It had been exactly three days since the incident in Princess Lian Zhi's chamber. To Lin Rui's surprise, the wide cut across his back had closed up with unnatural speed. He was starting to suspect that time, or perhaps biology, worked differently in this world. The wound that should have festered and throbbed for weeks was already fading into an itchy, pink scar. It was as if the story was impatient for him to get back to the plot.
Arkan, much to his own visible relief, had only been forced to wear the Khan's heavy mask for two days. By the third morning, Lin Rui was back in his own skin, dressed in the dark, stiff black and gold silks of the sovereign.
As he entered the Grand Hall, a guard quickly bowed before announcing his arrival.
"The Khan has arrived!"
A sea of officials, divided into the Left and Right ministries, dropped to their knees. Their colorful robes looked like a field of flowers being flattened by a cold wind. Lin Rui felt the weight of the "Khan's aura", that cold, domineering pressure he had written for the character, settling over his shoulders like a mountain.
He took his seat on the throne. Today, the seat beside him was empty. There was no Khatun Dowager lingering in his air like an annoying fly. She was likely nursing her pride or plotting in her own wing. Usually, her absence made the air feel lighter, but today, something felt off.
The Chancellor was there, standing at the head of the ministers.
Since arriving in this world, Lin Rui had barely spoken to the man. In his own book, the Chancellor was a key player, his presence crucial to the plot. After all, he was the one leading the revolt against him. Yet the Khan's direct interactions with him had been surprisingly limited. As if he were just a background, serving to tighten the story.
But today, the Chancellor wasn't just a quiet background.
He questioned every little thing, every petition, every decision he made on state matters. Even on personal matters that didn't concern him, like his own wedding. Why had the Chancellor suddenly brought it up?
"Your Majesty," the Chancellor said, bowing slightly, "for the stability of the realm, I believe it would be wise for you to be wed soon. To take a Khatun who may rule beside you."
The hall went silent.
Lin Rui's fingers tightened against the armrest of the throne.
Of all things.
"The people are restless. The lineage must be secured. I believe it is time we finalize the wedding dates with Lady Naram."
"A wedding," Lin Rui said in an even tone, "is not within your concern."
The Chancellor inclined his head. "Normally, no. But the Khatun Dowager is absent today. In her stead, I merely raise what must eventually be addressed."
He even suggested dates.
"I only think of the country, Your Majesty. A fall wedding would be auspicious."
Lin Rui's gaze sharpened. He knew exactly what a "fall wedding" meant. In the original plot, the wedding was the trigger. It was the peak of the tragedy. The moment the revolt began, where the palace turned into a slaughterhouse, and Kabil took the throne in a spray of blood.
The moment Princess Lian Zhi died.
The Chancellor wasn't suggesting a celebration, he was suggesting a deadline for a coup.
"I will discuss this with the Dowager," Lin Rui snapped, his tone ending the conversation. "The court is dismissed."
Walking back to his quarters, Lin Rui felt like a man walking toward a cliff. The "Author" in him was screaming that the plot was accelerating. He was tired. His back was itching under the silk, and the mask felt like a heavy iron around his face.
Then, he saw her.
Lian Zhi was standing near the intersection of the corridors. She looked small against the towering columns, her eyes scanning the passing servants. She was looking for Ruhan. Again.
Unfortunately for him, Arkan was not around to shield him this time. He sent his second-in-command to check on the border situation.
Lin Rui didn't stop, not that he could. He walked toward her with his head held high, his expression cold and indifferent.
"Your Majesty," she whispered, bowing low.
"Princess," he replied, sounding as indifferent as possible.
"I... I was looking for your attendant, Ruhan," she said. Her voice was trembling slightly. "He has not been seen for three days."
"I have many eunuchs, Princess. I cannot be expected to keep track of every low-born servant who fails to show up for his shift. If he is gone, he will be replaced."
He walked past her as though she were no more than a shadow in the corridor. Something not worth his time.
Lin Rui could feel her gaze fixed on his back like a dagger aimed straight at him. He knew she was not pleased with his answer. He kept walking until he reached the safety of his chamber. The moment the door clicked shut, he slumped against the wood.
"Phew... that was too close," he muttered, rubbing his chest.
The guilt made his chest feel tight. He quickly stripped off the heavy royal robes, tossing the mask onto the bed as if they hurt him on his skin.
He moved to the window and peeked through the wooden frame. Lian Zhi was gone.
He knew he should stay here. He knew Arkan was right. Distance was the only safety. But his mind kept replaying the way she looked in the hallway. Pale, worried, and lonely. His heart twitched.
So instead, he strode to his dresser and pulled the eunuch robes from the top. He told himself it was merely courtesy, a long overdue one. After all, he had been injured in her chambers. It was only polite to see her, to let her know he wasn't dead. Just a brief check-in. Nothing more.
With that justification, he quickly changed into his eunuch persona and stepped out the door.