Futile Devices Scans

Mu Xueshi did not awaken until the sun had dipped low in the west.

His long, dark lashes trembled faintly as his eyes slowly opened.

It felt as though he had slept for an entire lifetime. When he finally woke, the light itself seemed unbearable. He shut his eyes again, then opened them once more—repeating this several times before he could properly take in his surroundings.

Where is this…?

His last memory lingered on the road to exile. Yet now, he lay upon a bed of rare comfort, within a chamber quiet and serene.

Though doubt stirred within him, Mu Xueshi did not turn his head, nor did his expression change in the slightest. As his thoughts gradually settled, he dismissed it all.

Another of the Third Prince’s tricks… why bother with the how or why?

“Young Master Xue, you’re awake. There is ginseng broth here—the Third Prince instructed that it be fed to you once you woke.”

Mu Xueshi lay stiff and unmoving, his face cold as frost. Not a flicker of response followed Qingya’s words.

Qingya’s expression changed instantly. She set the bowl aside and fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face like broken pearls.

“Young Master Xue, please drink a little… I know I said things before that displeased you, but you must not harm yourself over a servant’s faults. If you are angry, punish me—but do not neglect your health…”

“Yes… Young Master, this servant knows her wrongs…” Qingzhu followed, kneeling as well.

The Third Prince entered just then.

Before him lay the scene—two maids kneeling in tears, while the figure upon the bed remained utterly indifferent. The untouched bowl of steaming broth spoke volumes.

“Leave.”

The single word, cold as ice, sent both maids trembling. They hurriedly rose, bowed, and withdrew, anxiety plain upon their faces.

The prince’s expression softened as he lifted the bowl and walked toward the bed.

Mu Xueshi lay with eyes closed, showing no sign of reaction. Yet his breathing was steady—he was not asleep, merely resting.

“Xueshi,” the prince said, voice low, “with whom are you sulking? Whatever it is, drink the broth first.”

To Mu Xueshi, the words carried command—but beneath it, a trace of indulgence and concern lingered.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

The Third Prince was already seated beside him, gently blowing upon the steaming broth.

As the prince reached to help him sit, Mu Xueshi’s gaze turned cold, unmistakably resistant.

The prince’s hand halted midair.

The softness in his eyes faded, replaced by something far more complex—suspicion, unease.

That expression… unfamiliar, yet eerily familiar. As though something buried deep within his memory had been unearthed, stirring an inexplicable dread.

The next moment, the prince’s expression shifted once more. He placed a hand upon Mu Xueshi’s forehead, his tone gentle—yet edged with danger.

“Are you being willful?”

Willful? Mu Xueshi sneered inwardly. So soon, I have become nothing more than a pet…

He gave no answer, closing his eyes again.

Recalling Mu Xueshi’s strange behavior in recent days, the prince wondered if he might fall into unconsciousness again. Yet the moment his hand neared, Mu Xueshi’s eyes snapped open—cold, sharp, filled with bone-deep frost.

The prince’s heart tightened.

This was no jest.

Had it been before, Mu Xueshi would have laughed or made light of it the moment his temper darkened.

“Sit up,” the prince commanded softly. “Drink it.”

No response.

The prince’s voice dropped further. “Up.”

Still—no movement.

In a single stride, he seized Mu Xueshi by the collar and dragged him upright. A violent gleam flickered in his eyes.

“If this jest does not end now—you know the consequences.”

Mu Xueshi remained limp in his grasp, like a puppet without life.

The prince’s hand tightened around his throat. He lifted the bowl and forced the broth into his mouth.

It spilled across Mu Xueshi’s chin and collar as he choked violently, coughing until breath failed him.

A flicker of awareness returned to the prince. He reached out, patting Mu Xueshi’s back with rare gentleness.

Yet the discomfort on Mu Xueshi’s face vanished almost instantly—no more than a reflex of the body.

The prince stilled.

Slowly, he reached up—and tore away the thin veil.

A face of peerless beauty was revealed.

It was still him.

The same features. The same warmth beneath his touch.

And yet… something had changed.

A cold brilliance now lingered upon that face—distant, untouchable.

The prince’s heart clenched.

No one could have spirited him away from such a heavily guarded courtyard.

Has his temperament changed again…?

A low, humorless laugh escaped him.

He had no patience to play such games again.

“What is my name?” he asked.

Silence.

The prince leaned closer, until their foreheads nearly touched.

“What do you call me?”

Still—nothing.

Once more, he asked:

“What is my name?”

A sudden crash shook the chamber.

The windows rattled; birds scattered in fright. Outside, servants turned pale, scarcely daring to breathe.

Within the room, all ornaments—jade, porcelain—shattered in an instant.

Only the trivial trinkets Mu Xueshi once played with remained intact.

The prince’s gaze burned with bloodthirst as he stared at him like a predator eyeing prey.

“Smile,” he ordered, gripping Mu Xueshi’s chin.

There was indeed a trace of a smile in Mu Xueshi’s eyes—

But it was not warmth.

It was distant. Detached. Almost mocking.

The prince’s grip tightened.

“Smile. And call my name.”

Whatever restraint remained in him shattered.

A cruel smile curved his lips as he tore away Mu Xueshi’s garments.

That flawless body lay exposed—marked still with the traces of yesterday’s tenderness.

Beg…

Beg me. Cry. Say you were only jesting…

Mu Xueshi—I told you. If you ever betray me, I will make you wish for death.

He no longer held back.

The storm that followed was harsh, merciless—devoid of the gentleness it once held.

A muffled sound escaped Mu Xueshi’s lips, but he clenched his teeth, refusing even that.

Scarlet spread across the bedding like a blossoming flower—striking, terrible.

The prince moved like a beast, his eyes cold as ice.

Beneath that fury lay something deeper—

Fear.

Desolation.

He did not dare to consider the truth.

Whether this was another’s scheme, or merely a moment’s change—

All he knew was that something had been torn from him, leaving him hollow.

Suddenly, the body beneath him slackened.

The prince froze, then collapsed forward.

Mu Xueshi had fallen unconscious once more.

As if awakening from a nightmare, the prince called for the imperial physician, then drew him into his arms.

In sleep, Mu Xueshi no longer resisted.

Though the sweetness he remembered was gone, so too was that chilling distance.

The prince’s breathing gradually steadied.

The earlier frenzy gave way to guilt.

Perhaps… Mu Xueshi had merely been slow to wake.

Or had resisted out of wounded pride.

He refused to dwell on that gaze.

Refused to recall that, for years before, Mu Xueshi had always been like this—aloof, distant.

It was only in recent months, after losing his memory, that he had changed.

Perhaps… there had never been anything wrong now.

Only before.

A creeping chill spread through the prince’s fingers, climbing up his arm, into his heart.

Even when Physician Li announced his arrival, the prince merely barked—

“Get out.”

Then, suddenly, he remembered.

He seized Mu Xueshi’s hand.

Empty.

He searched the bed, the chamber—every place Mu Xueshi might have touched.

The silver coin was gone.

Why did it matter now?

And yet—

It felt as though something had been lost.

Something irreplaceable.

After tending to Mu Xueshi’s wounds and replacing his veil, the prince mounted his horse and rode out.

Through the dappled shadows of trees, his figure cut a lonely path.

He returned to the twin trees.

No one was there.

Only the lantern remained, hanging from a branch—lonely, like a forsaken child.

Beneath the tree lay nothing but withered leaves and tangled grass.

The prince looked up at the lantern—

And froze.

The ink upon it had blurred, as though washed away by unseen tears.

Yet the paper was dry.

Only the name had faded.

His heart clenched violently.

For a fleeting instant, he saw a vision—

Mu Xueshi, seated beneath the tree, clutching the lantern, weeping until his eyes were red.

He stepped forward—

And the vision vanished.

Only the extinguished lantern remained.

And upon it—

A name no longer clear.

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