“Where to?” the Third Prince asked.
Seizing the chance, Mu Xueshi tugged lightly at the reins, slowing his horse at once. He had ridden the entire way in forced bravado, heart pounding in his chest, afraid he might be thrown at any moment.
After steadying his breath, he turned and glanced at the prince, then said deliberately, “To see the lanterns…”
“The lantern festival was only yesterday,” the Third Prince replied calmly.
“I like lantern festivals too…” Mu Xueshi said, almost petulantly.
The prince understood at once—but what puzzled him was how Mu Xueshi had learned that he had watched the lanterns with Princess Wenyang the night before.
“Very well. Tomorrow night, I shall have the entire imperial city hung with lanterns again—”
“No, no!” Mu Xueshi waved his hands hastily. “I was only joking. Please don’t trouble others for it…”
More importantly… by tomorrow night, I may no longer be here.
If you hang lanterns for him… would that not only benefit someone else?
As they rode and spoke, they soon arrived at a crossroads. The capital of Saya was divided into five great avenues—each bustling, yet unconnected to the others. Only at one point did they converge into a single grand road leading straight to the imperial palace.
“Why have I never noticed so many crossroads before?” Mu Xueshi asked curiously.
“Because we always traveled the official route,” the prince replied. “That road is reserved for court officials.”
Mu Xueshi pouted, muttering in dissatisfaction, “Then are they connected in the middle? If I grow tired of one street, can I turn directly into another?”
“No,” the prince answered seriously. “You must either return the way you came or proceed to the end.”
“What a foolish design!” Mu Xueshi clicked his tongue. These architects are truly lacking sense.
“There is meaning behind it,” the prince said. “The five streets resemble an open hand—symbolizing that the emperor holds all under heaven within his grasp.”
Only then did Mu Xueshi realize just how rigid and archaic this place was. Still… it no longer had much to do with him. He could only sigh inwardly.
In the end, he chose the liveliest street. They tethered their horses before an inn and wandered from one end of the street to the other.
Too short to squeeze through the crowds, Mu Xueshi had the prince carry him up onto a rooftop to watch street performances. He gambled dice with rogues and lost every coin in his sleeve. He went hunting, watched cricket fights, attended plays, listened to music…
Everything that interested him—and even what did not—he tried once.
Everything, that is, except the brothel. The mere sight of it made him shiver.
As dusk approached, his excitement had yet to fade.
A faint ache stirred in the prince’s heart. Mu Xueshi had rarely been allowed outside since childhood. After entering the courtyard, he had remained by the prince’s side, seldom venturing out.
He must have been stifled for far too long.
“I’ll take you somewhere,” the prince said.
“Where?” Mu Xueshi’s eyes lit up.
The prince did not answer. Instead, he mounted his horse, then, before Mu Xueshi could climb onto his own, leaned down and pulled him up in one swift motion, urging the horse into a gallop.
Along the way, Mu Xueshi’s heart was torn between joy and sorrow.
Sorrow—that these fleeting days would soon become memories.
Joy—that at least, no regrets remained.
The horse slowed upon a stretch of grassland. The sky had already deepened into ink-wash hues, and ahead lay a shimmering lake.
The prince dismounted and carefully helped Mu Xueshi down.
Hand in hand, they walked toward the water. The gentle sound of flowing water reached his ears.
Then—he saw it.
Countless fireflies hovered above the lake, flickering like stars fallen to earth. A single glow was faint, but together, they formed a breathtaking, dreamlike spectacle.
The prince drew him down to sit.
In such stillness, Mu Xueshi could not bear to speak. He leaned quietly into the prince’s embrace, watching the distant lights.
“This is where I first saw you,” the prince said softly. “I was seated in a carriage. You were playing in the water… The people here say that once, there were no fireflies. Until one day, a celestial maiden descended and lost her way. The fireflies gathered here to light her path…”
“How fortunate… that celestial maiden,” Mu Xueshi murmured, a faint ache tightening in his chest.
He knew exactly whom the prince spoke of.
He only pretended ignorance—afraid of what might follow. Afraid of hearing that from that moment, the prince had fallen in love.
And that person… was not him.
“I want to go to the Grand Tutor’s manor,” Mu Xueshi suddenly said, lifting his gaze, eyes bright.
The prince nodded and brought him back onto the horse.
“Have we ever been there before?” Mu Xueshi asked cautiously.
The prince shook his head. “Only once, to investigate a case.”
“…That’s good,” Mu Xueshi murmured.
Then that place… belongs only to you and me.
Beneath the twin trees, Mu Xueshi circled them like a child, touching the bark, a trace of sorrow flashing in his eyes.
“Let’s sit here,” he said.
Just then, he noticed the prince hanging something on the tree.
Drawing closer, he realized—it was a lantern.
“Where did that come from?” he asked in surprise.
“The fireflies wove it for you,” the prince replied calmly.
“Please—do you take me for a child?” Mu Xueshi scoffed. “I’m not that easily charmed.”
The prince smiled faintly, his gaze deep and irresistible.
“I chose it for you on the street yesterday.”
Mu Xueshi was about to snort again—until he saw the lantern clearly.
There was only one adornment upon it: two bold, flowing characters.
Xue Shi.
He recognized the prince’s hand at once.
His nose stung.
So even last night… he had thought of him.
As soon as the lantern was hung, a sudden sob broke the stillness.
The prince turned in alarm—only to find Mu Xueshi sitting beneath the tree, weeping uncontrollably.
His heart tightened.
He strode over, knelt, and asked sternly, “What is wrong?”
“Nothing… I’m just… too happy…” Mu Xueshi choked, wiping his tears.
The prince clearly did not believe him.
“Why are you so strange today?” he pressed, wiping away his tears without gentleness.
“Not really…” Mu Xueshi forced himself to stop crying, putting on a casual face. “I just get sentimental sometimes—especially under moonlight.”
…
The prince did not pursue the matter further. He sat beside him and drew him gently into his arms.
In the quiet depths of the garden, beneath the towering twin trees, the two leaned against one another. Beside them, a single lantern glowed softly—bearing one man’s name.
Mu Xueshi glanced at it.
He knew—it belonged to him.
Then… when that light goes out, let everything end.
The silver coin lay clenched in his palm.
How he wished he could forget the incantation—but every syllable remained painfully clear.
He dared not even think of it, fearing it might slip from his lips and rob him of these final moments.
Time passed, second by second.
For the first time, he truly understood what it meant to await death.
Death itself was not frightening—what frightened him was the hopelessness as it drew near.
I never went to see Master one last time… he thought, eyes closed.
Suddenly, the prince’s voice broke the silence.
“Mu Xueshi—if one day you betray me, I will make you wish for death.”
Mu Xueshi, who had thought himself beyond tears, felt them surge anew.
I’m sorry… I cannot tell you the truth.
I do not wish to see hatred in your eyes before I leave.
That way… when I remember this in the future, I can still pretend—
that you loved not only Mu Xueshi, but also the time that once belonged to me.
He wept soundlessly, anguish consuming him.
The man holding him did not even know his true name.
Everything he cherished would become nothing more than a fleeting memory in another’s life.
Even this lantern—he could not take it with him.
He could only watch as it dimmed, little by little, taking everything with it.
“Xi… when the lantern goes out, take me back to the palace.”
The prince said nothing.
But his silence was assent.
All through the night, Mu Xueshi did not sleep.
Nor did he speak.
He simply leaned against the prince, letting him stroke his hair.
The lantern’s light grew dimmer and dimmer.
His breath caught.
He turned to look at the prince—who seemed to have fallen asleep, though the arm around him remained firm.
A gust of wind stirred.
The lantern swayed.
And then—
The light went out.
His heart turned to ash.
He opened his palm. The grooves of the silver coin had bitten deep into his skin.
At that very moment, the prince felt a sudden sharp pain in his chest.
He opened his eyes and turned.
…Mu Xueshi was merely asleep.
Peaceful. Silent.
As though he were no longer the same person from moments before.
The prince lifted him into his arms and carried him back toward the horse.
Futile Devices Scans 
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