Wu Yingyue's eyes fluttered open.

He looked at the ceiling of his bed illuminated by a few rays of afternoon sunlight casting an orange glow.

Then, instinctively, his hand reached out to the side.

Cold.

His fingers brushed against nothing but undisturbed sheets.

The emptiness hit harder than expected.

A voice broke the silence. "Your Highness, you're awake."

His gaze turned to Eunuch Guang ze standing at the door.

Wu Yingyue already knew. He didn't need to ask. But he did anyway.

"Zhou Wangshu left?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

A dry, humorless almost mocking laugh scraped from his throat.

Of course.

He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, willing himself to feel nothing. To be nothing.

His body moved before thought could catch up as if guided by instinct. Slowly, he rose from the bed, his movements unhurried, detached.

He turned toward the corner of the room, where his gaze fell upon the faint outline of something concealed beneath layers of silk and lacquered wood.

It was a hidden drawer that once belonged to childhood secrets, where he and Zhou Wangshu used to tuck away whatever they thought was precious- beautiful autumn leaves, strange, shaped rocks, jade gifted by pretty ladies in waiting.

As they grew, Zhou Wangshu visited his private chamber less and less and even stopped for a few years so as not to raise suspicion of the emperor and officials.

Even in these three years, when their nights blurred together, when they did everything friends should not do with each other,

Zhou Wangshu never truly stayed.

The room remained just like that a space but not a home. A place neither of them truly belonged to.

So, of course, Zhou Wangshu never found it.

Not until now.

His fingers found the hidden latch with ease.

The lid creaked open. Inside, nestled within the velvet-lined box, should have been a single piece of jade.

But it was gone.

Wu Yingyue's heart sank in his stomach.

His mind had already known this would happen, but his heart refused to accept it.

His fingers hovered over the empty space, trembling.

A tear slipped down his cheek before he even realized it.

It was over.

His breath became quicker as if the room closing in on him. "Your Highness!" Guang Ze ran inside the room to support him.

His chest tightened. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the wooden chest, knuckles turning white. The world swayed. His stomach churned.

"Old Ze... Old Ze, I lost him." He clung onto Guang Ze, his voice shaking with tremor.

"He knows everything now."

His vision blurred.

"He will never forgive me."

A violent shudder wracked his frame. He clutched at his chest, fingers curling into the fabric over his heart.

He staggered back as his legs weak beneath him.

"He—He will never—" The words caught between his gasping breaths. His throat felt tight, as if unseen hands were wrapping around it, squeezing.

Dark spots flickered at the edges of his vision.

A firm grip caught his shoulders. "Your Highness! Breathe! Look at me—just breathe."

But Wu Yingyue couldn't—he couldn't—

His nails dug into his palm, the sharp pain barely cutting through the haze.

A hand pressed against his back, rubbing circles. "Inhale. Slowly. Come on, Your Highness, focus on my voice."

Wu Yingyue gasped, his body shuddering violently.

His heartbeat pounded against his ribs like a drum, but gradually each inhale started to become a little easier.

The seconds stretched like eternity before his vision finally cleared.

Guang Ze was still kneeling before him, his expression grave, hands gripping Wu Yingyue's arms as if afraid he might disappear entirely.

"You're alright," he murmured. "You're still here."

Wu Yingyue let out a shuddering breath, his body slumped with exhaustion.

"He will never forgive me."

His grip tightened.

"He will never love me."

Under the glow of the afternoon sun, the snow on the empty branches shimmered like crushed pearls. Zhou Wangshu rode through the forest, his cloak billowing behind him, the sharp wind biting at his skin. A startled flock of birds took to the sky as his horse thundered past.

He didn't slow down.

Zhou Wangshu rode without direction, without thought, until the trees thinned, revealing a frozen lake ahead. The surface stretched wide and still, glazed with a fragile sheet of ice that cracked in places where the current still ran beneath. His horse slowed to a halt at the edge as he dismounted. The moment his boots touched the frosted ground, the suffocation in his chest grew heavier. His hands, numb from the cold, reached up to loosen his collar as if he could breathe easier that way. He stepped forward, crouching at the lake's edge where a patch of water remained unfrozen. The chill of it burned his skin as he cupped a handful, splashing it over his face.

For a moment, he let the silence settle around him. The water dripped from his chin, seeping into the high collar of his robes.

He looked down at the reflection of his face and his haggard and hollow eyes made him hiss.

A voice behind him shattered the stillness.

"So? Did you find out whether what I said was true?"

Zhou Wangshu didn't startle. He had already sensed someone approaching.

Seeing him remain silent, Wu Yiming did not press further. Instead, he simply stood behind Zhou Wangshu, waiting.

"You already knew, didn't you?" A muscle in Zhou Wangshu's jaw twitched as he asked.

"After being pushed into that violent river by my own brother it would be strange if I had not guessed it so far."

Three years ago, after finding it was Wu Yiming, as soon as his mourning period passed, he barged into the crown prince palace where Wu Yiming lived.

Initially, when they were children, he had given jade pendants to both Wu Yiming and Wu Yingyue, Wu Yiming who was still young and reckless, had cracked his within days, throwing it around in his usual fits of mischief. To prevent further trouble, Wu Yingyue had taken off his own jade and pressed it into Yiming's hands, forcing him to wear it at his waist so he wouldn't break another.

Wu Yiming was not wearing the jade.

Zhou Wangshu noticed it immediately.

When asked, Wu Yiming only laughed, waving it off with an easy shrug. "I lost it," he said, as if it were nothing. And then, with the same careless tone, he added, "Besides, after my arm got injured while hunting, I didn't even notice it was gone."

Zhou Wangshu had been young and impulsive, but not a fool. He did not accuse Wu Yiming on instinct. Instead, he searched. Traced his whereabouts.

And what he found was this, on that night, Wu Yiming had not been in his own quarters. He had been at Wu Yingyue's palace.

When Zhou Wangshu confronted Wu Yingyue admitted, "Yes, he came, But he left shortly after."

On that day He had nowhere to place the storm of emotions crashing within him—grief, betrayal, suspicion, helplessness.

For the first time in his life, he fought Wu Yiming.

He didn't raise his hand but after that incident, all officials in court knew he, Zhou Wangshu and Wu Yiming had severed ties, and the Duke of Canghe no longer stood behind the crown prince.

Then came the flood in the western plains. The emperor ordered him and Wu Yiming to go.

He refused, he knew it was against the rules, but still, he stayed.

Zhou Wangshu had always been the one to stand by Wu Yiming's side. No matter how reckless or impossible the situation, he followed without hesitation.

But that time, he didn't.

That time, Wu Yingyue offered to go in his place.

Then the news came, Wu Yiming had fallen into the flood, his body swept away by the river.

Just like that.

Loss was nothing new to him. He had lost before. Again and again, until grief had carved itself into his bones.

But when there was nothing left, when everything else had been taken from him,

The only person he clings onto in the end was

Wu Yingyue.

So, who the real scumbag here? ;0

Thanks for reading sweets!!