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The house was quiet.
A kettle boiled gently over the hearth, and the scent of ginger tea filled the small home. Outside, light rain tapped softly against the windowpanes.
It had been two days since Shèng Lín returned.
He hadn't spoken much since that night of weeping, only rising to eat and sitting by the door with empty eyes. But today, something changed.
That morning, he bathed. Combed his hair. Dressed properly.
And then—after a long pause—he asked to speak.
The three of them sat around the fire.
Lù Zhāo beside the window, her hands calmly folded.
Shèng Měi next to her brother, silent but ready.
Shèng Lín looked down, fingers curling against his knees. His voice came out low—fragile, as if each word cost him part of his soul.
> "You should know everything."
> "What happened between me and… the prince."
Lù Zhāo didn't flinch. She simply nodded.
So he began.
---
He spoke of the poison.
Of the night it rained.
Of the wine.
Of the kiss.
> "He kissed me before the drink touched my lips. I didn't stop him. I didn't know what was real anymore."
He told them of the soul swap.
> "I woke up in his body. And he was in mine."
He described the days that followed. The arguments. The shared chamber. The frustration. The forced learning of each other's lives.
And then… the feelings.
How irritation turned to fascination.
How fascination blurred into desire.
And how desire twisted into something warm and dangerous.
> "He started seeing me. Not as a knight. Not as a spy. But as someone he… wanted. And I…"
His voice cracked.
> "I let him."
> "Even after knowing what I had done."
---
Shèng Měi's fingers trembled in her lap. She said nothing. Not yet.
Shèng Lín continued.
> "When I told him the truth, I knew it was over. I knew what I had broken. He asked for the poison. I gave it. We drank. We kissed again."
He paused.
> "And when we woke up, we were back in our own bodies."
> "But something else had changed."
His eyes lifted slowly toward Lù Zhāo.
> "He told me to leave before the sun passed overhead."
> "That if he saw me again, he would kill me himself."
The silence was long.
Painful.
Then, barely a whisper:
> "Do you… hate me too?"
Lù Zhāo didn't look away.
She inhaled deeply, then said:
> "I don't hate you, Shèng Lín."
He blinked.
> "I should. But I don't."
> "Because I think the prince never truly hated you either."
Shèng Lín's mouth parted, his voice failing.
> "He was hurt. Betrayed. But if he truly hated you, you'd be dead. He let you go because part of him still hoped…"
She trailed off.
> "That it wasn't all a lie."
---
Shèng Měi finally spoke.
> "You broke his trust," she said, voice calm but firm. "But you also broke your own heart."
She looked between them.
> "So maybe it's time you stop running, and start healing."
And for the first time in weeks—
Shèng Lín nodded.
---