The Third Prince had clearly noticed the shadow as well, but the moment it disappeared, his gaze returned to Mu Xueshi’s face.
Mu Xueshi’s delicate brows were knitted together, as though he were thinking about something. Only when he noticed the Third Prince watching him did he realize the prince was waiting. Like a child, he stretched out both arms for the Third Prince to pull him onto the horse.
Mu Xueshi had only expected a hand up. Instead, the Third Prince dismounted, lifted him into his arms, and sprang back onto the horse. Before Mu Xueshi could react, the horse was already moving.
Every movement the Third Prince made seemed elegant and imposing. Even Mu Xueshi, a man himself, could not help being captivated by him, let alone women. Yet when he imagined the prince one day surrounded by beauties all competing for his favor, a strange bitterness stirred in his heart.
Although the Third Prince kept his gaze ahead, he noticed every change in Mu Xueshi. The youth had been smiling brightly when he mounted, yet now he seemed inexplicably dejected. The prince had some idea why, but could not be certain.
Suddenly Mu Xueshi’s expression changed. Grabbing the Third Prince’s arms tightly, he shouted, “Quick! Turn around! We need to go back to the Grand Tutor’s manor!”
“Why?” the Third Prince asked with a frown, unable to understand the sudden demand.
“I left my big bird there.”
The Third Prince’s brief concern immediately disappeared. He had thought Mu Xueshi had remembered some clue or become suspicious of something important. Instead, it was something utterly trivial.
The “big bird” Mu Xueshi meant was the one he had shot earlier with the bow. He had carried it like a treasure when he dismounted, until Steward Wang noticed it and volunteered to keep it for him.
Seeing that the Third Prince had no intention of turning back, Mu Xueshi began pleading nonstop. “Let’s just go back once! What if they cook it before I get it back? It’s the first thing I ever shot with a bow. I’ll feel accomplished every time I look at it in the future…”
The Third Prince remained cold and silent, clearly dismissive of the request.
Mu Xueshi stopped wasting words and immediately buried himself in the Third Prince’s chest, using what he proudly considered his ultimate move.
The horse let out a long whinny, planted its hind legs, then turned around and raced back toward the Grand Tutor’s manor.
Mu Xueshi looked immensely pleased with himself, though he tried to hide it in case the Third Prince noticed his little scheme and made the trick useless in the future. What made him even happier, however, was that the Third Prince seemed to like being close to him. In Mu Xueshi’s memories, aside from Mother Chen, almost no one had ever wanted to get close to him.
By the time they returned, the moon had risen above the treetops and the manor gates were already locked. Unwilling to waste time, the Third Prince slipped directly into the side chamber and found the bird Mu Xueshi had shot.
Just as he was about to leave with it, the Third Prince’s gaze settled on a set of clothes in the corner. They were the garments Mu Xueshi had worn before being imprisoned. Mu Xueshi had lived in this side chamber, a room so spare that aside from a bed, a folding chair, and a dark ink-colored screen, there was nothing else.
It was in this very room that the Third Prince had ordered Mu Xueshi taken to prison. He had even forced him to remove all his clothes in front of him and change into prison garments. At the time, Mu Xueshi had done so without expression, calmly replacing his clothes with the tattered uniform.
Remembering it now, the Third Prince found that the Mu Xueshi of the past had somehow grown blurred in his memory. Compared with the Mu Xueshi of today, it almost felt as though they were two different people. Whether the present Mu Xueshi wore a disguise or showed his true face, the Third Prince could no longer connect him with the person from before.
After standing there for a moment, the Third Prince picked up the clothes and left the side chamber without a sound.