The city's neon lights faded behind him as he walked alone down a narrow alley. The group had just wrapped filming their new MV in this unfamiliar city, and while the others were already heading back to the hotel, Jin felt restless. He had one destination in mind: a tiny antique shop, recommended by a friend who swore it held treasures "beyond imagination." Jin didn't expect much—but tonight, something whispered that this visit would be different.
His black face mask hid most of his face; a simple black jacket and trousers kept him inconspicuous. Even so, the sharp line of his jaw and neat short haircut betrayed a quiet refinement. He moved with precision, composed, calm—the kind of aura that drew eyes without effort. The few elders in the alley—aunts and uncles carrying baskets—did not recognize him as Jin Yihao of Xing Yu, but even in their casual curiosity, they felt the subtle pull of his presence.
At the end of the alley, a small, crooked wooden sign swayed gently in the evening breeze. The golden characters glimmered faintly in the lantern light:
"幻书阁" – Pavilion of Illusive Books.
The name alone sparked something in him—a thrill, a pulse of anticipation. He pushed open the door, and a small bell chimed, echoing in the quiet alley.
Inside, the air smelled of dust, incense, and something older, deeper, almost like magic. Shafts of warm light revealed shelves stacked high with relics: carved figurines, delicate porcelain, and countless scrolls, each seeming to hum with hidden stories. Jin wandered carefully, fingers brushing the objects, until a small leather-bound book caught his eye.
Its cover was midnight blue, embossed with gold filigree and a dragon coiling majestically at the center. And at the top, the title shimmered in gilded characters:
"赤月五王子" – Five Princes Under the Red Moonlight.
Jin's breath caught. He stared at the title longer than he meant to, and for a moment, the rest of the shop vanished. Five princes. Red moonlight. Five. Five, just like his group… Xing Yu.
A shiver ran through him. He had never believed in coincidences, yet something about this book felt impossibly… fated. It wasn't just the gold embossing or the dragon—it was as if the story itself was whispering to him, calling out to him, echoing the rhythm of his own life.
The elderly shopkeeper, polishing a vase in the corner, glanced up, but said nothing. Jin, still masked, nodded politely. Then, without hesitation, the man handed him the book. No price. No bargaining. Just a simple, almost knowing gesture.
Jin blinked. "It's… free?"
The shopkeeper only shrugged and returned to his work. Jin allowed a small smile. Sometimes, the world handed you exactly what you were meant to find.
Carefully, he tucked the book under his arm, chest calm, heart quietly thrilled. His mind wandered briefly to the other members of Xing Yu: Rapper probably nursing sore legs, Visual fussing with his hair, Main Vocal quietly sipping tea, and the Maknae… likely causing chaos somewhere, as always.
But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, it was just him—and the dragon book from the Pavilion of Illusive Books, which somehow felt made for him and his five princes, his group, Xing Yu.