The next morning, the Eastern Palace stirred before the sun had fully risen.

The steam softly engulfed through the chamber, thick with the scent of sandalwood and medicinal herbs. Droplets of water slid down Wu Yingyue's skin as he stepped out from the bath, his long, dark hair damp and clinging to his back.

The silk of his inner robe, loosely draped over his shoulders, did little to hide the network of scars carved across his pale skin. Some were thin, deliberate like the work of assassins, some stripes across his back like whip, a jagged wound stretched over his thigh.

The deepest scar was the one that ran from his left shoulder down to his waist.

But nothing hurts more than the thin line on his wrist.

He let maids wipe his hair and drape him in comfortable clothes. Once dressed, he dismissed them with a flick of his fingers.

"Your Highness," Guang Ze's voice came from behind him.

"What is it?"

"The situation at the border of the capital... The refugees are increasing in number. More have arrived overnight, and the officials are struggling to provide enough food and shelter."

"How many?"

"Yesterday, there were already several hundred. By dawn, another two hundred arrived. They fled from the northern provinces. This winter has been merciless on them."

Wu Yingyue sighed and then asked, "And the court's response?"

"The ministers believe it is not the palace's concern. They claim it is a matter for the local governors to handle."

A soft, humorless chuckle escaped Wu Yingyue's lips. "Of course they do."

"How much remains in the Ministry of Revenue's reserves?"

"Enough to sustain them for the next two weeks, but at this rate, the numbers will only keep growing."

Wu Yingyue's eyes darkened. "Some provinces have hit hard this year."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Summon the Minister of Revenue," he said finally. "And tell the granaries to prepare for redistribution."

Guang Ze hesitated only for a second before bowing deeply. "Yes, Your Highness."

Wu Yingyue lowered his gaze, absently tracing the embroidered patterns on his sleeve.

"The worst-hit are Beiyuan and Lingzhou. The heavy snowfall weakened the mountainsides, slowing rescue efforts. The survivors have no shelter, little food. If nothing is done soon..."

He exhaled, the weight setting over him.

"...they won't last the winter."

A hurried knock on the chamber doors broke the silence.

Wu Yingyue barely lifted his gaze. "Enter."

A young servant stepped inside, bowing deeply. "Your Highness, Duke Zhou requests an audience."

Wu Yingyue's fingers, which had been tracing the embroidery on his sleeve, paused.

Zhou Wangshu?

His gaze flickered toward the mist-covered windows.

Why had Zhou Wangshu come to see him so early?

"Let him in."

The servant bowed again before retreating.

The doors opened.

The cold morning air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of frost, steel, and something unmistakable,

Blood,

Wu YingYue narrowed his eyes.

Zhou Wangshu stepped inside.

Wu Yingyue's lips curved into a slow smile. "A-Shu."

Zhou Wangshu did not immediately respond, instead sat in front of him.

"You're injured," Wu Yingyue observed his blood shot eyes. "Did you come straight from slaughtering bandits?"

He didn't wait for Zhou Wangshu's response before continuing, "Crime must be at its peak now—people have nothing to eat."

Then, just as effortlessly, he poured warm water into a cup and set it beside Zhou Wangshu, the steam curling into the cold air.

"There was an ambush outside the southern district," Zhou Wangshu replied. "They weren't just bandits. Half-starved men armed with whatever they could find. They attacked a supply transport bound for the granaries."

Wu Yingyue frowned. "Desperate men," he murmured.

"Desperation breeds recklessness."

"If this continues, it won't just be bandits attacking supply lines. It will be an uprising." Wu Yingyue let out a quiet chuckle. "And what does His Majesty plan to do about it? Tell me, is that why you went to His Majesty yesterday?"

"He wants the Tiger Tally.(1)"

For a moment, the room fell deathly silent.

Wu Yingyue's expression froze. The faint smile vanished,

His fingers curled into a tight fist against his lap.

"What? No. Absolutely not!"

The chair scraped against the floor as he shot to his feet, the force of his movement rattling the porcelain cup on the table.

"Are you out of your mind, A-Shu? Do you think I'll just stand by and let you hand over the Tiger Tally!?"

His heartbeat was hammering against his ribs, his vision red at the edge. "I will speak to His Majesty myself."

Wu Yingyue barely took a step before a firm arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in a embrace. A gasp escaped his lips.

"Hey... it's okay," Zhou Wangshu murmured in his ears, "But can I stay like this for a moment?"

Wu Yingyue stiffened, his mind struggling to keep up with the sudden shift.

"What are you doing!?" he mumbled. "Weren't you—yesterday, you..." 

The words crumbled, lost somewhere between his lips as he felt warmth pressing against his back. A faint flush crept up his pale cheeks.

Zhou Wangshu exhaled, a quiet, tired sound. "His Majesty will most likely kill me after this," he said, too steady, too calm. "So just for now... let me stay by your side."

"It's my fault,"

Yes, it was his fault from the very beginning. From the moment he reached out when he should have stayed away. From the moment he let Zhou Wangshu step onto this bloodstained chessboard, knowing there was no escape.

He should have never let him get involved. Never let him care.

Never let himself love him.

...Or at the very least, he should have killed that love before it could take root.

But he had been greedy.

Greedy for the warmth of Zhou Wangshu's presence, for the way his name sounded on his lips.

"I want to sleep," Zhou Wangshu muttered, his voice quieter now, exhaustion dragging him as he collapsed against Wu Yingyue, nearly knocking him off balance.

Wu Yingyue let out a breath, steadying them both. "Are you planning to use me as a pillow now?" he murmured, a hint of dry amusement in his tone.

Zhou Wangshu huffed, barely lifting his head. "Too late. Already am."

"But I have a meeting with—"

"A-Ying."

Wu Yingyue's breath hitched at the name, he lowered his gaze as something flashed in his eyes.

"...Fine"

Wu Yingyue turned away first, his fingers tightening around the folds of his sleeve before releasing them. Without another word, he led Zhou Wangshu toward his private chamber.

The morning light barely filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. As soon as they entered, Wu Yingyue pulled the thick blankets aside, but as soon as he turned around.

Zhou Wangshu had leaned forward, resting his forehead against the nape of his neck. His breath was slow, featherlight against his skin.

Wu Yingyue froze.

"Not again!" He huffed, forcing a scoff to mask the way his heartbeat stuttered. "You're heavier than I remember!"

Zhou Wangshu let out a sleepy hum, his words slurred with exhaustion. "You're skinnier than I remember."

Wu Yingyue clicked his tongue but made no move to pull away. Instead, with careful hands, he guided Zhou Wangshu onto the bed.

Zhou Wangshu barely resisted, sinking into the mattress with a quiet sigh.

Wu Yingyue watched him for a moment, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion between his brows. 

Without thinking, he reached out, smoothing his fingers over Zhou Wangshu's forehead, brushing back stray strands of hair.

"Rest, A-Shu,"

Zhou Wangshu's lips curved faintly, his eyes already closed.

"...Stay?"

Wu Yingyue paused.

Just for a moment.

He laid down beside him, staring at the ceiling. Neither of them spoke again.

Outside, the winter wind howled, but inside, it was quiet.

It might be because he hadn't slept the night before. As soon as he closed his eyes, exhaustion washed over him.

Wu Yingyue shifted slightly, tilting his head to glance at Zhou Wangshu. His breathing had Zhou Wangshu's breathing had already evened out, his features unguarded in slumber.

For a long time, Wu Yingyue simply watched him.

It was dangerous, this moment,

Almost made him believe they had time.

Wu Yingyue exhaled, closing his own eyes.

As the steady rhythm of breathing filled the quiet room, Zhou Wangshu slowly opened his eyes. The exhaustion from earlier had vanished, as if it had never existed in first place.

His glance at the figure beside him. Wu Yingyue had fallen asleep, his features serene yet guarded even in slumber. Only the frown between his eyebrows showed he was not as peaceful as he looks.

Zhou Wangshu exhaled softly,

If only things had been different, today would have been a lovely moment for them.

But it wasn't.

The warmth beside him should have been comforting, but it only burned.

Zhou Wangshu's fingers moved, a sudden urge washed over him the impulse to wrap his hands around Wu Yingyue's throat.

To strangle him. To tear him apart.

To take back the years, the trust, the love that had been nothing but a lie.

But he stopped.

He looked at Wu Yingyue, his hand still hovering in the air,

Back then...

The reason Wu Yingyue had been able to attack Wu Yiming was because he had fought with Wu Yiming first.

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought that everything was a scheme.

That every step, every misstep.

Was Planned,

Everything was Calculated.

That Wu Yingyue had orchestrated it all.

(1) Tiger Tally (虎符, Hǔfú), a military token in ancient China used to command troops. It was usually split into two halves—one held by the emperor and the other by the general in charge of the army. Only when the two halves were matched together could military orders be verified and executed.

Done with another chapter!!

Take care, Sweets!