The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long, warm shadows across the wooden floor of Han Shou Yi's bedroom. The air inside was still, heavy with a familiar scent—old paper, herbal oils, and the faint trace of incense that always lingered in the elder's room. Nothing had been touched. The bed was still made neatly, the wardrobe doors closed, the framed photographs unmoved. And yet, the silence inside screamed of absence.
Xu Yang stood frozen near the threshold, bare feet sinking slightly into the polished wood. His hands clutched the letter—a single envelope, worn and slightly yellowed, yet handled with reverence. The handwriting across the front had stopped his heart cold.
For Xu Yang.
Inside, the words had unraveled his world.
If you are reading this letter, it means I am already gone...
Each line had pierced deeper than the last. Memories of his grandfather—no, his guardian, his anchor—washed over him with every word.
Yu Chen had read the letter first.
He had been the one to find it, hidden under an old cloth in the deepest drawer of the wardrobe.
And now, he's back sat at the edge of the bed in his sharp black suit, his expression unreadable, his movements calm and unnervingly precise as he folded Han Shou Yi's clothes one by one.
His legs were planted firmly, his spine straight, every motion clean and controlled. The flick of his wrist as he folded each shirt was quiet but intentional. There was something mechanical about it, something cold—like this wasn't mourning but maintenance.
Xu Yang, still in the doorway, stared at him through the wet film of unshed tears.
"…You're just… folding clothes?" he whispered hoarsely. His voice cracked. "After reading that?"
Yu Chen didn't look up. His hands continued folding. The cotton made the softest whisper under his touch.
"I don't care who you are." Yu Chen said with his cold tone, just like his expression.
Xu Yang flinched. The words cut sharper than they should have.
He looked down at the letter in his hands again, fingers gripping the envelope like it might fly away if he let go.
The title was still seared into his memory—Prince Lin Xu Yang.
His legs finally moved.
Slowly, like his joints were locked in ice, he stepped into the room. His bare feet brushed against the cool wood as he approached the bed.
"I should be the one folding these," he said quietly. "They're his. He raised me. This… it should be my job."
"You can't even keep your hands steady," Yu Chen replied, still without looking at him.
It wasn't a taunt. He said it like a fact.
Xu Yang's lips parted as he looked down again. Sure enough, his hands were trembling—enough to make the envelope quiver.
"I'm not trembling…" he muttered weakly, and then gave a shaky, almost embarrassed laugh. "…Okay. Maybe I am."
He knelt beside the bed without waiting for permission, dropping to his knees with an almost childlike awkwardness. His knees pressed against the floorboards, grounding him.
He set the letter in his lap gently—like it was sacred—and reached toward the bed to take one of Han Shou Yi's shirts.
The moment his fingers touched the fabric, his body froze.
The scent hit him like a memory—herbs, sunlight, and something purely him. Han Shou Yi's presence lingered in the fabric, still warm somehow, like time had yet to notice he was gone.
Xu Yang blinked fast and sniffed hard, his lips pressing into a thin line as he tried not to cry.
He began folding, mimicking Yu Chen's motions as best he could. But his hands were too tight. His folds were clumsy and crooked.
He unfolded it and tried again. Still wrong.
"Ugh…" he muttered, his voice cracking again. He turned slightly, brushing at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "I'm not good at this…"
Yu Chen paused for a moment but didn't look at him.
Another shirt. Another perfect fold. Another quiet rustle of cotton.
Xu Yang kept trying. His brows furrowed with the kind of stubbornness born from grief.
"…Thank you," he said finally, his voice small, trembling—but sincere. "For being here."
Yu Chen didn't answer.
He simply reached for another shirt and folded it just as silently as the last. His presence didn't offer comfort. It offered weight. Solidity. A calm that Xu Yang couldn't reach but still leaned toward.
And in that heavy silence, with only the whisper of cloth and the echo of what had been lost between them…
Xu Yang stayed. Folding badly, crying quietly.
And Yu Chen never left.
---
Yu Chen's POV
"Yaaawn…"
God, I'm absolutely exhausted.
Here I am, half-asleep, in the middle of biology class.
The teacher, Mr. Gao Zi, is passionately explaining the neural system of the human eye, his voice echoing through the quiet classroom. Meanwhile, I've slouched in my seat, resting my cheek against my hand, trying to pretend I'm listening—but in truth, my eyes are barely open.
I stayed up until 3 a.m. last night helping Xu Yang with his ridiculous request. Honestly, pulling an all-nighter isn't anything new for me. I've trained myself to function with minimal sleep. Still… it doesn't make the fatigue any easier to bear. My head feels heavy, my body even more so. There's a constant dull ache in my temples. I feel lazy, sluggish, like I'm moving underwater.
Maybe it's because I'm still stuck in high school. There's nothing stimulating anymore, nothing that excites me. I've already seen everything—I already know how things will unfold. When you've seen too much, life becomes predictable. Boring. Tedious.
But wait…
Why… did I even go that far to help Xu Yang?
My brows knit together instinctively as confusion settles in.
I've just realized something unsettling. I didn't have to help Xu Yang like that. Not to that extent. Especially not when I know for a fact that there's no blood relation between him and that old man he lives with. None.
I'm confident that man is nothing more than a guardian by contract—or worse, a business associate who has some sort of transactional relationship with Xu Yang. There's no way he's family. If he were family—royalty, even—then the news of that man's death would've been a global sensation. The media would've exploded with headlines about a fallen royal.
…Wait.
Death?
I suddenly sit upright, jolted by a cold memory creeping back into my thoughts.
There were two major death reports recently.
The first one? A breaking news story about a murder that happened right here, at our school.
The second? A much more mysterious case—a missing member of the royal family who vanished for two whole months… only to be found dead, in an undisclosed location. The name of the place was never released to the public. The body was confirmed, but all details were buried.
Ruo Yi… is Xu Yang?
My heart skips a beat.
That means—the person I risked everything to save… was Xu Yang?
Then where the hell was the real Ruo Yi?
Just as my thoughts spiral further, Mr. Gao Zi's voice slices through the silence like a knife.
"Liang Yu Chen, is something bothering you? You've been frowning at your desk for quite a while. Do you have a question about the ocular nervous system?" he asks, whiteboard marker in hand, pausing his lecture to look at me.
I blink twice and snap out of it.
"Ah—no. I don't have any questions. I was just wondering if I could step out for a moment to use the restroom."
"I see," he replies with a brief nod. "Go ahead, but don't take too long."
I get up from my seat, bow slightly in respect, and step out of the classroom, sliding the door behind me as quietly as possible.
As I walk into the hallway, I feel a pair of eyes watching me. I don't have to look to know it's Ying Yue. She always stares at me like she's trying to read my soul—but today, I ignore her completely. I've lost all interest. There's no reason for me to waste my energy or time on her anymore. She's become irrelevant in the grand scheme of everything.
I walk along the empty corridor, my footsteps echoing faintly. For a brief second, I consider skipping class again—disappearing for an hour or two like I usually do.
But I stop myself.
If I ditch again, I'll get flagged. My attendance will take a hit. My grades will drop, and my teachers will start asking questions I don't want to answer. I've already skipped enough times this semester.
So, I decide on a compromise.
I'll head to the restroom, splash some cold water on my face, maybe wash my hands to wake myself up—and then I'll go back to class. At least I'll look like I'm trying.
But deep down, I know… my mind isn't in that classroom anymore.
It's with Xu Yang.
And the mystery that's only just beginning to unravel.
----------
From morning until late afternoon, I didn't speak a single word to Ying Yue.Not a glance, not a nod, not even the courtesy of acknowledgment.
Every time she tried to start a conversation, I pretended she didn't exist. I kept my gaze fixed elsewhere—on the blackboard, on my notes, on the passing clouds outside the window. Anywhere but her.
But Ying Yue… she didn't give up. Her persistence was suffocating.
By the time the final bell rang, she had grown bolder, cornering me at the classroom door.
Her body blocked my way, desperate and trembling.
"Move. I want to go home," I said, my voice low and edged with venom.
I made my tone sharp, sarcastic—cold enough to slice through whatever delusion she was still clinging to. I didn't want to deal with her anymore. My head was pounding from lack of sleep, and all I wanted was to collapse into bed, away from this noise.
"Yu Chen—why… why are you like this?" she stammered, her voice cracking as the words spilled out. "What did I do wrong? Please… talk to me. Just talk to me. I beg you, Yu Chen—please!"
Then she reached for me.
Her fingers wrapped around my wrist, warm and familiar—but now, it only made my skin crawl.
Disgusting.
I ripped my hand away, shaking her off, and shoved her hand aside with more force than I intended.
Her eyes went wide, shimmering with the hurt of betrayal. I could see her lips tremble, see the tears she was holding back, and for a second I wondered if she even realized the scene she was creating. Did she understand that half the class was watching? That her clinging, her pleading, her fragile little act was nothing but a public spectacle now?
Whispers rose like a swarm of buzzing insects.
I clenched my jaw.
She doesn't get it.
I had been patient.
I had been quiet.
I had given her every silent hint that I was done with her. But she refused to accept it.
I didn't want to be cruel.
God knows, I didn't want to turn into someone I'd hate. Because I knew if I let my anger loose, it would spiral. I could end up crossing the line. And in this world, if I cross it, no one will protect me.
No family to back me up.
No friends to defend me.
One serious incident, and I'd get expelled. I'd lose everything.
But… she didn't leave me a choice.
Fine. If this is the only language she'll understand—
I pushed her.
The motion was sharp, sudden. Her body hit the cold classroom floor with a dull thud.
Gasps erupted instantly, followed by a wave of shocked whispers.
I didn't move. I didn't speak. I just stood there and let them watch me.
Ying Yue's wide eyes stared up at me, shimmering with disbelief. She looked like her entire world had crumbled in that single moment.
"Yu Chen! What's wrong with you?! Don't you even feel sorry for Ying Yue?!" Mei Mei's voice snapped through the murmurs.
Of course, it was Mei Mei—Ying Yue's loyal friend. Calm, reasonable, always righteous. She was kneeling beside Ying Yue now, her eyes full of judgment and anger.
I didn't answer.
I only stared.
Hatred, cold and sharp, seeped into my gaze. Disgust twisted in my chest.
That silent glare of mine froze the room. Even the whispers stopped, replaced by an uneasy hush.
Once, I was the quiet one. The aloof one. The boy whose whole world revolved around Ying Yue in secret.
I admit it.
I loved her once.
But no more.
Today, I sever the thread of fate between us.
If I cut it now, then the future where she betrays me—where she destroys me—will no longer exist.
I walked out of the classroom.
My footsteps echoed down the hallway like a verdict.
Let them be shocked. Let them talk.
I no longer cared.
From this moment forward, I am free.
And I will carve out a new future for myself
A future where betrayal cannot reach me.
A future where, finally… I can find my own happy ending.