She stared at him, unimpressed. "Entrance fee again? Can I pay with candy this time?"
Shu Mingye burst out laughing. He couldn't help it, just the memory of it made his shoulders shake. That ridiculous day at the palace gate, when she tossed a handful of colorful candies into his bloody palm with that deadpan face. She thought there was an entrance fee, as if the Demon King himself doubled as a grumpy doorman with a sweet tooth. At the time, he was annoyed, and definitely not in the mood for jokes. But now, thinking back, he could almost taste the sugar and confusion. Absolutely ridiculous and unforgettable.
"You really did throw candy at me," he said, still grinning. "Who does that?"
"People who don't carry silver."
Shu Mingye gave her a wicked smile. "Not this time. Candy is not accepted."
And before she could ask what was accepted. His arms swept around her waist, and suddenly her feet weren't touching the floor. She gave a very undignified squeak (that she would later deny ever happened) as he lifted and carried her to his desk.
He set her down gently on the edge and didn't let go. His arm stayed wrapped around her, warm and unyielding, holding her in place. Now they were at eye level. His breath brushed her cheek. His eyes, darker than midnight, fixed on her lips.
Linyue narrowed her eyes. And right when his face got too close—smack!—her hand landed squarely across half his face. Palm on his cheek. Fingers over his mouth. Like she was stopping a sneeze. Or saving a nation.
Shu Mingye frowned. He pulled back just enough to stare at her, deeply offended. "You said you liked it."
Well. She did like it. The problem was… her heart hadn't prepared.
Shu Mingye lifting her up, setting her on the desk, then looking at her like she was the only thing in the world worth burning palaces for, had caught her completely off guard. His eyes flickered, fierce and hungry. There was something in them that burned. Something that said he wanted her mind, body, soul, and maybe her snack stash too. Her heart, traitorous thing that it was, skipped several beats and then started drumming.
Unfair, she thought. He had already kissed her twice. Shouldn't she at least settle the score?
She was a cultivator. A strategist. A woman of balance and logic. So, with all the ridiculous logic she could gather, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Shu Mingye froze. His dark eyes widened, the sharp and terrifying king suddenly looking stunned. His hands tensed at her waist.
Linyue looked right into his eyes and smiled. Then she leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, but sure. No hesitation. No stammering. Just her lips on his, warm and certain, as if she had decided this was her move and she was winning this round.
Shu Mingye forgot how to breathe. He might have forgotten his own name too. He might've forgotten that they were in the middle of a deadly disease investigation, surrounded by a mountain of scrolls and official reports.
All he knew was Linyue. Her lips were soft and cool. Her breath held the faintest sweetness. The way she felt in his arms. Sweet, dangerous, impossible to let go, like holding something priceless and alive. His head tilted without thought, deepening the kiss. She tasted faintly of tea and quiet mischief, and her scent wrapped around him, sweet and refreshing, making it far too easy to stop thinking entirely. So he didn't. He kissed her deeper, like he had just discovered the most addictive medicine in the world and had no intention of sharing. When he finally pulled back, it was only because some tiny corner of his fogged brain reminded him that oxygen existed.
Linyue's eyes were still closed. Her chest rose gently as she caught her breath, and her ears… her ears had turned the most ridiculous and adorable shade of pink.
Shu Mingye's lips curved into a grin. A wicked, satisfied, "I'm-not-done-yet" kind of grin. Before she could recover, he leaned in again and captured her lips once more. She made a startled sound that melted straight into him. Scrolls clattered to the floor as her back slowly met the surface of the desk. Neither of them cared.
The kiss deepened, his hand sliding instinctively to cradle the back of her head. Her fingers curled tight at his collar, holding on, not pushing him away. Her lips moved softly beneath his—cool, sweet, and just as daring.
Somewhere in the background, one surviving scroll slid off the edge and flopped quietly onto the floor. He didn't care. The world could catch fire outside this study and he still wouldn't care. Right now, she was here. And he wasn't letting her go.
When they finally paused, Linyue blinked up at him, dazed, as if she had just been spun around and dropped into a dream she wasn't ready to wake from.
"That was..." she said in a low and soft voice.
"Entrance fee," Shu Mingye said, his smile entirely too smug.
Linyue glared. "Scrolls are crying on the floor."
"They'll live. I haven't had my dessert yet," he murmured, already leaning in again with absolutely no shame and even less self-control.
This time, she met him halfway without complaint.
After another moment (possibly ten) Shu Mingye finally helped her sit upright again. Her robes were wrinkled, her hair slightly messy, and her cheeks still pink.
Linyue glanced down at the poor scrolls scattered across the floor. Some had rolled under the table, as if trying to escape the scene entirely. Her mind was still foggy. She had only meant to settle the score with one kiss. One. Somewhere between the second kiss and his ridiculous "entrance fee" and "dessert" remark, the count had been lost. The math had collapsed and she suspected it wasn't going to recover anytime soon.
Meanwhile, Shu Mingye stood there looking entirely too smug, as if the world had just unfolded exactly the way he wanted. His arms were crossed loosely, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and that foolish smile hadn't left his face since the moment she walked in.
Linyue narrowed her eyes. "The others are waiting."
"It's fine. They'll understand."
She tilted her head suspiciously. "Understand what, exactly?"
"That we were… busy," he said smoothly.
"Busy," she repeated flatly. "With scroll murder?"
"With dessert and diplomacy," he replied.
Linyue stared at him, unimpressed. Then she smacked his shoulder.
He caught her hand before it could retreat, still wearing that infuriating smile. "Library permission granted."
She huffed. "Finally."
"And as the official gatekeeper," he added, "you are now legally required to report back for updates… daily."
"Are you assigning me homework?"
"Only if it ends with you on my desk again."
Shameless.
She jumped down from the desk so fast that Shu Mingye blinked. In a flash, she dashed to the door and closed it behind her with a firm thud right against her back. She stood there for a moment, pressing her palms to the wood, breathing like she had just escaped a very cozy, very dangerous ambush. She stared blankly down the hallway, trying to remember how to walk like a normal person. Her heart was beating too fast. Her lips still tingled. Her entire face felt like it was on fire. She didn't even know how things escalated so fast. One second she was asking about the library, the next… she was horizontal on a desk.
She was a cultivator. Why did one man with a ridiculous smile and fast hands turn her into a dumpling on a plate?
Somewhere between scrolls flying and Shu Mingye biting her lower lip, something had clicked. She liked him. A lot more than she thought. She didn't even know when it started. She sighed and started walking slowly back to her chamber, ignoring the fluttering in her chest.
It was strange. She used to dislike sweets. Completely indifferent. But after she woke up from that dream, something had changed. Now she craved sweetness. She remembered the taste of the moon dumplings her mother used to make—soft, warm, faintly sweet. And it wasn't just sweets. She used to be detached. Calm. Ice in human form. But now she felt too much. Happiness that bubbled up when she wasn't looking. Annoyance when Shu Mingye smirked (which was more often lately). Mischief she didn't know she was capable of. And a warm flutter in her chest that had absolutely nothing to do with cultivation. It was really strange. How could someone change this much in just five nights?
She shook her head sharply. There were more urgent things to do.
Poison. Sickness. Investigation.
With another long sigh, Linyue raised her hands and patted her own cheeks—smack smack—as if that could shake off the Shu Mingye effect currently scrambling her brain. Obviously, it didn't work. His face still floated in her mind like a smug, annoyingly handsome cloud refusing to dissipate. But she straightened her back anyway and picked up her pace.
Focus, she told herself. Library. Mission. No more kisses.
…Maybe.