Lin Rui found Lian Zhi in the small garden in front of her chambers. She was sitting on a stone bench, staring at a patch of wild flowers with her shoulder hunched. She looked pale like a ghost.
"The flowers won't grow any faster if you stare at them, Your Highness."
Lian Zhi jumped, her head snapping toward him. When she saw him, the real him, her entire face lit up. It was like watching a candle being lit in a dark room.
"Ruhan!" she cried, stumbling to her feet. She ran to him, stopping just inches away, her hands hovering as if she wanted to touch him but was afraid he'd shatter. "You're alive. You're... are you okay? How's your back? Arkan said you were with him, but I was so scared—"
"I'm fine," Lin Rui said, trying to sound firm, but his voice gave way. He turned slightly to show her he could move. "It looked worse than it was. I'm a fast healer."
She let out a heavy sigh in relief.
"I saw the Khan," she whispered, her expression changing to a slight pout. "He was so cold. He said he didn't care if you were gone."
Lin Rui felt a pang of irony. I was the one who said that.
"He's the Khan," Lin Rui said gently. "He has a kingdom to run. He doesn't have time for one servant."
"And how about you?" Lin Rui asked in return. "Are you okay? Has Prince Kabil visited you again after that night?"
Lian Zhi shook her head, "No, he's been quiet after that. Maybe too frightened of the Khan's men," She said, smiling.
"Good." Ruhan was glad. He was the one making sure Kabil was too busy to bother her. He sent more women to his bed and more wine to his table.
They sat together on the bench. For a while, the palace vanished. The Chancellor's schemes, the chaos of the revolt, and the threat of the wedding all disappeared.
They spent the quiet afternoon talking about the garden, the chilling weather, and about nothing at all. Lin Rui let his guard down, laughing at a joke she made, and for a split second, he leaned closer to her as if her warmth drew him in.
The "distance" he had promised himself was gone.
"I'm sorry, Ruhan," Lian Zhi whispered suddenly.
Lin Rui tensed at how her tone changed from being light and cheerful to regret and sadness.
"For how I acted. For being so selfish and angry. I understand now. I saw the blood... I saw how close you came to never coming back."
Lin Rui opened his mouth to give his standard, polite response. But she shook her head, stopping him.
"I know the rules," she continued with a trembling voice. "I know why you drew that line. It makes sense. It's for survival." She took a shaky breath, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her silk robes. "But my heart doesn't care about the rules. It's been driving me crazy, Ruhan."
Lin Rui didn't say a word. He didn't know if he had to, or if he could.
She looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I—" She hesitated, "I like you, Ruhan. No. I love you. It sounds insane, I know. We're in this palace, in this mess... but I love you. And I don't say it because I expect us to run away or find a happy ending. I've seen the danger now. I know it's impossible. But—"
She moved closer, her presence overwhelming him. "I just need to know. Just once. Do you feel it too? Or am I alone in this?"
Lin Rui felt the ground tilting under him. The confession had been a shock, but the question that followed was a blade, cutting straight through his defenses.
He was the Author. He was supposed to be the one in control of the words. But right now, his brain couldn't process anything, his mouth couldn't even make a sound. He looked at her, and for the first time, the walls he built around himself crumbled. The distance he had fought so hard to maintain simply dissolved.
His lips were moving on their own. It's like he didn't have the power to stop what came next from his mouth.
"You aren't alone."
And now his entire body also started to move on its own. His hand reached out, cupping her cheek, thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "I love you too, Lian Zhi. More than I ever intended to. More than I should."
He knew he shouldn't. Not just because she's not real, a mere character in the story he wrote with his own hand. Not just because of their status in the palace, but because their fate demanded otherwise.
He must finish the story as it should, he must go back to his world, and he wanted to go back to his world. And for that…
…she must die.
A small, broken sob escaped her, but it was followed by a smile. The most beautiful thing he had seen since her laugh captivated him in the night of the festival, the exact moment he'd lost the fight against his heart. That single look, and the honesty sat between them, made him feel like his lungs had finally remembered how to take in a full breath.
For a few minutes, the silence was perfect.
Until Lian Zhi leaned her forehead against his. "This is enough," she murmured. "Knowing is enough for now."
Now Lin Rui couldn't breathe. His heart hammered violently, threatening to burst from his chest. His thoughts scattered, every nerve lit up with heat and tension. Being this close to her, feeling her forehead resting against his, drove him to the edge of madness. Even worse than all the kisses they've secretly shared before. His mind screamed and spun, yet all he could do was stand frozen, drowning in the intensity of it.
Everything else after that was a blur.
***
By the time he returned to his own chamber, he caught his reflection in a polished bronze mirror. He was smiling. A wide, genuine, foolish smile.
But the smile didn't last long.
This is not good, he thought, his stomach dropping. I failed. Again.
He closed the door and stood in the darkness of the Khan's suite. He felt a profound sense of loss. He realized that by admitting his feelings, he was no longer a writer observing a story. He was a man drowning in it.
The Chancellor's plan, the wedding, and the revolt were no longer just plot points. It was a threat to him, to Lian Zhi, and to his entire survival. Should he choose to stay on the course, even though it meant he had to let her die? Or protect her and change the story around, even if it meant he would be stuck in this dream forever?
He didn't remember how long he had been standing there, motionless. Finally, he sat at his desk and pulled a fresh piece of parchment toward him.
"I'm sorry, Lian Zhi," he whispered to the empty room. "But I can't stay here forever."
He dipped the brush in the ink and began to write the decree for the Royal Wedding. His hand was trembling, but he kept writing. He would marry Lady Naram in two weeks. He would be the Khan she hated, be the villain of her story, if it meant he could go back home.
As the ink dried, he realized the tragedy of it. The more she loved him, the faster he had to leave.