Her tone was calm. Perfectly reasonable. Entirely logical. The only problem was that he was still smiling. That particular, patient, terrifyingly affectionate smile that said he had already decided to ignore every excuse she had just made.
Shu Mingye didn't say a word. He just stood there, watching her with quiet amusement. Then he stepped forward, caught her hand, and said, "Let's go."
"Don't you have things to do?" Linyue asked quickly, trying to remind him that he was a terrifying, important, and very busy king. Obviously not her personal escort. "You're probably very busy."
"I already took care of it," Shu Mingye replied smoothly. "Breakfast is important too."
And that was that. Once again, Linyue found herself being gently but firmly dragged by the Demon King across the hallway. By the time they reached her chamber, she was already regretting not digging a tunnel under the palace to escape when she had the chance. Shu Mingye, on the other hand, looked irritatingly pleased with himself. He even opened the door for her. With his own hand.
Progress, Linyue thought grimly.
As expected, the three usual suspects were already inside. Song Meiyu, He Yuying, and Shen Zhenyu were sitting around her table, sipping tea like they had been living there all along.
All three heads turned at once.
Song Meiyu's eyes lit up. "Sister Linyue! Where were you last night? Why did you not come back to your chamber?"
That was a dangerous question by any definition. Linyue opened her mouth to answer. Unfortunately, her brain hadn't finished processing a proper excuse yet. She was still running calculations for the least suspicious, least romantic, and definitely least pie-related explanation.
Too slow. Because Shu Mingye, in the most casual voice possible, decided to answer for her. "We slept together last night."
Silence. Utter, crushing silence.
Linyue's head snapped toward him so fast it almost hurt. She glared at him.
Across the room, He Yuying's teacup froze midair, stuck between the table and his mouth.
Shen Zhenyu blinked once. Slowly.
And Song Meiyu—
"WHAT?!" she shrieked. She shot halfway across the table, tea sloshing dangerously close to He Yuying's lap.
Linyue flinched. "We… he means we slept in the same room," she blurted. "Not… not like that! Just sleeping! Sleeping is a normal activity. Very innocent. Nothing happened. There were pillows. And… and respectful distance."
Shu Mingye tilted his head, his lips curving. "Respectful?"
Linyue gave him a tight-lipped glare that said "Do not test me."
He grinned even wider.
Linyue suddenly remembered the swamp. The cold, wet, smelly swamp she had once trudged through. Right now, she would have gladly let it swallow her whole again. Anything to escape this moment.
Song Meiyu, meanwhile, had already begun to glow with gossip-fueled delight. "Ohhh," she whispered, clutching her teacup with both hands. "So you finally—!"
"We did not," Linyue snapped, cutting the sentence in half before it could become illegal. With the most innocent expression she could muster, she smiled faintly and said, "We were just… discussing things. Important things. Like… diseases. And… cures. Then we slept."
Simple. Clean. Technically not a lie.
Shu Mingye naturally ruined everything with one sentence. "You forgot to mention the marriage part."
Clink.
Song Meiyu's teacup hit the table. Tea splashed everywhere. Somewhere outside, a bird flew headfirst into a tree.
"MARRIAGE?!" Song Meiyu screeched, her voice going up a full octave. "Sister Linyue, you're getting married?!"
Shen Zhenyu choked on his tea and had to cover his mouth to keep from spraying the table.
He Yuying's mouth hung open wide enough to catch a small fish. Tea dribbled from the corner of his lips like a broken fountain.
Linyue turned to glare at Shu Mingye, who just looked so pleased with himself. He dragged her further into the room and sat down comfortably. Linyue had no choice but to sit beside him, still being held hostage by his warm hand.
The other three were still staring.
Fine, Linyue thought. If they were going to stare, she might as well say something. She cleared her throat, and activated Maximum Nonsense Mode.
"Yes, marriage," she said. "A marriage between lotus seed pie and moon dumpling. My two favorite things. I'm curious what will happen if you combine them. Could be dangerous. Could be delicious. Either way, I support their union."
A full second of stunned silence hung in the air.
Shu Mingye slowly turned his head and stared at her like she was the crazy one. His stare was long, intense, and suspiciously thoughtful.
"So…" he said at last, lips twitching, voice low with amusement, "does that mean I'm the pie or the dumpling?"
Gasp.
Song Meiyu did it again. Loud, dramatic, and entirely theatrical. The poor teacup still sat abandoned on the table, its remaining contents dripping slowly onto the floor, forming a tragic little puddle.
Linyue froze. Her brain slammed into a solid wall. Very slowly, she turned her head to Shu Mingye. That smug grin on his face, that sparkle in his wicked eyes—he was clearly enjoying this far too much. She was speechless. Utterly defeated.
Shu Mingye leaned back, his grin sharpening. "Well, you're the Pie. So I must be the Dumpling, right?"
If her soul could leave her body, she was fairly certain it would have bolted by now.
And then—Knock knock.
Thank the heavens. Someone knocked on the door. Linyue launched herself out of the chair in joy. Freedom. Sweet, glorious freedom from this absurd conversation. She could escape, maybe even run laps around the palace to cleanse her mind. But she stopped halfway. Her eyes dropped to her hand.
Still in his. Still warm.
She stared at it, then up at him.
He looked back, completely innocent. Or at least pretending to be. "Come in," he said, not even making the slightest move to let go.
The door opened. Two maidservants stepped in, each carrying trays stacked high with food. They bowed politely, eyes carefully lowered. Linyue couldn't tell if they hadn't noticed the chaos in the room, or if they were just trained to ignore the sight of spilled tea, the three frozen faces, and the smug king holding her hostage by the hand.
Shu Mingye nodded, and the maids quietly went about their work. One wiped up the spilled tea and replaced Song Meiyu's forgotten cup. Another arranged tray after tray of steaming dishes on the table until the air smelled warm and mouthwatering. Soon, the table was filled with steamed buns, dumplings (of course), porridge, pickled vegetables, and yes, even a plate of lotus seed pie.
Linyue stared at it. She wasn't sure anymore if she wanted to marry it or throw it out the window.
Across the table, He Yuying was already helping himself to a steamed bun, completely forgetting they had just witnessed the verbal version of a marriage proposal using pastries. His priorities were clear. Food first. Scandal later.
Shen Zhenyu pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed quietly.
Meanwhile, Song Meiyu hadn't moved. She was still staring at Linyue. Slowly, as if each word weighed a thousand bricks, she said, "Sister Linyue… I will… give you my blessing."
Linyue's eyes went wide. Blessing?!
Shen Zhenyu's head snapped toward Song Meiyu like she had lost her mind. Then his gaze shifted to Linyue, then Shu Mingye, then back to Linyue again. His expression grew flatter by the second.
"I'm not giving my blessing," he said at last, voice dry. "…Yet."
He Yuying didn't even bother looking up from his bun. "Can we eat first?" he said through a mouthful.
Shu Mingye, still looking far too smug for someone who had just been compared to a dumpling, nodded. "Let's eat."
And just like that, breakfast began.
Linyue let out a quiet sigh, picked up her chopsticks, and began to eat. For a while, the only sounds in the room were clinking plates, soft sips of tea, and the occasional satisfied munch from He Yuying, who was clearly living his best life. Every few seconds, she could feel Shu Mingye's gaze flicking to her. Sneaky. Intermittent. Like he was trying to be subtle. He wasn't.
She took a deep breath and reminded herself: calm, composed, in control. Totally unaffected. Absolutely not about to glance at the shameless dumpling king sitting beside her.
…Until he leaned closer.
His face was maddeningly serious as his breath brushed her ear. His voice low, smooth, and completely without shame. "You're not eating your husband."