Within the vast and desolate Linhan Palace, a lone grave stood in isolation. The tomb was empty—no remains lay within—only a name inscribed upon the spirit tablet. Around it, not even a blade of grass dared grow. The chill of dawn seeped into the air, biting and cold, as the Third Prince stood motionless before it for hours on end.
His long hair fell loose, his robes stirred faintly in the wind. At last, a flicker of emotion surfaced upon his sharply carved features.
“Mother…” he called softly.
Slowly, he knelt and bowed three times before the tablet.
“Your son has been unfilial. For the sake of saving the enemy’s child, I have forsaken you…”
…
A streak of crimson slid from his forehead down to the corner of his lips. He extended his tongue, tasting the blood. In his eyes, a savage light ignited.
“Mother… whoever took you from me shall repay this debt in blood.”
As the final trace of darkness receded, he rose and turned toward the courtyard.
The small courtyard had never been so crowded—nor so silent.
It teemed with imperial physicians, maids, and guards, all stationed outside the bedchamber, yet not a soul dared make a sound. The stillness was so profound that even the rustle of falling leaves could be heard.
The Third Prince strode through the crowd. Hearts tightened in every chest. A few dared to glance at him—but none could discern his expression.
He pushed open the doors.
Inside the main hall, two figures knelt, their eyes red with grief. Without a trace of urgency, the Third Prince walked steadily toward the bed.
Mu Xueshi lay just as he had been when the prince departed—his complexion rosy, his expression tranquil, as though merely asleep.
The prince gently lifted the thin veil covering his face, dismissed all attendants, and stood silently, gazing at him.
Within his sleeve, the silver coin began to grow warm.
He drew it out and laid it upon his palm. It seemed—just faintly—to glow.
After a night lost in endless darkness, Mu Xueshi felt, at last, the steady sensation of returning—like awakening from a long dream, finding himself once more within his own body.
His eyes opened.
The first thing he saw was the Third Prince’s gaze—heavy with concern. The second was the faintly glowing silver coin resting in his hand.
Despair?
Strangely, he felt none.
Perhaps, from the very moment he collapsed, he had already known—his time here was limited.
“Is it… some kind of spirit talisman?” the Third Prince asked quietly, eyes fixed on the coin.
Mu Xueshi understood his thoughts. It was not that the prince lacked insight—only that the truth was far too strange. No one would easily think of a soul transmigration.
He did not wish to speak of the coin. Nor did he care how it came to be in the prince’s possession.
Slowly, he sat up and leaned comfortably into the prince’s embrace, asking lightly, almost playfully:
“Where did you go last night?”
The Third Prince smiled faintly. “To find a physician for you.”
The words cut like a blade.
Mu Xueshi could not understand—why even a man like him, proud above all others, would fabricate such gentle lies.
…No matter.
He is still a man. I should understand him.
And besides… it will soon no longer concern me.
What mattered now was to cherish what little time remained—so that no moment would turn into regret.
“I want to go out and play for a day,” Mu Xueshi said, looking up at him.
The Third Prince lowered his gaze, meeting those clear, pleading eyes. It was difficult—almost impossible—to refuse such a face.
Yet after a moment’s thought, he shook his head.
“You have only just recovered. You need rest. We can speak of such things later.”
“No!” Mu Xueshi pouted. “You promised—after the Eight Homage Festival, you’d take me out once. If you won’t, I’ll go find my master instead!”
With that, he made as if to climb out of bed, stubbornness written across his face.
“You dare!”
The prince’s expression darkened instantly. His gaze sharpened, and the very air in the room seemed to freeze.
Of course, Mu Xueshi was afraid.
Had he not already accepted death, he would never have spoken so boldly.
Seeing his startled expression, the prince’s gaze softened slightly. He reached out to stroke his hair, though his tone remained firm:
“From now on, without my permission, you are not to go out with anyone. If you do, you will be punished.”
…From now on?
A trace of sorrow flickered in Mu Xueshi’s eyes, quickly hidden when he noticed the prince watching him.
The prince, feigning annoyance, pushed him back onto the bed and lay down beside him, pulling him into his arms.
“Close your eyes. Rest.”
This time, Mu Xueshi obeyed.
Lying there together like this… wasn’t so bad.
At least he could look at him properly—commit this face to memory forever.
Though the prince’s eyes were closed, he could feel that burning gaze upon him. It was not intentional, yet the depth of feeling led him to misunderstand.
His hand slipped beneath Mu Xueshi’s inner garments, gliding across smooth skin like silk.
Mu Xueshi’s breathing quickened. His gaze grew hazy, tinged with desire.
His youthful body bore the marks left behind—his already captivating face now flushed with a faint redness. Anyone who saw him would be unable to resist.
The silk cords of the canopy were drawn, enclosing them in a private world.
The prince’s kiss descended—domineering, consuming—his practiced skill swiftly erasing all reason.
…
When it was over, Mu Xueshi lay exhausted, drifting into unconsciousness.
After bathing, the prince carried him back to bed, coaxing him to rest.
Having not slept the entire night, he too felt fatigue creeping in. Holding Mu Xueshi in his arms, he found an unexpected peace—and soon closed his eyes.
Yet Mu Xueshi did not sleep.
Once the prince’s breathing steadied, he opened his eyes and gazed at him in silence.
Memories of what had just transpired rose within him—but the warmth they brought was drowned in bitterness.
In the future… that place beside him would belong to someone else.
Would he dress that person himself?
Would he lift him onto a horse… hold him close as he slept?
…
A tightness filled his chest. He shut his eyes quickly—but a single tear slipped free, trailing silently into his hair.
An hour passed. Daylight had fully broken.
Mu Xueshi glanced out the window, then turned back—only to find the Third Prince already awake.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, a faint smile playing at his lips.
Mu Xueshi nodded, a gentle smile on his face.
The sight eased the tension between the prince’s brows, even though he knew—it was a lie.
“I can ride a horse now,” Mu Xueshi declared proudly, standing by the stables. “So I don’t need to share one with you anymore.”
A faint smile curved the prince’s lips as he handed him the reins, watching with quiet amusement.
“Hmph!” Mu Xueshi snorted, lifting his chin in mock disdain.
With a nimble motion, he leapt onto the horse, shot the prince a challenging glance, and cracked the whip.
In the next instant—
Two steeds surged forward, racing into the distance.
Futile Devices Scans 
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