Song Meiyu groaned, rolled halfway across the rug, and eventually dragged herself to the table. She dropped onto the cushion with a sigh.
"Based on the pattern of symptoms, the way it affects each person differently, and how completely useless all the treatments have been…" She flopped forward until her chin rested on the table. "Master Yin Xue thinks it's probably poison."
Linyue nodded once as she poured tea for the others. "Did she say anything else?"
"She's going to dig through her books and scrolls tonight," Song Meiyu said, voice muffled against the table. "See if there's anything useful in there."
Linyue raised an eyebrow. "Hopefully it's not the same scroll where she accidentally drew a chicken instead of a lung diagram."
Song Meiyu instantly burst into giggles and nearly rolled off the cushion. "Right! That happened once! Or twice? Maybe three times."
He Yuying took a slow, casual sip of tea. "That chicken looked like it had tuberculosis."
Linyue chuckled at the memory. She still remembered Master Yin Xue holding up the scroll proudly, insisting the 'lung chicken' was anatomically accurate, then spending an entire hour arguing with Master Tian Mo about it.
Shen Zhenyu said nothing. He merely sipped his tea very slowly. His expression was perfectly neutral, which was exactly how Linyue knew he was picturing disaster.
Song Meiyu suddenly shot up so fast her teacup nearly went flying. Her eyes sparkled. "Wait a second! Isn't there a library here?! This is the royal palace! They must have everything. Books, scrolls, medical records, herb lists, maybe even a secret scroll on how to grow eyebrows back after an alchemy accident!"
He Yuying let out a long, soul-deep groan and sank low into his chair. "Here we go again."
Linyue sipped her tea without so much as a twitch. The tea was excellent. Very warm. Very calming. Almost enough to make her pretend she didn't hear the impending chaos.
But Song Meiyu was not about to let herself be ignored. She looked at them one by one. "Tea time's over," she announced, planting both hands on the table. "Let's go!"
He Yuying groaned louder, now horizontal across his chair. "Move where? It's late. Can't this wait until morning? You know, after sleep? Like normal people?"
"Normal people don't find cures!" Song Meiyu declared. "We're cultivators! Sleep is optional! Answers are eternal!"
Before he could protest, she lunged across the table and grabbed him by the collar.
He Yuying yelped as she yanked him halfway out of his chair, his arms flailing. "Let me die here in peace!"
Linyue calmly set down her teacup and folded her hands in her lap, watching the chaos unfold.
Shen Zhenyu finally spoke, his voice flat. "We need permission to enter the royal library."
Song Meiyu froze mid-drag, one fist still clutching He Yuying's sleeve. "…Oh. Right. Permission."
She dropped him instantly. He Yuying slid back into his chair. "Finally," he muttered, straightening his collar. "Someone with sense."
Song Meiyu spun toward Linyue so quickly her braid nearly hit He Yuying in the face. "Sister Linyue! It's your turn!"
Linyue tilted her head. "My turn? To drag Brother Yuying?"
"No!" Song Meiyu huffed, hands on her hips. "It's your turn to go ask the Demon King for permission!"
"Why me?"
"Because he likes you, obviously!" Song Meiyu said with a sly smile. "If we go, he'll probably set the library on fire and kick us out. But if you go…" She clasped her hands dramatically against her chest, eyes sparkling. "He might personally escort you there, holding a lantern, whispering tragic poetry about moonlight and your hair or something."
He Yuying, now sprawled across two chairs again, gave a lazy nod. "It's true. I've seen it. He glows when you talk to him. It's unsettling."
Linyue let out a long, quiet sigh. "Fine. I'll ask for permission."
She dragged her feet as she left the room, heading toward Shu Mingye's courtyard.
Would he be in his chamber? Maybe in his study? Or better yet, not in either place. That way she could leave a very polite note and vanish before anyone could stop her. She briefly considered asking Boyi for help, but quickly dismissed the thought. He was probably somewhere in the village being heroic. Probably carrying stretchers, dragging patients, or rescuing chickens from certain doom.
That left only one other option.
As if summoned by fate, a certain someone came skidding around the corner.
"Princess!" Shanjun called, stopping so fast his boots squeaked on the polished floor. He straightened so fast he nearly lost his balance, then gave a sharp bow that almost resulted in him headbutting his own knee. "Are you looking for the Lord?"
"I'm looking for permission to enter the royal library," Linyue replied flatly. "Also… don't call me princess."
Shanjun grinned like he had been waiting years for this moment. "Alright, little dumpling."
Linyue groaned.
Little dumpling. She had not heard that ridiculous nickname in ages. She didn't exactly mind it. In fact, it carried the faint warmth of childhood, back when she waddled after Shanjun with sticky hands, demanding snacks and plotting small rebellion. But now was hardly the time for dumplings, snacks, or nostalgia.
"Where is he?" she asked, her tone polite but firm.
"Lord is in his study," Shanjun said, spinning neatly on his heel and gesturing for her to follow.
Her footsteps quiet as they crossed the long hallway. The closer they came to the study, the heavier the air seemed to grow. Even the lanterns along the wall flickered uneasily. They stopped before a large wooden door that seemed to radiate silent doom.
Shanjun leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Lord is in a bad mood. Everyone's afraid he might actually burn someone. Or, you know… everyone."
Linyue gave him a long, blank look. "So you're sending me in to be burned alive?"
"Pfft. He won't burn you," Shanjun said cheerfully. "He might do something else, though." He gave her a very unhelpful wink and immediately vanished down the hallway before she could ask what "something else" meant.
Linyue stared at the door. She let out a tiny sigh, then very slowly raised her hand and knocked once.
Inside, Shu Mingye sat behind a mountain of scrolls. The air around him was heavy. His handsome face was darker than the midnight sky outside. Papers covered his desk. Some were stacked neatly. Most were not. The reports all screamed the same grim message: unexplained illness, rising death toll, no cure, no progress.
He leaned back in his chair, pressing his thumb hard against his temple. This did not feel like a simple disease. It was too deliberate. Poison, perhaps. A strange one that attacked the lungs and strangled the meridians. He had already ordered every physician in the palace to search for poisonous herbs, rare toxins, anything with symptoms that matched. Progress was painfully slow. At this rate, he might solve it in another twenty years.
Knock.
He didn't look up. Probably another report. Or a terrified servant bringing fresh bad news. He had started to think the servants were competing to see who could make him scowl the fastest. His voice came out low and flat. "If it's another update, leave it at the door."
From the other side came a familiar voice. "It's not."
Silence.
A sharp shuffle of paper. A chair scraping against the floor. Footsteps approaching, fast and deliberate.
The heavy door creaked open.
"Pie." Shu Mingye's voice changed instantly, rich with warmth and a flicker of surprise that melted into quiet amusement.
In two long strides he reached her, one hand sliding firmly around her waist. Before Linyue could gather a proper protest, she was already pulled inside. The door shut with a soft click behind her, sealing out the cool hallway air and the faint, sensible thought of escape.
"I came here to ask for permission," she said seriously, though it was hard to sound dignified while caught in the arms of a handsome Demon King who seemed far too pleased to see her. She felt suspiciously like a dumpling about to be eaten.
Shu Mingye tilted his head, eyes gleaming as if the answer amused him already. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Permission to seduce me at midnight?"