I woke to the feeling of warmth.
Not sunlight, not a blanket.
Him.
Ming Yu's arm was wrapped around my waist, his face buried in the curve of my neck, his breath slow and even. Our legs were tangled, the sheet halfway kicked off the bed, exposing bare skin and dried sweat and the soft chaos of everything we'd become last night.
For a moment, I didn't move.
I just lay there, letting my mind catch up with my body.
The soreness was unmistakable—deep, aching, entirely earned. Every inch of me felt used, worshiped, claimed. And still… I didn't want to leave this bed.
I turned slightly, just enough to see him.
He looked peaceful. His hair was a tousled mess across the pillow, a faint crease between his brows like he was still half in battle even in his dreams. But his mouth was relaxed, lips parted just slightly. Vulnerable. Real.
My fingers brushed over his chest without thinking, tracing the slow rise and fall of his breath.
His arms tightened around me.
"You're staring," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
"I'm allowed," I whispered. "You're mine."
That got me a sleepy, crooked smile.
"I like the way that sounds," he said, eyes still closed. "Say it again."
I leaned in, brushed my lips against his jaw. "You're mine, Ming Yu,"
He opened his eyes, gaze soft but heated. "Good."
He kissed me—slow and tender, the kind of kiss that says you're safe now and I'm still here. When we pulled apart, his thumb traced my cheek, and he added quietly, "I meant what I said. I won't be with anyone else. Not Yufei. Not anyone. You're the only one I want."
My throat tightened.
I nodded, barely able to breathe. "I know. And that's all I needed to hear."
We lay there for another few breaths, tangled in warmth and comfort.
Then reality began to creep back in.
I sighed. "We should probably get up."
Ming Yu grunted in protest and buried his face in my neck again. "Just a few more minutes."
"You said that an hour ago," I teased, though I didn't exactly make an effort to move.
Still, eventually we both slipped out of bed, pulling on loose robes and attempting to look like two respectable humans who hadn't just broken a mattress in a royal-adjacent inn.
I opened the door to our room—only to find Wei Wuxian standing there with a steaming cup of tea.
He looked at me.
Then looked behind me.
Then smiled.
"Ah, good morning," he said with far too much cheer. "Sleep well?"
I blinked. "Uh…"
He took a long, pointed sip of his tea. "Sounded like you did."
My stomach dropped.
No. No. No no no—
"I'm sure you remember," he continued casually, "our rooms are adjoining."
My soul briefly left my body.
"Oh god," I muttered, pressing a hand to my forehead. "I forgot."
He gave me a wicked grin. "Honestly, I've been in war camps quieter than that."
Behind me, I heard Ming Yu chuckle.
And then—
Lan Wangji appeared beside Wei Wuxian.
Stoic. Immaculate. Radiating disapproval like an ice sculpture that somehow learned emotional nuance.
He said nothing, of course.
But his eyes.
His eyes betrayed everything.
A flicker. A glance. That fractional shift that could shatter a nation's morale.
I felt my face go up in flames.
Wei Wuxian leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially, "Don't worry. He meditated it out."
"Stop talking," I hissed, mortified.
Ming Yu finally stepped beside me, looking every bit like a man who had absolutely zero regrets. His hair was tousled, his expression calm, but the curve of his lips was pure sin.
He looked at Wei Wuxian. "Can't help it if the walls are thin."
I elbowed him so hard he actually winced.
Then, desperate to escape, I blurted, "I'm going to check on Yuling!" and fled down the hallway before anyone could say another word.
Because surviving a plague and an ambush was one thing.
Surviving Wei Wuxian's teasing?
A whole different battle.
***
I didn't stop walking until I reached the back room of the inn.
My heart was still racing—not from embarrassment anymore, but from something else. The ache of almost losing someone. The fear that she might still slip away.
I pushed open the door gently and stepped inside.
Yuling was awake, propped up slightly on a pillow, her face pale but peaceful. When she saw me, her lips curved into a soft, tired smile.
I didn't speak. I just crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her before she could even sit up fully.
"You idiot," I whispered, holding her tight. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I swear, I will never forgive you."
She laughed—a quiet, breathy sound, still weak but undeniably her.
"If this happens again," she said, "I'd still do exactly what I did."
I pulled back just enough to glare at her, eyes already stinging with tears. "Then I'll never forgive you twice."
She just grinned, stubborn as ever.
The door opened behind me, and I turned to see Ming Yu, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji entering the room. They moved with purpose, but softened when they saw her awake.
"How is she?" Wei Wuxian asked.
"Alive," I said, stepping aside. "And apparently still infuriating."
Yuling sat up a little straighter, bowing her head slightly to them. "Thank you," she said quietly, her voice still hoarse. "For saving my life."
Ming Yu shook his head. "You saved us first."
Wei Wuxian gave her a crooked smile. "Still. It's good to see you upright."
Yuling looked at each of us, then asked the question I knew was coming.
"What's our plan?"
I exhaled. "We're going to stay here for a little while. Just until you're stronger."
Her expression darkened. "Granny… I should go back. I have to find her. She'll be worried."
Ming Yu stepped forward. His voice was quiet, but the weight in it stilled the room. "It would be dangerous for you to return."
Yuling looked up at him, confused.
He continued, "Whoever orchestrated this—whoever sent those soldiers—they've seen you and Mei Lin. If they find out you survived, and they know Granny is your weakness... they'll use her. They'll make sure she never sees you again."
The words hit like a blade to the gut. Yuling froze. Her expression didn't change, but something in her eyes went tight.
I reached over and squeezed her hand. "We'll find a way to get word to Granny. I promise."
She looked up at me, a thousand things unspoken behind her tired smile.
I squeezed again. "No more going off alone. Got it?"
She chuckled faintly.
Wei Wuxian folded his arms, watching Yuling like she was a ghost with better timing than most.
"I still can't believe you're alive," he said quietly.
She shifted slightly on the bed, wincing as the motion tugged at her wound, but she pushed through it.
"I escaped the palace the day Queen Wei was arrested," she said. "The chaos was spreading fast, and my maid—Ruoxi—she found me just before the guards came. She was the one who smuggled me out."
Her voice faltered, then steadied. "She handed me a letter. Said my father gave it to her just in case. Told her to get me out of the capital, no matter what."
She looked down at her hands again, fingers tightening in the blanket. "He knew what was coming. He told Ruixi to take me and run—to disappear, to survive. And he left me everything in that letter."
Ming Yu stepped closer. "What did it say?"
Yuling's jaw clenched. Her voice dropped, low and sharp.
"That the court had turned. That the accusations against Queen Wei were going to stick, no matter the truth. He was trying to expose Wang family, but it was too late." Her gaze darkened. "He told me to run far away. Start a new life. Never look back. Never come back to Luyang."
She closed her eyes for a moment. "He called it 'mercy.' Said revenge would only lead to more death."
Wei Wuxian didn't speak. Neither did Lan Wangji. They just listened—still, sharp, taking it all in.
"For the first two years," Yuling continued, "I trained. I was already a cultivator—Father made sure of that—but it wasn't enough. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't strong enough. So I left. I joined a Daqi military post near the border, thinking maybe if I kept quiet, I could get stronger there."
Ming Yu frowned slightly. "You were with Daqi military?"
"For a few months," she said. "Until the son of one of the high ranking officers tried to take me as a concubine. Apparently, refugee girls don't get much of an option."
I felt my hands curl into fists.
"What did you do?" I asked.
Yuling gave a dry smile. "I broke his jaw. Then I ran."
I couldn't help but smile at that. That is definitely Yuling's style.
Yuling let out a slow breath, her shoulders sagging just a little as she leaned back against the pillows.
"After I escaped the military camp," she said softly, "I didn't care about revenge anymore. I was tired. I'd seen enough courts, men in power, lies disguised as honor."
She glanced at me and gave a small smile. "I found Granny 6 months later, on the outskirts of a river village. She didn't ask questions. Just gave me a bowl of rice and a place to sleep."
Her voice grew softer. "I stayed. And for the first time in years, I felt human again."
The room was quiet for a moment, the heaviness of everything she'd lived through settling over us like dust.
Then Lan Wangji finally spoke.
"What truth," he said quietly, "was your father trying to expose about the Wang family?"
Yuling stilled—just for a moment. A breath too long, a blink too slow. But it was enough to sharpen the quiet around us, to make the air feel thick with something unsaid. Her eyes dropped to the floor. Then slowly lifted to meet mine. And in them, for the first time, I saw it—guilt. Quiet and unspoken, but unmistakable.
She looked at Wei Wuxian then finally spoke.
"The Queen…" Yuling's voice was quiet, measured—each word carefully weighed. "Queen Wei didn't die in the crossfire between you and Prince Yan Jian Yi."
Wei Wuxian didn't move. Not a blink. Not a breath.
Yuling met his gaze. Steady. Steeled. "Yes, she was injured that day. She took a blow—one that wasn't meant for her. For a while, we thought that was the end of it."
She paused. Her hands trembled slightly, then stilled again in her lap.
"But she survived the night," Yuling said. "The healers managed to stabilize her. She was unconscious, but breathing. Healing, slowly. And the child she carried—your sibling—was still alive."
The air turned cold.
I felt it first in my fingertips—a creeping chill that threaded through my spine.
Wei Wuxian took a single step forward. Controlled. Barely audible. "She survived?"
Yuling nodded once, solemnly. "She did. Until a few days later…"
Her voice dropped, like even the words were dangerous.
"She was poisoned," she said. "A precise dose. One that mimics the signs of internal bleeding. Clean. Untraceable. Quiet enough to go unnoticed until it was far too late."
Wei Wuxian looked as if someone had driven a blade straight through his chest.
Beside me, Ming Yu's expression hardened—his jaw set, eyes darkening with something cold and dangerous.
Yuling's voice grew tighter, clipped with barely restrained anger. "My father found traces of it in her blood. It wasn't speculation—he had proof. Residue. Records. A letter from one of the dismissed palace maids. He knew who was behind it."
She turned her gaze toward Lan Wangji now, steady and unflinching.
"Minister Wang."
Wei Wuxian didn't speak—but his body locked into stillness. Like rage and grief were wrestling for space beneath his skin.
"My father tried to warn Queen Wei's supporters. He gathered everything. But he also knew he was being watched. That he wouldn't make it far." She swallowed, "So he told Ruoxi to smuggle me out. Because he knew… they would come for him next."
Wei Wuxian stepped back, like the weight of it all had physically hit him.
"She didn't die because of me…" he whispered.
"No," Yuling said. "She died because she was a threat. And they made sure it ended."
He turned away from us, pressing a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking—not with sobs, but with something worse.
Silence.
Controlled devastation.
Lan Wangji moved toward him, silent and steady, but didn't touch him. He simply stood nearby—present. Solid. A quiet wall between Wei Wuxian and the world.
I could feel it too—that moment when your reality shifts under your feet. When guilt you've carried for years suddenly morphs into rage.
The room was heavy with silence, everyone bracing under the weight of what Yuling had just revealed.
Ming Yu's voice broke through, quiet but sharp.
"Did your father tell you where he hid the evidence?"
Yuling nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her lap.
"The Wei ancestral shrine," she said. "He said it would be the last place they'd think to look. He hid it in the floorboard behind the altar."
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Wei Wuxian staggered back a step, his hand going to the wall for balance.
His eyes were wide, glassy. "The shrine?" he whispered. "It was there… all this time?"
His breath quickened, and I watched the color drain from his face. His throat worked like he was trying to swallow something that wouldn't go down. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall.
Lan Wangji stepped forward, voice steady and low. "If the evidence is still intact, and it is as strong as you say… we can bring down Minister Wang. His influence. His corruption. All of it."
Wei Wuxian didn't respond.
He looked like he was trying to stand upright in an earthquake that only he could feel.
"I have to go back," he muttered, pacing suddenly. "I have to see it. I have to find the truth. I have to—"
His voice cracked, spiraling faster than his feet could follow. "She didn't die because of me. She didn't die because of me. All these years—what was the point? What did I even—?"
"Wei Ying." Ming Yu's voice cut through gently but firmly.
He stepped in, placing a steadying hand on Wei Wuxian's shoulder. "You're not alone anymore. We'll go together. But you need to breathe."
Wei Wuxian stopped moving.
His jaw clenched. His shoulders shook.
But he listened.
And then—
Yuling's voice, small but trembling, filled the silence.
"I'm sorry."
We all turned to look at her.
She was staring at Wei Wuxian, eyes glassy, voice breaking.
"I wanted to tell you. I wanted to go back. But I was so young… and terrified. Everyone who spoke against Minister Wang was executed. I thought no one would believe me. I thought… I wouldn't survive the night."
Her voice cracked. "I should've tried. But I was afraid."
Wei Wuxian didn't speak for a long time.
He just stared at her—like he was seeing the missing years, the what-ifs, the girl who vanished, the sister who never got to tell him the truth.
And then, quietly, he whispered, "I understand."
Lan Wangji stepped closer beside him, his presence steady and grounding. "Then let's find the truth. Let's go back."
***
After everything that day—the truths, the tears, the ghosts of Queen Wei's past—we finally returned to our room.
Ming Yu let out a long sigh the second the door closed behind us, peeling off his robe and settling under the blanket like he'd just fought off a demonic horde. I joined him, curling close, savoring the quiet, the warmth, and the rare stillness.
It was peaceful.
For maybe five minutes.
Then—
Thump.
Thump-thump-thump.
The unmistakable sound of a bed rhythmically hitting a wall echoed through the thin partition between our room and the one next door.
I froze.
Ming Yu froze.
Then came the moaning.
Long. Drawn-out. Way too specific.
"Lan Zhan—ah—"
Wei Wuxian's voice was unmistakable. Pleading. Loud. Extremely audible.
My face flushed so hard I thought I might ignite.
I buried my head under the blanket and let out a stifled laugh. "Oh. My. God."
Beside me, Ming Yu looked like he was rethinking every decision that brought him to this exact moment.
"I think I just died," he whispered flatly, staring at the ceiling.
Another moan echoed, followed by the bed slamming into the wall like it was personally offended.
I couldn't stop giggling. "You okay over there?"
Ming Yu looked one step from spiritual collapse. "I'm starting to understand battlefield trauma."
The act went on like forever. Another creak. Another gasp. Another thump against the wall.
"I can't take this anymore," he groaned. "Mei Lin. Let's do something. Anything. You know what? Let's do what they're doing. Let's drown them out?"
I burst out laughing. "Shut up."
"I'm dying," he whispered.
"Just pretend you don't hear anything," I offered, valiantly trying not to laugh.
He pulled the pillow off just enough to shoot me a look. "How would you feel if you had to listen to your sibling doing this?"
I paused.
Visualized it.
Made a face like I'd bitten into a rotten lemon.
Ming Yu grinned. "Exactly."
Another moan echoed, this one truly theatrical—like Wei Wuxian was auditioning for an opera.
"Oh no," I whispered. "I think they're… finishing."
We both went still as the final crescendo hit. A long, breathy sound followed by the distinctive thump of a body collapsing onto a bed.
I turned to Ming Yu. "It's over."
He closed his eyes, exhaled dramatically, and said, "I survived the war. I survived the assassination attempts. But this is what might end me."
I was still laughing when—
Thump.
Thump-thump.
My head snapped toward the wall.
The moans resumed.
Louder.
And wetter.
My inner voice screamed.
Are they doing round two?!
Ming Yu sat up like he'd been struck by lightning. "Nope. That's it. I'm out. Mei Lin—let's go for a walk. A long one."
I was already climbing out of bed, covering my mouth with both hands to stop myself from howling.
We quietly slipped out of the room into the cool night air, our laughter barely suppressed as we strolled down the quiet back streets of the mountain town.
We didn't say much—just walked hand in hand, letting the night settle around us. The stars were out. The sky was clear. No moaning. No thumping. Just… peace.
By the time we returned to the inn, it was well past midnight.
And blissfully, mercifully, silent.
We crawled into bed without a word. Ming Yu pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my hair with a long, exhausted sigh.
"Good night," I whispered.
"Let's never book the room next to theirs again," he murmured.
I laughed softly, kissed his chest, and let sleep take us both—wrapped in warmth, silence, and the safety of each other.