The Third Prince gazed at those tightly closed lips, at those beautiful eyes now still as lifeless water—and felt something warm within him being devoured, inch by inch.
He had forgotten.
Forgotten everything from those past two months.
It was as though time had been rewound—returning to the days before it all began. The one who had once lost both memory and temperament had now returned to his side once more. Those fleeting months, like a dream, had passed in a blink. Just as he had ceased hoping for Mu Xueshi to return to his former self—just as he had begun to fear that very possibility—
Mu Xueshi had done exactly that.
The game had gone astray from the very beginning. When it had nearly reached its end under an entirely different set of rules, it had, by some cruel twist of fate, been dragged back to its starting point.
The player had already become ensnared.
Yet all that remained was smoke and illusion.
No… I will not allow this…
The prince’s eyes burned crimson as he stared at Mu Xueshi.
No one in this world has ever dared toy with me so.
If this feeling has already carved itself into my bones—then everything you cast aside, I will return to you, inch by inch, until it seeps into your very blood.
With a sudden motion, he shoved Mu Xueshi down onto the bed.
The pale under-robe slipped loosely from his shoulders. With a mere flick of the prince’s fingers, smooth, flawless skin was revealed.
Their gazes met—
One cold as frost.
One blazing with something far darker.
The prince lowered his eyes, forcing himself to ignore that unfamiliar gaze, letting them rest instead upon those soft, crimson lips.
After all that had happened, they seemed even more vivid—almost intoxicating.
For a brief moment, he stilled.
Then he leaned down and claimed them.
Mu Xueshi clenched his teeth at first.
He had expected revulsion—yet none came.
The contradiction stunned him.
His heart recoiled in disgust—
Yet his body did not resist.
That moment of confusion was enough.
His lips parted.
And the prince deepened the kiss.
At the faint softening in Mu Xueshi’s gaze, something stirred within the prince.
The violence in his movements gradually eased.
The hand gripping his waist loosened, becoming almost… gentle.
The kiss lingered, unhurried—exploring, tasting, seeking.
So familiar.
So dangerously familiar.
The prince watched Mu Xueshi’s eyes, a trace of cunning flashing through his own.
No matter how you change… you are still Mu Xueshi.
The one I take… has always been you.
His hands wandered.
The last of Mu Xueshi’s garments fell away.
A tremor ran through that body—an involuntary response, betraying its own sensitivity.
Mu Xueshi froze.
Why…?
A chill crept into his heart.
The prince’s touch lingered at his thigh, and for the first time, that fragile composure faltered.
Fear seeped in.
When Mu Xueshi suddenly grasped his arm, the prince let out a low chuckle.
Leaning close to his ear, his voice was soft—dangerously so.
“Already overwhelmed…?”
The words carried both mockery and temptation.
Mu Xueshi forced his mind back from the brink. Turning his head, he looked at the man before him—lingering for a fleeting moment upon that equally striking face.
Then, coldly—
“Disgusting.”
The prince did not grow angry.
Instead, he pressed Mu Xueshi’s resisting hands down, pinning them above his head, his movements slow, deliberate.
Everything that followed was unhurried—controlled.
Yet beneath that restraint lay something far more oppressive.
Mu Xueshi’s composure began to fracture.
A sound escaped him before he could stop it.
The prince’s gaze darkened with fascination, though his words remained teasing.
“Why pretend restraint…? Have you not cried out beneath me before?”
Those words—
Struck like ice.
Shame flooded through Mu Xueshi, freezing his heart solid.
What followed carried none of the earlier brutality—only a deceptive gentleness.
Careful.
Measured.
Almost… attentive.
As though he were something precious.
Gradually, Mu Xueshi’s body responded.
Familiar.
Instinctive.
As though it remembered what his mind refused to.
The prince looked into his eyes.
And felt something within him shatter.
Those eyes—
Were empty.
Not cold.
Not resistant.
Simply… devoid of life.
Everything before him—the expressions, the reactions—
Were nothing more than hollow echoes.
In that moment, he understood—
This resistance, this indifference—
Was the cruelest form of defiance.
And the one who had lost—
Was himself.
When it ended, the prince withdrew without a word, calmly dressing himself.
He stood beside the bed, gaze turned outward.
“What is my name?”
The question seemed almost meant for himself.
Mu Xueshi did not move.
Did not answer.
Like a discarded puppet, left where it lay—unchanged, unmoving, forever fixed in that same expression.
The prince waited.
Though he knew no answer would come.
At last, he turned and left.
Outside, his gaze swept across the courtyard before settling on a figure in the distance.
“Sun Ye.”
The man hurried forward and bowed.
“Your Highness.”
“Go to Shaman Valley. Seek Elder Duan. I want a remedy—something that can force a man to remember his past.”
“Yes.”
Though his expression remained calm, confusion churned within him.
Such a medicine… did it truly exist?
And if it did—
Would forcing someone to remember not also force them to relive all their pain?
As he departed, he cast a glance at the tall grass nearby.
The wind stirred it gently.
Untouched.
That troublesome presence… had not appeared in days.
A faint irritation crossed his face before he vanished into the night.
One man rushed out of the palace.
Another hurried in.
By the time Su Ruhan arrived at the rear mountain, the Third Prince had already been standing there for some time.
The summer night was alive with sound—yet the air was cold.
“How is Xueshi?” Su Ruhan asked without preamble.
The prince heard the urgency in his voice.
A complicated emotion stirred within him.
He did not wish for others to care about Mu Xueshi—
Yet at the same time, there was a strange comfort in being understood.
“He has forgotten me.”
Su Ruhan frowned.
“Forgotten? How could he—? Is it like before?”
“No.”
The prince cut him off sharply.
“He has only lost the past two months.”
Understanding dawned slowly.
“You mean… he has returned to how he was before—and forgotten everything that happened since?”
Those words struck like another blow.
The prince no longer concealed anything.
All his pride, his detachment—
Gone.
Only anger, grief, and unwillingness remained.
“Yes.”
“He has forgotten everything. What he said to me. What he did for me.”
“He has forgotten how to smile at me.”
“How to beg me.”
“…He does not even remember my name.”
The moment those words fell—
The surrounding trees shattered.
The sword in his hand trembled.
His fury burned unchecked.
Su Ruhan stood frozen.
Never had he seen the prince like this—
So raw.
So human.
All these years, he had seemed untouchable.
Only now did he realize—
He had always been alone.
The rage faded.
Leaving only boundless sorrow.
“I gave up Linhan Palace for him…”
“And this is how he repays me.”
The sword struck the ground.
Blood spilled from the prince’s lips.
Su Ruhan rushed forward—but was halted by the blade.
He understood then—
This was no passing attachment.
This ran too deep.
Perhaps no outsider could truly comprehend it.
They had not faced great storms together—
And yet, they had been undone by something far smaller.
Warmer.
More fragile.
“Your Highness,” Su Ruhan said carefully, “perhaps all is not lost.”
“If he once lost his memories and later recovered them, then there is hope he may recover again.”
“Give it time.”
“He is already unstable. Further provocation may only worsen matters.”
The prince fell silent.
Considering.
At length, he spoke quietly:
“Perhaps you are right…”
“But how long must I wait?”
His voice was steady—
Yet beneath it, unrest lingered.
He could not endure this.
Even the smallest sign—
Would suffice.
So long as he could believe—
That what he had lost
Was only memory—
And not the man himself.
Futile Devices Scans 
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