mere brush of Mu Xueshi’s fingertip, a faint warmth spread along his skin. When their eyes met, Mu Xueshi was smiling—open, unguarded, without the slightest artifice.
For a fleeting instant, the Third Prince nearly lost himself in those clear, luminous eyes—the same eyes Su Ying had once likened to enchanted pearls.
Mu Xueshi, meanwhile, thought the prince devastatingly handsome. Even among modern celebrities, such beauty was rare. If he ever smiled properly, countless young women would swoon. Instead, he kept that cold expression—no wonder he frightened them all away.
Perhaps, once they grew closer, he would mention it.
Maybe the Third Prince’s coldness was merely a façade. If he were careful—avoided offending his authority, obeyed his commands—he might survive.
And perhaps, by befriending him, he could even use the prince’s power to find the silver coin.
Lost in these thoughts, Mu Xueshi failed to realize his expression betrayed everything—like a cat that had stolen cream.
The Third Prince watched in quiet astonishment.
In a court where every man guarded his thoughts like a blade at his throat, Mu Xueshi’s heart lay bare upon his face.
It reminded him faintly of a memory years past—of a playful figure by a lakeside, radiant and untainted by the world.
Suddenly, the Third Prince smiled faintly.
“It is time to retire. Young Master Xue, shall we bathe together at Lingzi Lake?”
“Bathe… in the lake?” Mu Xueshi blurted, then hastily covered his mouth. “If Your Highness the Third Prince so grants it, this commoner is honored.”
Futile Devices Scans 
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