A grand palanquin of purple and gold descended slowly before the courtyard gates. The Third Prince stepped out, his gaze dark and razor-sharp as it swept across his surroundings.
Everything appeared calm once more.
Only the occasional wisp of smoke lingered in the air—the last mournful traces of the thatched huts of Linhan Palace, burned but not yet fully scattered.
And yet—
Something was wrong.
The deeper he went, the more a suffocating sense of danger pressed upon him. Instinctively, the first name that surfaced in his mind was Mu Xueshi, and his pace quickened.
The guards at the gates of Qingyun Palace stood unharmed, though their expressions were strained.
He had specifically ordered Su Ruhan to remain and guard Mu Xueshi.
And yet—Su Ruhan was nowhere to be seen.
A faint crease formed between the Third Prince’s brows. For the briefest moment, tension flickered across his otherwise impassive face.
He pushed the door open.
The figure on the bed lay unharmed.
Mu Xueshi rested on his side, back turned to the doorway, seemingly asleep.
The Third Prince stood there—
And, for a moment, forgot to move.
That silhouette… flawless as ever. Even from behind, it was enough to soothe the eye and stir the heart.
But what held him captive was not beauty—
It was familiarity.
Only that back view—unchanged from days past—could still awaken something within him.
He dared not speak.
He feared that if the man turned around, he would see only the same cold indifference mirrored back at him.
Worse—
He feared that even if he called out, the figure on the bed would not turn at all.
Warmth approached from behind.
Mu Xueshi had long since counted every step the Third Prince took in his mind—yet he had never expected this outcome.
The betrayal of body and heart left him feeling like nothing more than a hollow shell.
A man who could not even control his own body.
His heart was frozen into an unyielding glacier—
Yet his body still remembered warmth.
“You used to bury yourself in my arms,” the Third Prince said softly. “Whenever you did something wrong, you would cling to me like a child.”
Used to…?
How long ago was that?
For a fleeting moment, Mu Xueshi found the voice strangely familiar.
Long ago—
There had been another man who spoke the same words.
A man of peerless beauty, who smiled only for him.
That man had hidden him away for a lifetime—until another discovered them.
Burdened by guilt for a child he had once abandoned, that man allowed everything to spiral out of control—
And in the end, fled.
A single cold tear slipped from Mu Xueshi’s throat, sinking into his chest.
In this life—
He had only one family.
One lover.
And they had been the same person.
“Do you remember the time you were afflicted with Gu poison?” the Third Prince continued, his fingers tracing lightly along Mu Xueshi’s cheek, almost playfully.
“I injured myself to save you… and yet you did it for another.”
No answer came.
Still, he went on.
“Do you remember when the Yinglan flowers bloom?”
“Do you remember what it was you were waiting for?”
“Do you remember the name of the horse I gave you?”
“Do you remember how, just the night before… you swore you would never betray me?”
“…”
His voice, cool and steady, flowed through the warm chamber—
Like a silent blade.
Piercing a heart long resigned to loneliness.
The Third Prince gazed at the man before him, arms tightening around him from behind—
Tighter—
And tighter still—
Until even his own heart seemed strangled into numbness.
At last, his strength gave way.
As though hollowed out from within, he loosened his hold.
“I can wait for you…”
His voice was low.
“But do not make me wait too long.”
Once more, the door opened and closed behind him.
Mu Xueshi could no longer remember how many times this scene had repeated in a single day.
Aside from that first act of force—
The Third Prince would only speak of things that seemed to belong to another world…
And then leave, his back heavy with unspoken sorrow.
Linhan Palace had become nothing but ruins.
Standing amidst the wreckage, the Third Prince watched fine dust drift past the hem of his robes. A killing intent flickered faintly in his eyes.
His gaze was drawn, almost against his will, toward the low grave.
Amid total destruction—
It alone remained untouched.
The soil beneath his feet was loose.
He crouched and examined it carefully.
This was no fallen debris, nor disturbed surface earth—
It had been turned over from below.
His eyes darkened.
Such profound inner force… beyond imagination.
“Your Highness…”
Su Ruhan’s voice sounded from behind him.
The Third Prince turned slowly, fixing him with a long, unblinking stare.
Only after a long silence did he speak.
“What happened here?”
Su Ruhan answered truthfully, “While Your Highness was at Taihe Hall, several hundred elite soldiers from Lubei destroyed Linhan Palace. As for what followed… I do not know. For a brief moment, I lost all my inner strength, as though it vanished entirely—then it slowly returned. By the time I arrived, everything appeared normal… but those soldiers had disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” the Third Prince repeated.
“As though they had never been here.”
“Did you see anyone else?” the Third Prince asked, his gaze sharp.
Su Ruhan shook his head. “It felt as though someone was present… but there was no one.”
The Third Prince walked slowly toward the grave.
It was not difficult to see—
It had been opened.
Could it be that hundreds of men had been buried within it in an instant?
Who would dare?
And who would possess such power?
“Your Highness… regarding today…”
The Third Prince turned.
Su Ruhan had already dropped to his knees.
His expression remained resolute—but tinged with guilt.
“Speak.”
“I should not have left Xueshi alone in the chambers.”
“You expended a great deal of inner strength to protect him in secret, did you not?” the Third Prince replied.
Su Ruhan was taken aback.
Back then, merely glimpsing Mu Xueshi’s true appearance had been enough to earn him banishment.
What he had done now—
Would not be atoned for even in death.
He had already prepared himself for punishment.
Yet—
The Third Prince only gestured for him to rise.
“Why did you come to Linhan Palace?” he asked calmly.
Su Ruhan lowered his voice. “I did not wish for the only place I could call my own… to be destroyed.”
A lie.
Both of them knew it.
If that had been his intent, he would have come sooner—not after everything had already ended.
Su Ruhan met the Third Prince’s gaze without fear.
There was even a trace of relief in his eyes.
“Come back with me,” the Third Prince said.
Su Ruhan lifted his head.
Only then did he realize it had begun to rain.
The drops were light, cool against his skin.
Ahead, the Third Prince had already begun walking away.
But Su Ruhan remained kneeling, stunned.
“…Why?” he murmured to the empty air.
The answer came, carried softly through the rain.
“I need someone… to share the pain of being forgotten.”
Within Qingyuan Hall, music and dance filled the air.
Unlike before, the performers this time were all young men—playing instruments, singing, wielding swords, even dancing with deliberate allure.
Emperor Hao Lin sat at the center.
Shang Chuanhong knelt beside him, his gaze fixed on the stage.
The boys were delicate, beautiful, red-lipped and fair-toothed.
Outwardly, he appeared engaged.
In truth, he was utterly bored.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “why ask me to choose? Would it not be better for you to decide for yourself?”
Hao Lin did not answer.
Instead, he smiled faintly and turned toward the Emperor.
“It is said that Yunxi is abundant in beautiful men. Today, I have seen it for myself.”
The Emperor smiled knowingly.
“Then Emperor Hao Lin should choose carefully. These youths were selected from among the common folk—each one a virgin of exceptional beauty. Whether for companionship or to bring back to Lubei… the choice is yours.”
“How generous,” Hao Lin said with a wicked smile. “And how many would Your Majesty be willing to part with?”
The Emperor’s expression stiffened—though his smile remained.
Hao Lin’s reputation for excess was well known.
If he demanded thousands, who could refuse?
Yet such youths were not easily gathered.
To avoid public outrage, the court selected only from the destitute and homeless, choosing the most beautiful among them through layers of scrutiny.
“Emperor Hao Lin jests,” the Emperor replied smoothly. “Of all these, how many could truly catch your eye?”
Hao Lin laughed and drained his wine.
A sharp gleam flashed in his narrow eyes, lending an almost ethereal brilliance to his already striking features.
Below, several youths flushed with nervous excitement, their movements awkwardly enticing.
But Hao Lin turned instead to Shang Chuanhong.
“Well? Have you chosen, Prime Minister?”
Shang Chuanhong repeated quietly, “Why must I be the one to select them?”
Hao Lin chuckled, his gaze laced with meaning.
“Because only what can still catch your eye… can truly be called exceptional.”
His voice was soft—
Yet it struck deep.
“Your Majesty—General Xiao requests an audience.”
The announcement cut through the revelry.
The Emperor’s expression shifted.
So soon after court adjournment—
It must be urgent.
He raised a hand, signaling the eunuch at his side to inquire further.
Futile Devices Scans 
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