Morning sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, spilling warmth across the polished floor of the Crown Prince's study. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and ink.
She sat cross-legged on the low couch, chin propped on her hand, watching the man behind the desk as if sheer willpower might make him look up. For the past hour, he hadn't moved except to dip his brush and continue his meticulous writing. The quiet scratching of ink on parchment was starting to feel like torture.
"You're ignoring me on purpose," she said flatly.
"Correct," DongZe replied without glancing up.
She let out a dramatic sigh loud enough to echo off the shelves. "I might die of boredom in your study. Would that finally make you look at me?"
No answer. Only the crisp, steady sound of the brush.
She slumped sideways until she was sprawled across the couch. "Maybe I should knock something over. Accidentally, of course."
Still nothing.
So she did. A porcelain paperweight shaped like a crane clattered off the edge of the table she'd been fiddling with. She gasped — theatrically — and peeked at him.
Not even a twitch.
"Unbelievable," she muttered, sitting up again. "Are you made of stone? Do you even blink?"
"I do," DongZe murmured, finally pausing to re-ink his brush. "Usually when people are quiet."
Her eyes narrowed. "So you do hear me."
"Unfortunately."
XiaoQi grinned, taking that as a victory. She slid off the couch and padded closer, leaning over his desk just far enough to block the light. "If I read one of your boring scrolls out loud in a dramatic voice, would that count as helping?"
He finally looked up — expression flat, patience thinning. "If you touch anything, I'll have you escorted out."
She beamed. "So you do care what I touch."
DongZe exhaled slowly, setting his brush down with exaggerated calm. "You have ten seconds to find a better hobby."
"Oh good," she said cheerfully, hopping up to sit on the edge of his desk. "I just found one. It's called annoying the Crown Prince."
DongZe's jaw tightened, a faint muscle ticking near his temple. "Get off my desk."
"But it's so clean," XiaoQi said, swinging her legs idly. "It's practically begging to be sat on. You should be flattered I chose yours."
His gaze lifted, cool and measured, like a blade sliding from its sheath. "Do you ever stop talking?"
She tilted her head. "Do you ever stop being boring?"
"You know, normal people would offer tea to their guests," she said, leaning forward. "Or maybe conversation. Something to keep them from—oh, I don't know—dying of boredom in a room that smells like burnt ink and ego."
That earned her a look. A very sharp, very quiet look.
"I could have the guards escort you out," he said. "Would that be entertaining enough?"
She gasped, placing a hand over her heart. "You'd have me dragged out just because I'm bored? You heartless tyrant."
"I prefer efficient administrator."
XiaoQi gave an exaggerated groan, collapsing dramatically against the desk. "Please, Your Highness, spare me your efficiency. Talk to me about something—your day, your secret hobbies, your tragic inability to smile—anything!"
"I'm working," DongZe said, his tone clipped.
She propped her chin on her hands, staring up at him. "Then I'll work too."
He didn't look convinced. "Doing what?"
"Supervising," she said proudly. "You seem like you need it. You've been glaring at that scroll for an hour. Has it offended you?"
His hand froze mid-stroke, and a small smudge of ink bloomed across the pristine parchment.
XiaoQi's eyes widened, then sparkled with mischief. "Oh no," she whispered dramatically. "The mighty Crown Prince has blotted his own scroll. What a scandal."
DongZe inhaled slowly, as if praying for divine patience. "XiaoQi."
"Yes, Your Highness?" she said sweetly.
"Out."
She slid off the desk, grinning. "Make me."
That did it. His chair scraped back as he stood, tall and imposing. XiaoQi squeaked and darted for the door before he could say another word, but then she paused and looked back at him.
"I didn't ask to be trapped inside the palace like a decorative plant," she muttered. "I want to go outside."
"Outside?"
"Yes. Beyond these walls. I've been cooped up for weeks. I want to see the city again."
"It's dangerous."
"I can handle danger."
He arched a brow. "You nearly died from poison."
"Exactly. Nearly," she shot back. "Which means I survived. I want fresh air, DongZe. I want to remember what it feels like to live."
The audacity in her tone tugged something deep in him, a spark of the defiance that had always both irritated and fascinated him.
"You are the Crown Prince's fiancée," he said finally, voice low and clipped. "You don't just go outside."
"I'm also a human being," XiaoQi countered, arms crossing. "Not a porcelain doll to be dusted and displayed. I'm suffocating in here, DongZe."
He said nothing at first, only regarded her with that frustrating, cool stare. The one that made her feel like a reckless child caught misbehaving. But beneath it, she thought she saw something flicker. Guilt, maybe. Or understanding he didn't want to admit to.
"You can walk in the gardens," he offered at last.
Her jaw dropped. "The gardens? The same gardens I've been trapped in for three weeks? I've named half the koi in the pond. One of them ignores me now."
His lips twitched, just slightly — the closest thing to amusement she'd ever gotten from him. But it was gone in an instant.
"You're impossible," he muttered.
"And you're impossible to live with!" she snapped back. "You act like the city is made of vipers waiting to strike. I just want to breathe air that isn't perfumed by palace servants and powdered courtiers."
He studied her. Her eyes shone with restless energy, cheeks flushed with that same stubborn spark he could never quite extinguish.
"You're serious about this," he said.
"Completely."
DongZe exhaled through his nose, gaze flicking briefly toward the window.
"I'll think about it," he said.
XiaoQi blinked. "You'll—wait, really?"
"I said I'll think about it," he clarified. "That is not the same as yes."
She grinned anyway. "That's as good as a maybe. And maybe means hope."
"Don't twist my words," he warned.
But she was already halfway to the door, humming triumphantly. "Too late. I'll take that as progress, Your Highness!"
DongZe watched her leave, the corner of his mouth threatening a reluctant smile before he caught himself.
By noon, DongZe found her in the garden—lying flat on the grass, arms spread, skirt fanned out like a wilted flower. A few startled servants lingered nearby, whispering nervously about propriety, but she didn't care. The sunlight painted her face in gold, and she looked far too content for someone "suffering" inside palace walls.
"Ah! DongZe!" she called the moment she spotted him, springing up onto her elbows. "Have you made up your mind?"
He exhaled, long and quiet, the faintest curve ghosting across his lips. "Fine. I'll take you out. But under one condition."
Her eyes lit up like festival lanterns. "What condition?"
"You obey every instruction I give," he said firmly. "No wandering off, no talking to strangers, no reckless heroics. Understood?"
XiaoQi rolled her eyes but nodded eagerly. "Yes, Your Highness."
He gave her a skeptical look. "You said that too quickly. I don't believe you."
"I can follow orders," she protested, hopping to her feet. "Sometimes."
"That 'sometimes' is exactly what concerns me."
"Oh, come on. You sound like an old man."
"I am the Crown Prince. Old men have less paperwork."
She snorted. "You're just afraid I'll cause chaos and you'll have to explain it to your father."
DongZe's lips quirked again, just barely. "That, too."
She clasped her hands dramatically. "So when do we leave? Now? Tomorrow? In an hour? I should wear something less 'future Empress' and more 'common traveller,' right? Oh! I've always wanted to try those street dumplings by the river—"
"XiaoQi."
She stopped mid-ramble.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We leave at dusk. Less attention that way."
Her excitement flickered into a mischievous grin. "So it's a secret outing?"
"Call it... a compromise," he said, turning to leave. "Be ready by sunset. And try not to draw attention to yourself until then."
"I'll be invisible," she promised.
He gave her a dry glance over his shoulder. "That would be a first."
She stuck her tongue out at his retreating back, then flopped back onto the grass, laughing softly to herself.
He was actually taking her outside.
For the first time in weeks, the palace didn't feel like a cage—it felt like anticipation, humming in her veins.
By dusk, the palace had grown quiet. The golden rooftops caught the last remnants of sunlight and faded into the muted hush of evening. Lanterns were being lit along the corridors, their warm glow soft and secretive.
XiaoQi was already waiting by the rear gate. She had taken the words disguise and commoner a little too enthusiastically.
Her silk robes had been replaced by a simple indigo hanfu, soft and loose about her frame. A plain ribbon held her hair in a messy knot, and a small straw hat sat crookedly on her head. It was clearly meant to make her blend in. It did the opposite.
DongZe arrived a moment later, dressed in dark robes that swallowed his usual regal air. There were no gold threads or jade ornaments, only quiet authority in the way he carried himself.
His gaze travelled over her attire, and the corner of his mouth almost twitched. "That hat is too small. It hides nothing."
XiaoQi tugged the brim down until it covered half her face. "It's called fashion, Your Highness."
"It's called attention-seeking," he said, fixing it so it actually shaded her properly. "Try not to draw any."
She beamed at him from beneath the hat. "You worry too much."
"I have reason to."
He said nothing more as they slipped through the side gate. The guards pretended not to notice, and soon the two of them stepped into the quiet edge of the city.
The change was immediate. The air felt different here—alive, textured with the smells of roasted chestnuts, clay dust, and incense smoke drifting from nearby shrines. A soft hum of laughter and conversation carried through the streets, and lanterns glowed like scattered stars above narrow lanes.
XiaoQi stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. "Oh," she whispered. "I forgot how this feels."
When she opened her eyes again, they sparkled. "Listen to that. People laughing. Vendors shouting. It's like the city is breathing."
DongZe watched her quietly, his hands clasped behind his back. The way she turned toward every sound, every glimmer of movement—it was as if the whole world had color again simply because she was in it.
"Come," he said finally. "Stay close."
They walked side by side through the market street, their footsteps blending into the pulse of the evening. XiaoQi's head darted in every direction, drinking in the chaos: a baker flipping sesame cakes, a woman with painted fans fluttering like butterflies, a boy chasing after his runaway kite.
"DongZe!" she gasped suddenly, tugging on his sleeve. "Look! Candied hawthorn sticks!"
He followed her gaze to a vendor turning bright red skewers over a charcoal brazier. "We are not here for sweets," he said without slowing.
"We're here to experience the city, remember? Sweets are part of the experience."
Before he could stop her, she darted off toward the stall. He let out a quiet sigh, his patience already thinning. "XiaoQi."
She turned, smiling triumphantly, two sticks in hand. "One for me, one for you."
He hesitated. "I don't eat food from street carts."
"Why not? Are you afraid of sugar?"
His tone flattened. "I'm cautious about unclean food."
"You're cautious about everything." She took a dramatic bite, crunching through the glossy sugar coating. "See? Not poisoned. Just sweet and perfect."
Her satisfaction was infectious. With a resigned breath, DongZe accepted the other skewer and bit into it. His brow furrowed slightly at the burst of sweetness and tartness, and she caught the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression.
"Well?" she asked, eyes sparkling.
"Acceptable," he said, but the faint warmth in his tone betrayed him.
They continued walking. XiaoQi darted from one stall to the next, marvelling at painted fans, silk ribbons, and tiny trinkets shaped like animals. She tried to mimic a street performer's dance and nearly tripped, catching herself with an unbothered laugh.
DongZe found himself watching more than he should. The way her laughter spilled freely, the light in her eyes when she talked to a craftsman.
"Do you ever get tired of being so proper?" she asked suddenly, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"Proper keeps me alive," he replied.
"Alive isn't the same as living," she said softly.
He didn't answer.
The game stall was tucked between two food vendors, the air thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and honeyed buns. Lantern light swayed overhead, casting gold across the wooden table where rows of tiny prizes glimmered in the warm glow.
XiaoQi's eyes brightened as she spotted it. "Oh! A ring-toss game!" she exclaimed, stepping forward like a child discovering treasure. "If I win, you owe me another outing."
DongZe raised a brow, his tone dry. "And if you lose?"
She twirled a ring between her fingers, her smile full of mischief. "Then I'll owe you something."
He folded his arms, watching her with that familiar mix of skepticism and reluctant indulgence. "Something vague and suspicious. Noted."
"Relax, Your Highness. It's just a game."
Her first toss missed the peg completely, clattering onto the table. She pursed her lips, adjusting her stance. The second ring arced through the air, landed squarely over the wooden pole, and spun once before settling perfectly in place.
"Ha!" she cried, throwing her arms up in victory. "You saw that!"
DongZe's mouth curved, almost imperceptibly. "Beginner's luck," he murmured.
"Admit it, I'm good."
"I'll admit you're persistent," he replied.
She grinned, tilting her head. "That's basically a compliment coming from you."
Before he could respond, she turned to the stall owner. "Do I get a prize?"
The old man chuckled, his eyes kind and amused. He rummaged through a small wooden box before producing a delicate silk rabbit charm, pale pink with a tiny bell tied to its ear. "For good fortune in love," he said, pressing it into her palm.
"Oh—how cute," XiaoQi said, her voice a touch higher than usual. She tied the charm around her wrist quickly, as if doing so might end the conversation faster.
DongZe's gaze lingered on the charm, then on her. "Love, hm?"
"It's just a trinket," she said too fast. "Don't overthink it."
His tone was mild, but his eyes were sharper than ever. "Do I look like someone who overthinks?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation.
They reached the edge of the river, where lanterns drifted lazily on the water. XiaoQi crouched beside the bank, her reflection shimmering beside the floating lights. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
DongZe stood a step behind her, hands clasped behind his back. "It's loud, crowded, and full of pickpockets," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
She turned, smiling faintly. "You can admit you like it, you know."
He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The lantern light painted gold along her cheekbones, catching in her eyes.
"Perhaps," he said quietly, "it isn't so terrible."
Her lips curved. "I'll take that as a confession."
"Take it as you will," he replied, but the faint smile that touched his mouth lingered longer than it should have.