The silence in the chamber was suffocating. Wu Yingyue stood there, swaying slightly.

Zhou Wangshu didn't say a word. He only stared at him. Then, without another glance, he turned and left.

The moment the door closed, Wu Yingyue's body gave out. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold floor, his vision blurring.

Outside, Zhou Wangshu barely made it down the corridor before his legs gave way. He staggered, gripping the wall for support. His breaths came harsh, uneven. His hands, still stained with ink and blood, trembled as he stared at them.

Why?

Why hadn't Wu Yingyue dodged?

He had been slow—so slow that even an untrained servant could have stepped aside in time. And yet, Wu Yingyue had taken the hit without moving, without resisting.

Zhou Wangshu let out a sharp breath, then slammed his forehead against the cold stone wall.

Regret clawed at his chest, bitter and unrelenting.

"Your Grace..."

Lingling.

He barely registered her presence before a small, steady hand took hold of his wrist.

"This isn't a place to linger," she whispered, "Come with me."

Zhou Wangshu didn't resist as she pulled him away. Step by step, down the dimly lit halls, through a passageway hidden behind a faded tapestry, until they reached a secluded courtyard deep within the palace grounds.

It was quiet here. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and moss, the walls high enough to block out prying eyes.

Lingling knelt before him, "The Minister of Revenue is growing impatient, Your Grace," she said. "He is still aligned with His Highness, but that trust is wearing thin. The Duke of Canghe withdrawing his support has made things... difficult."

Zhou Wangshu's gaze darkened, his mind already piecing together the implications. Wu Yingyue was being backed into a corner.

He turned his attention fully to Lingling. "And your observations?"

"His Highness is bleeding influence. His movements are restricted and many officials are hesitating to offer full support. If this continues, he will have no choice but to act rashly."

Lingling had been by Wu Yingyue's side for years. A quiet presence, a diligent servant. But unlike the others, her loyalty had never belonged to Wu Yingyue.

Because Zhou Wangshu had placed her there himself.

Every prince had a study companion, a noble child of an influential family chosen to grow alongside them, to build camaraderie and trust. Zhou Wangshu had played that role for Wu Yingyue. It had given him access, a position at his side, and a way to understand him.

But his father, the ever-suspicious General Zhou, had never trusted Wu Yingyue.

"He's like a snake," his father had once warned. "Hiding in the dark, waiting for his moment."

Zhou Wangshu knew it too. As a child, he had been closer to Wu Yingyue than anyone else. He had treated him as his own, a friend he cherished beyond reason. When Wu Yingyue was in pain, he felt it like it was his own. There were times he had even cried for him.

But even then, buried beneath all that closeness, there had been something else. A quiet fear.

Wu Yingyue was different. His silences were too heavy and his smiles had some unknown meaning. He watched, he learned, yet he revealed so little of himself. There was something unnerving about him, something Zhou Wangshu had never been able to put into words.

And yet, he still loved and cherished him.

That was why, when his father and the Empress had told him to plant someone at Wu Yingyue's side, he had hesitated.

But in the end, he did it.

And now, he could only be grateful he had.

"You've done well," Zhou Wangshu finally said. "Keep watching. If he makes a mistake, I want to know."

Lingling bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."

===========================================================================================

The night passed in a blur of fever and pain.

By the time Wu Yingyue awoke, the world around him was steeped in a soft, muted haze. The faint scent of medicine lingered in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of incense. His body felt heavy, like lead sinking into silk sheets, and when he tried to move, a sharp, burning pain lanced through his skull.

A shadow moved at his bedside. "You're awake," came a voice, it was Guang Ze.

Wu Yingyue let out a slow breath. "Where..." His throat was dry.

"You collapsed," Guang Ze said simply. "It's been three days."

Three days.

Memories swam at the edges of his mind. His lips twitched, but no laughter came this time.

Lingling appeared at the doorway, carrying a porcelain bowl filled with warm medicine. "You need to drink this," she said, kneeling beside him.

Wu Yingyue turned his head slightly, his gaze distant. "Where is my mother?"

Silence.

Lingling didn't meet his eyes. Guang Ze's expression remained unreadable.

"She is in the inner palace," Guang Ze said at last. "You cannot see her."

Wu Yingyue's fingers twitched against the sheets. His voice came out quiet, hoarse. "Why?"

Guang Ze and Lingling exchanged a glance. It was Lingling who finally spoke, her tone careful. "We... we sent word, Your Highness." She hesitated. "Her Majesty was informed of your condition."

"And?"

"She refused to come."

The words were quiet, but they struck deeper than any blade.

Wu Yingyue didn't move, didn't speak. He simply lay there, staring at the canopy above.

"...I see," he murmured.

For the first time in a long while, Wu Yingyue felt tired. Truly, deeply tired.

Before the silence could settle, a hurried knock at the door was frantic, almost desperate.

A servant stumbled inside, breathless, his forehead damp with sweat. He fell to his knees, bowing so low that his voice came muffled against the floor.

"Y-Your Highness..." His hands trembled as he clenched the hem of his robes, fearing that he would behead today for being the one to reveal this cursed news to the ruthless crown prince.. "F-Forgive me, but—b-but there is urgent news—"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his body rigid with terror.

"T-The Emperor has issued a decree—" he stammered, eyes darting anxiously toward Guang Ze and Lingling as if hoping they would intervene.

But no one spoke.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. His lips trembled, struggling to force the words out. "D-Duke Zhou has... h-has been arrested."

Wu Yingyue's gaze, sharp as a blade, locked onto the servant. "For what?"

The servant shuddered violently. "C-Corruption... embezzlement of the disaster funds from three years ago... F-Forgive me, Your Highness, b-but he has been thrown into prison."

Lingling gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Guang Ze's brows furrowed.

Wu Yingyue felt the walls closing in. He had barely woken, barely grasped his surroundings—and now this? His body was weak, but his mind spun, clawing for an explanation.

Zhou Wangshu. Arrested.

For corruption?

Ridiculous.

And for something that happened three years ago?

Don't f*ck with him!

"...Take me to him!"