Mu Xueshi had always felt that the Third Prince lived far too repressed a life.
It was only after becoming his so-called “friend” that Mu Xueshi truly began observing and understanding the prince’s daily existence. Aside from reading, painting, and the occasional martial practice, the Third Prince had almost no diversions to speak of. Though Mu Xueshi delighted in clinging to him, he did not wish for them to merely while away such colorless days together.
If the prince sincerely regarded him as a friend, then surely he had an obligation to give something in return.
At the very least, before he eventually departed, he wanted the Third Prince to learn how to find joy in life—to smile once in a while instead of living beneath that perpetual frost.
If there existed even a single thing capable of coaxing a smile from those cold lips, Mu Xueshi would exhaust every effort to create it.
On the very day he resolved this, the Third Prince happened to leave his sleeping palace—an uncommon occurrence. Mu Xueshi immediately decided to renovate the entire chamber while he was gone.
Sometimes, surroundings could shape the heart.
Even Mu Xueshi found himself unwilling to speak within those elegant yet frigid walls.
Once determined, he acted at once.
He rushed into the courtyard and summoned every eunuch and guard, demanding paint, ribbons, streamers—anything bright and festive. When the guards stared blankly, he called for the three maids. The moment he spoke to them, his tone curved through several bends, his entire face radiating courtesy.
Of the three, he favored Qingyun most—she alone had once smiled at him.
After much gesturing and animated explanation, Qingyun finally grasped his intentions. Such decorations had never appeared in the palace before; they would have to improvise.
The maids hurried to the embroidery chambers, explaining Mu Xueshi’s ideas while weaving silk ribbons into ornaments. The tailors and embroiderers were all deft-handed artisans—capable not only of garments but exquisite hanging decorations as well.
Meanwhile, Mu Xueshi mixed his own pigments and painted the prince’s originally dark crimson walls a vibrant orange-red. The chamber brightened instantly.
So did he—by the end, half his body was stained orange.
The three maids covered their mouths to stifle laughter, but Mu Xueshi stood there immensely proud.
Once everything was finished, he bathed thoroughly. Throughout, he cast playful glances at the serving maids—only to discover that every attendant chosen by the Third Prince possessed iron composure. No matter how he hinted, none reacted. In the end, he was the only one left embarrassed.
After dressing in splendid new robes, he seated himself eagerly to await the prince’s return.
He longed to see that faint shift in the prince’s expression. Even the slightest change was encouragement enough.
But night fell.
And the Third Prince did not return.
Disappointment crept in. Mu Xueshi sprawled upon the couch, idly nibbling fruit. Hours passed. At last he could hold out no longer and fell asleep.
Yet his vigilance remained sharp—at the faintest sound in the courtyard, he would leap up and rush outside.
Each time, there was no sign of the Third Prince.
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