Chapter Text
Several days passed after the assassination attempt, but the atmosphere within the Capital had changed in ways most people could not see.
The officials still attended court. The merchants still opened their shops. The academy classes continued as usual.
Yet beneath the surface, something dangerous had begun moving, like a snake hidden beneath tall grass.
Waiting. Watching. Preparing.
Inside the Crown Prince’s residence, Koushin sat silently while Master Hao finished his latest report.
“The Moon Prince’s condition continues to improve.”
The news displeased him, not enough for anyone outside the room to notice.
Yet Master Hao had served him long enough to recognize the slight tightening of his fingers around the teacup.
Master Hao added, “Doctor Luomen apparently succeeded in removing most of the poison.”
Koushin looked toward the window. The moon was visible even before sunset, pale against the afternoon sky. “As expected.”
Master Hao hesitated. “There is another matter, Your Highness.”
Koushin raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“Our people have not found proof, but the evidence continues pointing toward Princess Shisui of Shi Clan.”
The Crown Prince immediately understood. The warning. The leak. The reason Rikuson and Lihaku had arrived at the perfect moment.
A long silence followed.
Finally, Koushin spoke. “Leave her alone, for now.”
Master Hao looked surprised. “Your Highness?”
“She is the Prime Minister’s daughter.” Koushin’s expression remained calm. “Touching her without proof would create more problems than it solves.”
Master Hao bowed. “As you command, sir.”
The advisor departed shortly afterward, leaving the Crown Prince alone with his thoughts.
Koushin felt events slipping beyond his control.
Princess Kan had rejected him.
Zuigetsu had survived.
The attack had failed.
And now more people seemed determined to protect the Moon Prince.
None of it was acceptable. None of it was part of the future he intended to create.
Yet there was one thing he still possessed.
Time.
As long as Zuigetsu’s true identity remained hidden, the game could continue. And Koushin fully intended to win it.
.
.
Meanwhile, in another section of the palace, Zuigetsu finally woke after days of recovery.
The poisoning had left him weaker than he cared to admit, even sitting upright required effort.
Gaoshun immediately appeared beside him. “You should still be resting.”
Zuigetsu smiled faintly. “I have rested enough.”
“No, sir.”
“I have, Gaoshun.”
“No, please!”
The answer came so quickly that Zuigetsu laughed. His shoulder hurt immediately afterward.
Gaoshun looked victorious. “I warned you.”
Before Zuigetsu could argue, another voice entered from the doorway.
“You should listen to him.”
Both men turned.
Maomao stood there.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Gaoshun wisely decided he had important business elsewhere. Extremely important business. Business that definitely did not exist moments earlier.
The door closed behind him. Silence settled between them.
Maomao stared at the injured man in front of her.
Zuigetsu stared back.
Neither seemed certain where to begin.
Finally, Maomao stepped closer. “You look terrible, Jinshi.”
“I was poisoned, Maomao.”
“I noticed.” A faint smile appeared on her lips.
To Zuigetsu, it was the most beautiful thing he had seen in days.
Then that smile disappeared.
Without warning, Maomao struck his arm. Not hard. Oh well, still hard enough.
“Ouch! Maomao?”
“You idiot!” Her voice trembled slightly. “You almost died.”
The words filled the room. Raw. Honest. Terrified.
Zuigetsu then realized she had been frightened. And suddenly every moment of pain felt worthwhile.
“I’m sorry.” The answer surprised both of them.
Maomao stared. “You apologized.”
“Should I not?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because princes never apologize.”
Zuigetsu laughed softly. “I suppose you’re right.”
A long silence followed. This one felt different. Warmer. More comfortable.
Eventually Maomao sat beside his bed.
The evening light slowly faded around them.
Finally, Maomao broke the silence. “There is something strange, Jinshi.”
Zuigetsu’s heart skipped. “What is it?”
She frowned. “I keep feeling like I have known you longer than I’ve actually known you.”
His pulse quickened. Every word mattered now. Every breath. Every glance.
“What makes you think that?”
Maomao looked toward the window. The moon had begun rising above the palace walls.
“I don’t know how to explain.” Her voice softened, “It happens whenever I look at you.”
Zuigetsu remained perfectly still.
Slowly, the distance between the truth and the lie they had both been living felt smaller than ever.
And though neither of them knew it yet, the moment was approaching.
The moment when promises made beneath a childhood moon would finally be remembered.
The moment when Maomao would learn that the man she loved and the prince she hated had always been the same person.
And when that truth emerged, every secret buried for ten long years would rise with it.
.
.
Maomao could not stop thinking about it. The feeling had followed her for days.
Every time she sat beside Jinshi. Every time he smiled at her. Every time he looked at her with that strange warmth in his eyes.
Something felt familiar. Painfully familiar.
As though she had forgotten something important. Something she should have remembered long ago.
One afternoon, while Zuigetsu was still recovering, Maomao decided to visit his Pavilion again.
She told herself it was merely curiosity. Nothing more. At least, that was the lie she chose to believe.
The pavilion was quiet when she arrived. Gaoshun wasn’t there. The attendants were nowhere to be seen.
Only a light breeze moved through the garden.
Maomao frowned. “Where did everyone go?”
She wandered deeper into the residence. Then stopped.
A room near the rear of the pavilion stood slightly open.
Inside were shelves. Boxes. Scrolls. The sort of room people used for storage.
Naturally, Maomao entered.
Curiosity had always been stronger than common sense.
The room smelled of old paper and dust.
She wandered between shelves until something caught her eye.
A wooden box. Simple. Carefully preserved.
Unlike everything else.
Almost instinctively, she opened it.
Letters. Dozens of them. Neatly stacked. Each one addressed to the same person.
Her.
Maomao frowned.
Slowly, she picked up the first letter.
The handwriting was clumsy. Childish. Unfamiliar.
Yet something tightened in her chest.
She unfolded it.
Maomao,
I learned to write today.
You promised we would write to each other.
So I am writing first.
Her fingers froze. She remembered. The promise. The garden. The moonlight. Ten years ago.
Heart pounding, she reached for another letter. Then another. And another.
Years of letters. Years of waiting. Years of silence.
All addressed to her. None answered.
Her vision blurred. “No—!!!”
A terrible realization began forming. One she desperately didn’t want to face.
Then something slipped from between the letters. A dried leaf. Pressed carefully between two sheets of paper.
The same leaf. The one she had dropped outside the Moon Pavilion ten years ago. The one she thought had been abandoned. The one she had spent hours making for him.
Her hands began trembling. “No. I can’t be..”
Suddenly the room didn’t feel steady anymore.
The memories returned. Not only the promise but everything else.
The garden. The goodbye. The kiss on her cheek. His vow that he would marry her one day.
And the conversation she overheard afterward. The conversation that destroyed everything.
Footsteps entered the room.
Maomao spun around.
Zuigetsu stood in the doorway. Still pale from the poison. Still recovering.
And immediately concerned. “Maomao?”
She couldn’t speak.
The letters remained in her hands.
Zuigetsu’s expression changed.
The moment he saw them was the moment he understood what she had found.
Silence filled the room. Heavy. Painful.
Years of misunderstandings standing between them.
At last Maomao whispered. “You wrote all these?”
Zuigetsu nodded. “Yes.”
Her voice shook. “For ten years?”
“Yes.”
“You never stopped?”
A faint smile appeared. A sad one. “I stopped after I realized you weren’t going to reply.”
The words hurt. Far more than she expected. Because she suddenly remembered every letter she had hidden away.
Every letter she had chosen not to answer. Every letter written by a boy she believed had never cared.
Tears began gathering in her eyes. “Then why—?”
Zuigetsu looked at her. Confused. “Why what?”
“Why did you write them?”
His expression softened. As if the answer were obvious. “Because I missed you, Maomao.”
The tears fell before she could stop them. “Then why did you say those things back then?”
Now it was Zuigetsu’s turn to freeze. “What things? What did I say?”
“The day I left.” Her voice cracked. “I heard you.”
The confusion slowly vanished from his face. Replaced by realization. Then horror.
“Maomao—??”
She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “You said you didn’t like me.”
A painful silence followed. “You said I was useful because of my father.”
Every word reopened an old wound. “You said I was fun to play with.”
The room became so quiet that neither could hear anything but their own breathing.
Finally—
Zuigetsu understood.
After ten years. After ten years of wondering. After ten years of unanswered questions.
He finally understood. “Oh, gods—!!”
He sat down heavily. Almost laughing. Almost crying. All because of one misunderstanding. One conversation. One moment.
“You heard the wrong thing.”
Maomao’s eyes widened. “What was wrong with it?”
Zuigetsu looked up, all masks vanished.
No Jinshi. No Moon Prince. Only him. Only Zuigetsu.
“I was speaking to Koushin on that day.”
Her heart stopped. “The Crown Prince?”
“Yes!” A bitter smile appeared. “He already suspected how important you were to me.”
Suddenly everything began falling into place. Every missing piece. Every unanswered question. Every strange moment.
“So—You were lying—”
“Yes, Maomao.” His answer came immediately. “I was trying to protect you.”
Maomao felt dizzy. “I thought—”
“I know.” His voice was gentle. Far too gentle. “I know what you thought.”
Tears continued falling down her cheeks.
And then—for the first time—she truly looked at him.
Not Jinshi. Not the Moon Prince. Both. The same person. Always the same person.
The same boy who kissed her cheek beneath the moon. The same boy who wrote letters for ten years.
The same man who carried her when she was hurt. The same man she had fallen in love with all over again.
“Jinshi—!”
A soft smile appeared. “My name is Zuigetsu.”
More tears escaped her. “You idiot!”
“Probably.”
“You should have asked me.”
“I wanted you to choose me first.” The confession broke something inside her. Because he had. He truly had. Without titles. Without power. Without obligations.
She chose Jinshi.
Not knowing Jinshi and Zuigetsu were the same man.
And suddenly ten years of hatred felt incredibly foolish.
Maomao crossed the room before she realized she was moving.
Then struck his chest. “You asshole—!”
“I have heard that before.”
“You deserved it.”
“Maybe.”
Then she wrapped her arms around him. Tightly. Like she was afraid he might disappear again.
Zuigetsu froze.
Then slowly returned the embrace.
Outside the Moon Pavilion, the evening moon rose quietly above the palace.
Exactly as it had ten years ago.
Only this time—there were no misunderstandings left between them.
Only truth. And the promise that had finally found its way home.
.
.
The reunion between Maomao and Zuigetsu did not remain a secret for long.
There were simply too many people who had suffered because of the lies surrounding the succession, the assassination attempt, and Koushin’s desperate determination to protect a position that had never truly belonged to him.
The first to act was not the Emperor, nor the Empress Dowager.
It was Great Commandant Kan Lakan.
The moment he learned the full truth from Zuigetsu, from Gaoshun, and from the reports surrounding the attack at Verdigris House, an anger unlike any he had shown in years settled over him.
Normally, Lakan was a man who buried his thoughts beneath composure and sarcasm, but this time the matter involved his daughter, and there was nothing in the Empire capable of making him more dangerous than a threat against Kan Maomao.
The attack itself was already grave enough. Someone had poisoned his daughter. Someone had nearly killed her.
But what truly enraged him was the realization that the assault had not been random.
It had been tied to politics, succession, and the struggle surrounding the throne.
And Maomao had become collateral damage.
That was something he would never forgive.
Three days after Zuigetsu recovered enough to leave his bed, Lakan appeared in the Imperial Court and demanded an audience with the Emperor.
Not requested. Demanded.
Even the ministers present understood the difference.
The Emperor, curious and slightly concerned by Lakan’s unusually serious demeanor, granted the request immediately.
The atmosphere inside the audience hall was tense from the moment Lakan entered.
The Emperor sat upon the throne.
The Empress Dowager was present.
Prime Minister Shishou stood among the senior officials.
Master Hao remained near the Crown Prince.
And beside the Emperor stood Koushin himself.
Lakan knelt.
Then rose.
Then looked directly at the throne. “Your Majesty.”
The Emperor immediately noticed the absence of humor in his voice. “You can speak freely.”
Lakan inclined his head. “Then I ask Your Majesty to clarify the matter of the succession once and for all.”
The hall became silent. Not quiet. Silent.
Several ministers visibly stiffened.
The Empress Dowager slowly lowered her teacup.
Koushin’s expression froze. Only slightly. But Lakan saw it. So did the Emperor.
Slowly, the Emperor’s gaze moved across the room.
From Lakan. To Koushin. To Zuigetsu. Back again. The old ruler understood immediately.
The moment he had hoped to avoid for decades had finally arrived.
“You know.” It wasn’t a question.
Lakan nodded. “Enough, Your Majesty.”
A dangerous stillness settled over the hall.
Shishou lowered his eyes.
Master Hao’s expression darkened.
Koushin’s hands tightened within his sleeves.
The Emperor sighed. Years seemed to settle upon his shoulders. Then the he finally rose.
His voice carried throughout the hall. “Zuigetsu is the son born to the Emperor and the Empress, Lady Ah-Duo.”
Shock swept through the court like a storm.
Several ministers actually gasped.
Others looked toward Zuigetsu in disbelief.
Some looked toward Koushin.
The truth that had remained hidden for years had been spoken aloud at last.
The Emperor continued. “Prince Koushin was raised as Crown Prince due to a mistake made at birth.”
Silence followed. Heavy. Unavoidable.
Every noble present understood the implications immediately. Every one of them.
And in that moment, all eyes turned toward Koushin.
The Crown Prince stood perfectly still. His face had gone pale.
Not because the truth surprised him. But because it no longer belonged to him alone.
The secret was gone. Gone forever.
The Emperor looked toward him. Then toward Zuigetsu. Pain was visible in his eyes.
Because regardless of blood, regardless of politics, he had raised both boys. Both were family. And now one had attempted to destroy the other.
Lakan stepped forward. “Your Majesty.”
The Emperor sighed. “I know.”
Lakan did not need to finish.
The assassination attempt.
Master Hao.
The political maneuvering.
The rejected marriage proposal.
Everything pointed in the same direction.
The Emperor slowly turned toward Koushin. “Did you know?”
The question echoed throughout the hall.
Everyone waited.
Koushin lowered his gaze, the perfect image of the Crown Prince cracked. And that silence became his answer.
Across the room, Shishou closed his eyes. The Prime Minister understood immediately that the game was over.
There would be consequences. Serious consequences. And no amount of influence could stop them now.
Yet among all the people involving in this matter, there was one person who would emerge unharmed.
Shisui.
The young woman who had overheard the conspiracy and chosen to save a life instead of protecting a secret.
The Emperor had already learned of her actions. So had Zuigetsu. So had Maomao.
And while others now faced judgment, Shisui found herself unexpectedly praised by nearly everyone involved.
.
.
Later that evening, when the court finally dispersed and the storm surrounding the throne began to settle, Maomao sat beside Zuigetsu beneath the moonlight in the palace gardens.
Neither spoke about succession. Neither spoke about politics. Neither wanted to.
For now, there were no misunderstandings between them. No hidden names. No unanswered letters. No promises broken by accident.
Only the quiet certainty that they had finally found their way back to each other.
Zuigetsu reached for her hand.
Maomao allowed him to take it.
And beneath the same moon that had witnessed their childhood promise so many years ago, the future no longer felt like something lost.
It finally felt like something waiting to begin.
.
.
The years that followed became some of the happiest in Imperial history.
After the truth of the succession was revealed before the court, the Emperor made his final decision.
Despite being born as the son of the Emperor and Lady Ah-Duo, Zuigetsu chose not to take the Crown Prince’s position by force.
The revelation shook the Empire, yet his refusal to seek power only earned him greater respect from ministers, generals, and commoners alike.
Koushin was removed from the line of succession for his involvement in the conspiracy against Zuigetsu.
Yet the Emperor still viewed him as a son, he spared his life, but Koushin was stripped of his authority and sent far from the Capital, where he would spend the rest of his days reflecting upon the choices that had cost him everything.
Master Hao received a far harsher punishment. His role in the assassination plot could not be ignored, and the court sentenced him accordingly.
Prime Minister Shishou resigned from his position shortly afterward.
Though many expected disgrace, he accepted responsibility for the failures within his household and chose to spend his remaining years quietly away from court politics.
Only Shisui emerged from the storm with honor.
The Emperor himself praised her courage for warning Rikuson and preventing a tragedy. What had begun as an act of conscience soon blossomed into something more.
To nobody’s surprise except their own, Shisui and Rikuson eventually found themselves spending more and more time together.
At first they insisted they were merely discussing important matters.
Then they insisted they were friends. Then they insisted everyone was imagining things. No one believed them.
Especially not Maomao.
Years later, when their wedding was announced, Maomao laughed so hard she nearly fell from her chair while Rikuson silently wondered how it had become his life.
As for Lihaku, he never stopped teasing them.
Some things simply never changed.
Meanwhile, in the palace gardens beneath the moon, another story reached its ending.
Or perhaps its true beginning.
Maomao stood quietly among the flowers she had planted herself.
She had become one of the most beloved figures in the palace, though she still spent far more time with herbs than with nobles.
Even after marrying into the Imperial Family, she continued studying medicine, helping physicians, and driving court officials into despair, whenever she snuck experimental plants into places they definitely did not belong.
Some habits were permanent.
Footsteps approached from behind.
She didn’t turn around. “I can hear you.”
“Then my stealth training has been wasted.”
Maomao rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t very effective to begin with.”
A pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Familiar. Warm. Home.
Zuigetsu rested his chin lightly atop her head.
The title of Moon Prince belonged to him.
But now she held one as well.
Moon Princess.
The title he had promised her ten years ago beneath a childhood moon.
A promise interrupted by misunderstanding. Delayed by pain. Tested by fate.
Yet somehow fulfilled in the end.
“You’re smiling,” Zuigetsu said.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“Maybe a little.”
“A little?”
Maomao finally turned to look at him. “A very little.”
Zuigetsu laughed. The sound still made her heart race. Even after all these years. Especially after all these years.
“You know,” she said quietly, “you owe me ten years.”
He smiled. “Of course I know that.”
“I’m still angry.”
“You are.”
“You were an idiot.”
“Yours.”
Maomao nodded in satisfaction. Then kissed him anyway.
Because some grievances were impossible to maintain forever.
When they separated, Zuigetsu gently rested his forehead against hers.
Above them, the moon shone brightly across the palace gardens.
The same moon that had watched two children become friends.
The same moon that had witnessed heartbreak, separation, conspiracies, and reunions.
The same moon that had waited patiently while they found their way back to one another.
This time, however, there would be no misunderstandings.
No secrets. No goodbyes. Only tomorrow. And the countless tomorrows after that.
Together. Beneath the eternal moon.
.
.
The Imperial Palace had changed over the years.
New gardens had been planted. New officials had entered court. Children who once ran through corridors had grown into adults with responsibilities of their own.
Yet some things remained exactly the same.
“Maomao?”
“No!”
Zuigetsu sighed. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“You were going to ask me not to bring poisonous plants into the palace nursery.”
The Moon Prince looked toward the row of suspicious-looking herbs lined neatly beneath a window.
“You already did it.”
“They’re educational.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
“And I was right.”
The argument ended there because neither of them could remember a single occasion when Zuigetsu had successfully won one.
Several years of marriage had taught him many things.
One of those things was to choose his battles carefully.
Unfortunately, he still wasn’t very good at it.
A child’s laughter suddenly echoed through the garden.
Both turned.
A little boy ran toward them, carrying an armful of flowers he had almost certainly picked without permission.
His sister followed close behind, trying unsuccessfully to stop him.
“Father!”
The boy crashed directly into Zuigetsu’s legs.
The Moon Prince’s dignified image immediately disappeared.
As always.
“You were supposed to be studying.”
“I was.”
“Then why are you covered in dirt?”
The child considered the question. “I don’t know.”
Maomao laughed. “That answer sounds familiar.”
Zuigetsu narrowed his eyes at his wife.
She looked extremely pleased with herself.
Nearby, the little girl quietly handed Maomao a flower.
Unlike her brother, she had inherited her mother’s intelligence.
And unlike her mother, she possessed common sense.
“Thank you.”
The girl smiled. Then immediately pointed toward her brother. “He climbed a tree again.”
Traitor.
The boy looked betrayed.
Maomao, meanwhile, looked proud. “Good.”
Zuigetsu buried his face in his hands.
.
.
Elsewhere within the Capital, another household was considerably less chaotic.
Shisui sat beneath a pavilion while reading through a report.
At least she attempted to.
The effort became much more difficult when Rikuson quietly placed a cup of tea beside her.
“You have been working for three hours.”
“That long?”
“You promised to rest.”
“I will rest.”
“You always say that.”
Shisui finally looked up.
Years had passed, yet some things about Rikuson remained unchanged. His calm patience could withstand almost anything.
Almost.
Including her.
“I’ll rest in a minute.”
“You said that an hour ago.”
Shisui smiled. “You still keep track?”
“I married you, Shisui.”
“A dangerous decision, then.”
“The consequences were immediate.”
She laughed and reached for his hand.
Even after all these years, moments like this still felt simple.
Comfortable. Like home.
.
.
Not far away, Lihaku sat surrounded by several young officers while enthusiastically retelling the story of how Maomao once dragged the future Moon Prince underneath a bed.
For the thousandth time.
Each version somehow became more dramatic than the last.
“And then,” Lihaku declared, “His Highness looked completely doomed.”
“You have told this story before, Lihaku.”
“Have I?”
“Many times.”
“Oh shit!”
“Why you keep telling the same story, dude?”
Lihaku smiled proudly. “Because it remains funny.”
.
.
That evening, as the palace settled into quiet, Maomao stood alone on a balcony overlooking the gardens.
The moon hung high above the Capital.
Bright. Beautiful. Unchanging.
The same moon that had watched two children become friends.
The same moon that had witnessed a misunderstanding that lasted ten years.
The same moon that had watched them find each other again.
Arms slipped around her waist. Familiar arms. Warm arms. Home.
“You disappeared.”
“I was thinking.”
Zuigetsu rested his chin atop her head. “Dangerous.”
“According to who?”
“According to everyone.”
She rolled her eyes.
The silence between them felt easy now. Comfortable. Earned.
“My Moon Princess,” Zuigetsu said quietly.
Maomao smiled.
Even after all these years, hearing those words still made her heart flutter. “You took long enough.”
“Um hm.”
“You owe me ten years.”
“You said that before.”
“And at least twenty letters.”
“Only twenty?”
She pretended to think. “Fine. Forty.”
Zuigetsu laughed and kissed her forehead.
Below them, the palace lights sparkled across the night.
Above them, the moon shone softly.
And beneath that eternal moon, surrounded by family, friends, and a future they had fought hard to claim, Maomao and Zuigetsu stood together at last, knowing that this time there would be no more misunderstandings, no more separations, and no more waiting.
Their story, at long last, had its happy ending.
— THE END —