Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead.

Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.

Just walk beside me, and be my friend."

---

The creation of these cursed swords has spread too much irreparable destruction across different fields of the alliance. Many souls have perished under the gaze of greed, and too many clones of the weapons are hidden away. This has left the nation of Zhuming, the origin of these swordsㅡ crafted by the king, himself, be left with distrust and animosity from other countries.

Attempts to solve the declining honor of the country cost the King and Queen's life; the King was dethroned and publicly executed, and the Queen lost her life after giving birth to the only heir. Leaving Zhuming with only the princess and the former king to reclaim authority.

An arrangement was made between two nations with strong ties. A pedestal for a new beginning for Zhuming and its natives.

"Once the Luofo and the Zhuming's heirs come of age, they will be wedded to each other."

---

"So, what you’re telling me is that I’ve been sold off because Father made a foolish mistake, and Grandfather happens to be dearest friends with the King of Luofu?" The young girl with navy hair remarked dryly, her golden eyes narrowing. "I’m engaged, and no one thought it important to inform me?"

"You are the future leader of the Zhuming Kingdom, Your Highness," the head maid, Lingsha, said softly, her voice calm as she gently combed through the princess’ short hair. "I am deeply sorry, Princess Yunli, but this arrangement is vital. Our alliance with the Luofu must be strengthened. Both nations pledged this union when you were born."

Within the Princess’ chambers, two figures occupied a grand bed adorned with opulent red sheets that shimmered like fire. One, an older girl dressed in formal attire, carried herself with graceful composure. The other, much younger, sat scowling in her silken dress, her expression at odds with the elegance of her appearance.

"Just because I’m a minor—still am, mind you—doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be allowed to give consent for something this monumental," Yunli muttered, her annoyance cutting through the air as she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Lingsha sighed softly. "Your Highness, the fate of our people rests on this union. It is the only way to ensure their well-being."

Before the maid could finish weaving her hair into an intricate braid, Yunli abruptly turned, causing her hair to fly loose. With a determined pout, she gazed up at Lingsha. "I know, but isn’t there some other way?" Her golden eyes sparkled with a mischievous charm, clearly attempting to sway the maid’s resolve.

Lingsha, however, remained steadfast. "Princess Yunli, a promise made is a promise honored. Besides," she continued with a gentle smile, "you have many years yet before the arrangement is fulfilled. And His Highness, the Prince of Luofu, is said to be most noble—amber eyes as distinguished as your own. Would that not make a fine match?"

Yunli tilted her head, her youthful innocence evident. "Why would I care about that?"

Lingsha chuckled lightly, attempting to coax the child’s imagination. "To preserve the royal bloodline, of course. With His Majesty Huiyan and yourself as the last of our lineage, it is imperative to carry on the legacy."

For a fleeting moment, Lingsha believed her words had struck a chord. But then, to her great shock, Yunli replied with an almost regal defiance, "This bloodline ends with me."

"Your Highness—Princess! Come back here this instant!" Lingsha called out in dismay as Yunli darted from the chamber, her laughter echoing through the gilded halls.

Chapter Text

"We are late, late, late! " Lingsha exclaimed, her tone fraught with urgency. "We have precisely twenty minutes for your royal fitting before rushing to your speech at the Historical Society!"

The princess’ chamber was a whirlwind of activity as five maids darted about, diligently preparing Yunli for her long and grueling day ahead.

"And after that," Lingsha continued, barely pausing to breathe, "we must immediately make haste to the Horticultural Society tea. Then, it’s your mathematics lessons, geography, politics, and management—oh, and let’s not forget the evening’s council meeting!" Her list seemed endless, and Yunli, sitting at her desk, could do nothing but let her forehead meet the mountain of discarded drafts for her fast-approaching speech. With a resigned groan, she allowed the maids to handle her every need, acrimoniously enduring their fussing.

Once her attire was adjusted to perfection and the maids dismissed, only Lingsha and the princess remained. The head maid’s sharp eyes caught Yunli’s frequent glances at her desk, now meticulously cleared. The absence of the cluttered drafts only served as a stark reminder of the task looming over the young royal.

"You still have two months, Princess," Lingsha assured, her tone firm but gentle. "There is no need to rush yourself."

Yunli muttered something incoherent in reply, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Choosing to ignore it, Lingsha called out for the princess’ personal knight. "Sushang, please escort Her Highness to the carriage."

"At once, Madame!"

Though only a few years older than the princess, Sushang had been tasked with guarding Yunli since four years ago. Many speculated that her appointment was due to her ties to the royal doctor of the Yaoqing, but Yunli was simply grateful to have someone close to her age by her side.

As they strolled through the palace’s opulent corridors toward the waiting carriage, Sushang listened patiently to the princess’ complaints.

"I swear, I’ll burn every stack of paper or document I see today," Yunli declared with exaggerated drama.

"You won’t," Sushang replied with a lighthearted giggle.

"Fine, maybe I won’t. But I’ll certainly be thinking about it," Yunli huffed before launching into another tirade. "It’s torture! They expect me to deliver the most extraordinary, awe-inspiring speech of the century, but I’m given no time to focus because of all the lessons and events Grandfather insists on scheduling for me!" She clenched the fabric of her dress in frustration. "And then, after all this, I’m to be married. Just the thought of it makes it even harder to concentrate!"

Sushang, sensing her charge’s exasperation, offered a playful quip. "My only advice, Your Highness, is that you simply run away from all your responsibilities." She tittered at her own jest, oblivious to the fact that Yunli had abruptly stopped in her tracks, just steps away from the waiting carriage. "But it’s not as if you could actually do that."

Wait a moment.

Yunli’s thoughts raced. Why didn’t I think of that before? Running away is risky... and temporary. But is it worth considering?

"Princess Yunli?" Sushang’s voice broke through her reverie, accompanied by a hand waving before her face. Snapping out of her thoughts, Yunli shook her head to clear her mind.

"Forgive me," she murmured, accepting Sushang’s outstretched hand and stepping into the carriage. As the door closed behind her, she allowed herself a small, wry smile.

How absurd. Running away, just because I don’t want to write a speech? No, the consequences far outweigh the benefits.

But the seed of the idea had been planted, and it lingered, quietly taking root.

Meanwhile, in another setting...

"You lost, again," declared a boy with golden locks and piercing amber eyes, his wooden sword pointed triumphantly at his opponent. In the courtyard of the Loufu Palace, the prince stood tall beside a younger boy with fiery red hair, who struggled to catch his breath.

"Is something bothering you, Yanqing?" the red-haired boy asked as he staggered to his feet, brushing dirt from his tunic. Despite his fatigue, his voice carried a note of concern. He glanced at the prince of the Loufu, whose amber gaze had drifted toward the towering palace windows, where the king's throne loomed beyond. "Nervous about your ceremony? It’s still two months away! And didn’t you already finish your speech?"

Yanqing chuckled lightly, the sound both amused and weary. "I’m impressed, Luka. How did you guess I was distracted? Was my performance in battle so lackluster that it betrayed me?"

Rolling his eyes, Luka retorted, "This is our twelfth spar just this morning! You usually call it quits by the fifth—seventh at most. Something’s clearly wrong."

The prince sighed, lowering his sword. "Apologies. Let’s return to the palace."

As they strolled through the palace gardens, Luka's curiosity got the better of him. He pestered Yanqing, determined to uncover the source of his unease.

Yanqing had known Luka since they were children. Their fathers had been close friends, and through some twist of fate, Luka—despite not being of noble birth or long-lived like Yanqing—had become his chaperon. Time had transformed the boy who once barely reached Yanqing’s shoulder into a young man who now stood taller than the prince himself.

Eventually, Yanqing broke the silence, a reluctant laugh escaping his lips. "You’re right. I am nervous. But it’s not the ceremony that troubles me..." His voice faltered, leaving the rest unsaid.

Luka’s expression shifted to one of dawning realization. "Oh! It’s about your wife !"

"Please do not refer to her as such," Yanqing shot back sharply. "We are not yet married."

"Yet," Luka teased, only to shrink under the prince’s withering glare.

Yanqing sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I’m not interested in such matters. It’s a shame to marry this way—bound to a stranger. It feels... wrong."

Luka nodded solemnly, his sympathy genuine. "It truly is a pity. If only you could meet her before the wedding..."

"I’ve already asked Father for that," Yanqing admitted, his tone laced with frustration. "But the schedules won’t align, and he insists it would require permission from the entire alliance to arrange such a meeting. I don’t want to trouble him further."

Luka mulled over this, his brows furrowed in thought. Suddenly, his face lit up with excitement. "Have you tried sending letters to the princess?"

Yanqing sighed again, this time with a tinge of bitterness. "I stopped sending letters years ago. I never received any replies. Either she never saw them, or..." He grimaced. "...or she ignored them. If it’s the latter, then I’d rather not marry someone so discourteous."

Feeling the weight of his friend’s disappointment, Luka racked his brain for solutions. "What if we could... um... no, wait, that wouldn’t work. Maybe we could—ah, never mind."

Yanqing listened with half-hearted interest until one suggestion caught his attention.

"What if we go to Zhuming ourselves?" Luka blurted out. "Not officially, of course! Just... as travelers. Everyone’s entitled to take a vacation, right? Maybe you could—wait, no, that’s ridiculous—"

"Brilliant!" Yanqing interrupted, his amber eyes gleaming with sudden determination.

Luka blinked, taken aback. "Wait, what?"

"Let’s do it," the prince declared, grabbing Luka’s arm. "We’ll go to Zhuming."

"Are you serious?!"

"Entirely," Yanqing replied, already dragging Luka back toward the palace with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Whether it was desperation, nerves, or sheer exhaustion that fueled his decision, he wasn’t certain. But for the first time in weeks, the prince felt a spark of excitement for the future.

Chapter Text

"...and I would like to end this by once again congratulating the Horticultural Tea Society for their remarkable newly-discovered flavors, which the king favors so much." Yunli smiled gracefully, offering a practiced curtsy. Applause echoed through the garden, bouncing off the surrounding trees, as she returned to her seat with poise.

Beside her designated chair stood Sushang, clapping enthusiastically. "Well done, Princess!" the knight beamed. "That's one down from your schedule!"

Yunli suppressed a groan, knowing it would be unseemly for the royal heir to express frustration with so many prying eyes. Instead, she closed her eyes briefly as she sat, taking a moment to center herself. Her reprieve was short-lived, however, as Sushang added cheerfully, "Oh, by the way, Ms. Lingsha informed me you have another speech coming up. This time, for the opening of a new shipping dock—"

"Of course," Yunli muttered under her breath, her tone laced with resignation. Discreetly rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Another speech? That’s the seventh this week! I’m going to get an earful from my literature tutor for this."

"Speaking of speeches..." A familiar voice interrupted, warm but firm. Yunli and Sushang turned to see an elderly couple approaching, hand in hand. The man, with slightly graying hair and glasses that complemented his royal blue suit adorned with gold accents, smiled knowingly. "How is your speech for the crowning ceremony coming along, my lady?"

Recognizing them instantly, Yunli and Sushang stood and offered deep bows. "Duke Jiangou, Duchess Zou Mei," Yunli greeted with a polite smile. "It’s a surprise to see you here. Did you come to pick up your daughter?" she asked, though the question was merely a formality, attempting to divert the topic.

The married couple is closest to the royal family— their daughter unfortunately too young for Yunli to bond with. Jiangou used to work under Yunli's grandfather during his time as king, and up until now, when the former king was is a dilemma, he's one of the advisers her grandfather calls for.

The Duke chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Partially, yes. But truthfully, I heard you would be attending this gathering and thought I’d take the opportunity to check in on you. It has been far too long, Princess. With your ceremony approaching, you’ve been so busy!" He laughed, a deep, hearty sound. "Ah, how I remember seeing you run around the palace when you were younger. The halls are so quiet now when I visit the old king."

Yunli joined in his laughter, though it was tempered by the faintest hint of irony. She couldn’t help but think how the Duke, skilled as he was at dispensing parental advice, had hardly been a father to his own daughter. Beside her, Sushang’s mind wandered as she imagined a younger, more mischievous version of the princess— a side she had never seen.

"Oh, but I believe that’s a good thing, dear," Duchess Zou Mei chimed in, her yellow dress radiating elegance under the soft sunlight. Her light hair was arranged in an intricate updo, perfectly complementing her graceful demeanor. "Our princess is stepping into her responsibilities as a leader, as she should. She is preparing for the highest place in the hierarchy." Her voice dripped with sentiment, though Yunli braced herself for what she knew would follow.

"And," the Duchess continued, her tone taking on a pointed sweetness, "it won’t be long before she begins practicing to be the perfect wife."

Yunli’s composure faltered for the briefest of moments— her eyes widening slightly before she quickly masked her reaction. The duchess, oblivious to the subtle shift, carried on.

"With the prince hailing from the strongest nation in the alliance, you must feel the pressure, right, Princess?"

No, Yunli thought. But I do now.

-

"This is very well-written, Your Highness," the tutor remarked, handing the neatly written sheet of paper back to the young prince. "I am certain His Majesty, the King, will approve of this."

Yanqing’s face lit up at the praise. "Thank you," he said, bowing slightly before excusing himself. Without wasting a moment, he turned and began heading to the throne room, his footsteps light with anticipation.

"This is it! Our plan is in motion!" Luka exclaimed, trailing behind him with barely contained excitement. According to their strategy, if the King approved Yanqing's most important essay yet—the speech for his crowning ceremony—the prince would request a well-deserved reward: a vacation to the nation of Zhuming.

As they neared the towering doors of the throne room, Yanqing paused, inhaling deeply to steady himself. His free hand clutched the edges of the parchment a little tighter. Knocking softly, he called out, "Father?"

Moments later, one of the knights stationed at the entrance opened the grand doors. The armored figure bowed low before stepping aside, revealing the majestic throne room bathed in soft golden light. Seated at its heart was Jingyuan, ruler of the Xianzhou and Yanqing’s father, who exuded a composed yet commanding presence. His piercing amber gaze softened as it fell on his son.

"My boy," Jingyuan greeted warmly, his voice resonating through the chamber. He inclined his head slightly toward Luka, acknowledging the boy’s presence. Luka, in turn, bowed respectfully. "Is something the matter?"

Yanqing stepped forward with a sheepish smile, waving his free hand as if to downplay the moment. "I just wanted to show you the speech I’ve prepared for my crowning ceremony."

Jingyuan raised a brow, a faint flicker of curiosity crossing his face. "Oh? Done already?" He leaned back on his throne, crossing his legs. "I’m impressed. You’re far more diligent than I ever was at your age." A low chuckle escaped his lips as he reminisced. "When it came time for me to prepare my speech, my tutors had to chase me down the palace halls and lock me in my chambers to get me to focus. Of course," he added with a sly grin, "they never appreciated my impromptus."

Yanqing and Luka couldn’t help but snicker at the image of a younger, more mischievous Jingyuan. The King gestured for his son to approach, and Yanqing stepped closer, his confidence faltering only slightly as he handed over the carefully written speech.

As Jingyuan took the parchment, Yanqing felt a flutter of nerves tighten his chest.

It’s alright. The tutor liked it. Luka said it was fine, even if he shamelessly called it boring.

But boring isn’t necessarily bad, is it?

Luka, sensing Yanqing’s tension, raised a thumbs up from behind the prince— a silent but encouraging gesture.

Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the soft rustle of parchment as Jingyuan read. The occasional hum of acknowledgment or nod from the King was the only indication he was fully immersed in the speech’s contents.

Yanqing stood frozen, his eyes darting between the paper in Jingyuan’s hands and Luka, who had started miming exaggerated confidence to make him laugh. It worked, a little. Still, he couldn’t shake the sense that this moment, however small it seemed, was a stepping stone to something greater.

The parchment in Jingyuan's hand lowered, signaling he had finished reading. He looked at Yanqing with a fond smile. "As expected, my son is indeed one of the finest writers the Xianzhou has seen," he began.

The young prince's face lit up, his confidence swelling. Luka grinned, barely restraining a celebratory cheer. This was the moment to move forward with their plan.

But then Jingyuan’s smile faltered ever so slightly, his brows furrowing in thought. "However..." he added, the single word hanging in the air like a gong reverberating through the throne room.

Yanqing’s smile froze. "However?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. Luka visibly tensed beside him, his earlier excitement fading into concern.

The King leaned forward, his expression both thoughtful and stern. "Your words are polished, my son. Eloquent, precise. But..." Jingyuan tapped the parchment lightly, "they feel distant. They lack a spark— a sense of authenticity. It's as though you’ve written this not for your people, but for their approval."

Yanqing blinked, stunned. "But Father, I—"

"I’m not saying your speech isn’t good," Jingyuan interrupted, his tone gentle yet firm. "It is. But it feels too practiced. Too... perfect. It doesn't speak from the heart."

Yanqing stood in silence, his mind racing to process the critique. Luka, sensing the prince’s hesitation, stepped forward. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, Yanqing worked tirelessly on this. He’s simply trying to uphold the image of a prince— a future ruler."

Jingyuan’s gaze softened as he looked at the two boys. "I don’t doubt his diligence, nor his intentions. But that’s precisely the issue. Yanqing, you’ve spent so much time being the perfect prince— diligent, obedient, disciplined— that you’ve never truly allowed yourself to live. How can you speak to your people’s hearts when you’ve never truly felt the world they live in?"

The words struck Yanqing deeply, though he didn’t dare show it. Luka, however, seized the opportunity. "Then let him experience it," he suggested, his voice bold yet measured.

Jingyuan raised an eyebrow, curious but skeptical. "What are you suggesting, Luka?"

Luka stepped forward confidently. "Let Yanqing step outside the palace— no guards, no formalities. Let him see the world as you once did. You’ve told us countless stories about how you snuck out as a boy, how those experiences shaped the ruler you are today."

Jingyuan leaned back on his throne, stroking his chin in thought. Luka pressed on. "You’ve trained us both, Your Majesty. You’ve seen our skills firsthand. I promise to protect him. And I’ll make sure he returns safely."

The King’s expression remained unreadable, but Yanqing could sense his father’s resolve softening, "Then I'll inform the knights to let you wander around the Xia—" Before Jingyuan could continue, Yanqing took a deep breath and spoke up.

"Father," he said, his voice steady but earnest, "if I were to wander the Xianzhou, I wouldn’t be able to truly let my guard down. Everywhere I go, I’ll be recognized as the prince. People will bow, adjust their behavior, or whisper behind my back. I’ll still be... the prince. I’ll never know what it’s like to be one of them."

Jingyuan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no anger— only contemplation.

Yanqing hesitated for a moment before continuing, "But if I were to travel to another place, let's say... Zhuming, no one would know me there. I could experience life as you once did—  free from titles, expectations, and the walls of the palace. I could see the world for myself. And maybe... I could find the spark you’re looking for."

The throne room fell silent as Jingyuan studied his son. Luka stood by, holding his breath.

Finally, Jingyuan exhaled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?" Not sure if he caught on their ulterior motive.

Yanqing nodded firmly.

Jingyuan glanced between the two boys. "Very well," he said at last. "I’ll grant you this opportunity. But only under the condition that Luka accompanies you at all times— and that you both return safely."

The two boys exchanged a look of triumph, their excitement barely contained. Luka couldn’t resist a victorious fist pump, while Yanqing bowed deeply, his heart pounding with anticipation.

"Thank you, Father," Yanqing said sincerely.

Jingyuan’s gaze softened further as he looked at his son. "You’ve earned this chance, my boy. Use it wisely."

And just like that, the plan was back in motion. This journey to Zhuming wasn’t just about adventure— it was Yanqing’s chance to find himself.

-

"Did I hear that right?" Princess Yunli’s voice rose with disbelief as she turned to Sushang, pacing the length of her chamber with hurried steps. The two had just returned from yet another addition to her already-crammed schedule, courtesy of her latest tutor.

It had only been a day since her meeting with the Duke and Duchess, and yet this morning, Lingsha had greeted her with an unexpected—and unwelcome—announcement:

"How to Be the Perfect Wife" lessons.

Apparently, the Duke had taken it upon himself to discuss matters with her grandfather. Yunli had begrudgingly endured the lesson, which, mercifully, only lasted thirty minutes. Now, the tutor had left, but the experience lingered like an unwelcome shadow.

"Which part?" Sushang asked, her tone laced with dry humor as she reclined against the edge of a writing desk. "The fact that you now have a class on how to be wife material? Or the part where you have to do it all over again tomorrow? Because trust me, watching that unfold was something I’ll never forget."

Yunli rolled her eyes, though a faint giggle escaped her lips despite her frustration. "Neither, actually." Her voice softened as she rubbed her temples. "It’s the part about my speech being unfinished."

At that, Sushang straightened, her teasing demeanor replaced with a flicker of concern. "You mean... the one for your coronation?"

Yunli nodded, sighing deeply.

"Oh, dear Princess," the tutor had exclaimed, her hands clasped tightly together. "You must compose your speech without delay! If your words remain unwritten, it will ruin your coronation! You wouldn’t want that, especially since it’s so important that your marriage depends on it."

Sushang, who had been leaning idly against the wall, perked up at this. "Wait, wait," she interrupted, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What do you mean by its effect on her marriage?"

The tutor had turned to the pigtailed knight with a look of mild surprise, as though the answer should have been obvious. "Oh, my darlings," she began with a knowing smile, "Princess Yunli’s crowning doesn’t merely grant her power. It bestows her with certain rights as well— one being the right and legality to marry."

She paused for emphasis before continuing, "Now, while a blank speech wouldn’t stop the ceremony entirely, delivering an unimpressive one would tarnish the memory of such a grand occasion. Surely, Princess Yunli wouldn’t want to look back on her coronation and feel regret, would she?"

"Oh, that," Sushang said now, recalling the tutor’s words with a wry smile. "What about it?"

Yunli turned to her knight, and a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes—a look that instantly sent shivers down Sushang’s spine.

"I was just thinking..." Yunli began, her tone slow and deliberate.

"The ceremony may continue without a speech," she mused, "but will it still continue if the speaker isn’t there?"

Sushang froze, her mouth opening and closing as the weight of the princess’ words sank in. "Yunli," she finally managed, her tone caught somewhere between panic and disbelief. "You can’t be serious."

"I really detest the idea of marriage."

Chapter Text

“So,” the red-haired lad whistled, hands resting behind his head, “this is the famed land of Zhuming.”

Beneath the starskiff's glass windows unfolded a breathtaking sight: an enormous golden lotus, its petals carved with intricate detailing and unfurled around a towering central hull, shimmered beneath the light of a distant blue star. The flagship’s brilliance alone commanded the attention of even the most seasoned traveler. Unlike the serene elegance of the Luofu—renowned for its healing arts and gentle hospitality—Zhuming greeted them with raw energy, bold craftsmanship, and a reputation for unmatched weaponry.

The moment the starskiff landed, Luka disembarked first with an eager bounce to his step. Yanqing followed, less enthused.

“This entire marriage ordeal…” the young prince muttered under his breath as he tugged on his blue hooded coat, “it feels like a double-edged sword.”

His eyes scanned the bustling port. Around every corner, civilians—young and old—engaged in lively spars with real weapons, as if it were no more alarming than a casual conversation.

One corner caught his eye in particular. A child, wielding a slender blade, launched it at an adult mid-duel. The man dodged with ease.

“Watch out!” someone shouted as the blade veered off course, heading straight toward a courier balancing an armful of stacked crates. Before Luka or Yanqing could intervene, the courier calmly swatted the blade aside with one swift motion, deflecting it harmlessly to the ground.

“Again?” the courier sighed, shaking his head in mock dismay; more disappointed at the weak attack rather than being angered that his neck was at stake. “If you're going to throw blades like that, at least make them worth dodging.”

Yanqing stood frozen. The Luofu demanded permits, protocols, and designated arenas for sparring, usually among knights or officials. But here? Here, it was chaos. Glorious, unapologetic chaos. And somehow, no one seemed alarmed.

Luka grinned, already recovering from the spectacle. “That was incredible! Did you see that, Your Hig—”

“Lower your voice!” Yanqing snapped in a harsh whisper. “And don’t call me that. If anyone learns I hold authority, it defeats the entire purpose of this journey.”

Luka leaned in conspiratorially. “We’re here to meet your wife.”

“She is not my wife.”

“Not yet.”

“She is also not the reason we gave to Father for being here. So keep your head down.”

“Touché, Yanqing,” Luka smirked.

Yanqing rolled his eyes at the jab. “Let’s head off—”

A loud wail, one that overpowered the ambient cheers, cut through the air. It came from a crowd gathering just a few meters away, some members hollering encouragement, others booing loudly.

“Wait, Luka, don’t—” But it was too late. The ever-energetic companion of His Highness had already dashed off to see the commotion. Yanqing groaned and ran after him, muttering Luka’s name like a curse under his breath.

In his haste, he accidentally collided with someone, bringing both of them to a sudden stop.

Yanqing’s eyes quickly scanned the other person. Their figure was mostly obscured by layered clothing: a red hoodie, similar to his own, and navy-blue bangs peeking from beneath the hood. Oddly, they were barefoot. Wait, barefoot? Is that normal here, too? he wondered. As his gaze flicked upward, oh, they're golden.

But just as quickly as they had crossed paths, the red-hooded stranger bolted past him without a word.

“I..., I’m sorry!” Yanqing called after them, though he doubted the apology landed.

Before he could take another step, yet another figure rushed by, this one cloaked in silver. They didn’t bump into him, but called out in passing, “Apologies! She didn’t mean to,” and disappeared into the crowd in pursuit of the first.

“…No problem?” Yanqing muttered to himself, blinking at the absurdity of what had just happened. Shaking his head clear, he remembered, “Ugh. Luka. What are you up to now?”

Pushing through the dense crowd, he scanned heads until his eyes locked on the center of the commotion.

Arm wrestling?

At the table stood a muscular man: bare-chested except for a striking orange-red sash, adorned with ornaments across his chest. Across from him sat...

“Luka?!” Yanqing exclaimed, staring at his friend, who sat confidently with his elbow planted on the table, smirking like a man with nothing to lose. The crowd’s cheers drowned out Yanqing’s voice. So much for staying low profile.

“Oh, you know him?” asked a stranger beside him, eyes fixed on the match.

“Yes,” Yanqing replied with a forced smile and a soft nod. “He’s a good friend of mine. We’re just… traveling through Zhuming. Taking a short break from our responsibilities back home.”

The stranger's expression changed from excited to sympathetic, "Oh, dear. Poor lad..." Sensing Yanqing's confusion, "Your friend might return with a broken arm."

Yanqing blinked. “What do you mean?”

The man chuckled nervously. “No offense to your friend, but he’s sitting across from the strongest arm wrestler in all of Zhuming. Undefeated. He hangs around the port waiting for foreigners to challenge, lures them in with taunts, then crushes them—literally and figuratively.”

Yanqing’s brows furrowed. “That’s horrible. Why would anyone let that happen to innocent travelers?”

The stranger shrugged. “Easy money. People bet on him. He pretends to be beatable—gets them riled up. Your friend probably took the bait.”

Yanqing folded his arms, disturbed. “In the Luofu, this kind of deception would never be allowed. We pride ourselves on hospitality.” This goes against Yanqing's customs back in the Luofu, where the focus is on diplomacy.

The man beside him snorted. “Well, this isn’t the Luofu. This is Zhuming.” Sighing, "This is why travellers are easy targets," the stranger mutters to himself, not caring whether the young blond hears.

The crowd roared as the signal to begin was called.

Luka’s hand clamped down on the mountain of a man’s with a loud slap, his smirk never faltering. The opponent—easily twice his size—grunted, his muscles bulging like sculpted stone. The referee, a wiry woman with a piercing gaze, counted down:

“Three… two… one—begin!”

The tension between their arms crackled like lightning. The table creaked under the pressure, and dust puffed into the air as bystanders leaned in, placing last-second bets and shouting over one another.

Yanqing, still trapped in the crowd, was practically vibrating with anxiety. “Come on, Luka. Don’t be reckless…”

The Zhuming champion sneered, his biceps flexing like they could burst his skin. But Luka’s left arm held steady—firm, unwavering, like a wall refusing to crumble.

“Give up, kid,” the man growled through gritted teeth. “Your bones’ll snap first.”

But Luka only chuckled. “You talk too much.”

With a sudden roar, the redhead leaned in—and with one clean, controlled push, slammed the man’s hand onto the table.

The crowd gasped. Silence fell. A coin clattered to the ground.

“WOOOO! YEAH!” Luka threw his arms in the air, breathing hard, grinning from ear to ear. “Who's next?!”

Yanqing’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

The defeated champion blinked in disbelief, then sat up slowly. For a moment, there was respect in his eyes. Then... suspicion.

He pointed at Luka. “That arm…” His eyes narrowed. “The right one.”

Yanqing’s breath hitched.

Luka’s right arm, now raised in celebration, gleamed under the sunlight—metal plates, subtle hydraulic lines, a reinforced elbow joint. A prosthetic.

Gasps spread through the crowd.

“He’s a cheat!” someone yelled.

“But he used his left arm!” Yanqing shouted back, but no one listened.

“Doesn’t matter! That strength—he's got enhancements! Must’ve been channeling power somehow!”

More voices rose in outrage. Someone threw a discarded cup. It bounced off Luka’s shoulder. A group of dockhands began closing in, shouting obscenities, egged on by the once-cheering crowd.

Luka took a step back. “Okay, this isn’t good.”

“We have to go. Now,” Yanqing said, grabbing his arm.

But too late. They were surrounded—pressed in by angry gamblers, mercenaries, and even a few guards with electrified spears. Yanqing instinctively reached for the sword strapped to his back beneath his cloak, but Luka held him off. “We can’t fight them!”

Then,

A sharp whistle cut through the chaos.

From the alley behind them, a figure emerged: hooded in red, barefoot, golden eyes glowing faintly under the shade of the cloak. It was the one from before.

“This way!” they barked, voice muffled but urgent.

“What—?” Luka blinked.

“No time! Come on!” the figure reached out, grabbed Luka’s wrist, and yanked him into the shadows of the alley. Yanqing followed without hesitation, barely dodging a thrown knife that lodged into the wall behind him.

The alley twisted and dipped. They raced through tight corridors and ducked into narrow crevices that only the red-cloaked stranger seemed to know. At one point, they jumped down onto a lower deck, crossed a water wheel bridge, and vanished into a quiet underground market.

The stranger finally stopped, panting slightly, and turned to face them. “You made a scene.”

“We—” Luka gasped, “we were almost murdered.”

The figure tilted their head. “Welcome to Zhuming.”

Yanqing wiped sweat from his brow, "Who," still catching his breath, “Who are you?”

The figure paused. Then, with a flick of their hand, removed the hood.

Golden eyes. Navy bangs. And the faintest, mischievous smile.

“Let’s just say I know what it’s like to get in trouble for winning.”

Chapter Text

“Your Highness, I truly don’t wish to be the kind of companion who enables reckless schemes like this,” Sushang muttered anxiously, trailing behind Yunli. Both were cloaked in hooded mantles to obscure their identities.

“Then you’re free to let me do it alone,” Yunli replied breezily, shrugging as her sharp eyes scanned the dock for a starskiff they could use.

Grimacing, Sushang quickened her pace. “And just how would you reach the Yaoqing without my help? You’re only asking this of me because Uncle Jiaoqiu frequently travels between the flagships. I could get in serious trouble for invoking his name like this…” she added, eyes squeezed shut in quiet distress.

Noticing her friend’s hesitation, Yunli’s tone softened. “I swear, I won’t let you get scolded. You know how General Feixiao favors me.”

“Queen Feixiao,” Sushang corrected, lips tightening into a thin line. Yunli’s grin only widened in response.

“Exactly! That’s how close we are.” Her smile turned coaxing. “So just a quick word with a dockworker. Ask if they’re headed to the Yaoqing. Easy!”

Travel between flagships in the Xianzhou Alliance typically required permits, clearances, and a lengthy bureaucratic process. But with Doctor Jiaoqiu’s regular visits to Zhuming, his name carried weight—and more importantly, shortcuts.

“Look!” Yunli puckered her lips and motioned toward a lone dockworker who seemingly didn't have much on his hands at the moment.

Sushang hesitated, her boots dragging across the stone like they weighed a ton.

Before they could approach, with Sushang dragging her feet as if they were the heaviest to carry, another worker stepped in and struck up a conversation. “Did you hear? Another traveler got scammed. Poor lad, both arms injured. Just a young one, too.”

The girls froze.

What?

Which led us to this scene.

“Let’s just say I know what it’s like to get in trouble for winning.”

Still dazed, Yanqing stared wordlessly ahead. Luka, ever the quick-recovering optimist, clapped his hands together. “No, seriously, what’s your name? We’ve got to thank our mysterious rescuer properly!”

"Oh, well..." the golden-eyed girl seemed to hesitate,

"I'm Yun—"

"Your Hi—"

“Yunrai! Yunrai!” the girl blurted out, glaring daggers at the silver-cloaked girl beside her who’d nearly exposed her identity. “You can call me Yun. Or Rai. Either works!” She threw in a hasty smile. Can’t be too complacent. They might recognize the name Yunli. Tsk.

The new addition, wearing a silver cloak, only eyed Yunrai suspiciously before sheepishly adding, “...But she’ll answer more readily to Yun.”

Smile slightly strained, but barely visible thanks to years of training and polishing public facades, Yunli scooches closer, "Did you handle it?"

Yanqing raises an eyebrow; years of courtly etiquette have hidden the strain well, but he seems to be the only one who notices the tightness in her posture. Why mask it, though?

Nodding, "Yes, as you instructed. Just like you said. I pulled my hood back—they recognized me instantly and fled. I’ve sent other knights to clean up the rest." Sushang whispered back with a small nod, doing her best to sound and look more casual, betraying her principles in professionalism for the sake of this plan her majesty created.

“Brilliant,” Yunli whispered back, visibly relaxing.

"Oh," Luka smiled, "Then let me say—truly, it is with my utmost genuineness to extend our appreciation for your help, Ms. Yun!"

“Ooh~” the silver-cloaked girl chimed with delight. “What polished manners! You wouldn’t happen to work with the Royal Court back on your flagship, would you?”

Eyes widening, Luka quickly waved his hands. "Oh— NO. No, no! Not at all," the redhead nervously draws, "I... I was always told that I can be overly polite. It's a habit," he lies through his sheepish smile.

Sushang nodded, "Oh, alright. I'm Sushang! I'm—"

"—the youngest member of the Xianzhou Cloud Knights!" Luka cheered excitedly, "I know!"

That's not what I was going to say, Sushang nervously signalled to Yunli as the princess dubiously shot her a look.

Yanqing looked at Luka with a face that asked, You do? How come I don't know?

“You were always too busy for tournaments,” Luka murmured to his friend. Turning back to the group, he added brightly, “I used to watch Sushang’s matches when I was younger—her, and the other knights of Zhuming. I’ve always admired the discipline and technique of your flagship.”

As Luka continues to ramble, both girls can't help but feel proud at the bombardment of high praise regarding their flagship's reputation, nearly forgetting their initial worry of the travelers recognizing a royal was outside her chambers. "...but that's all I know about Zhuming. Knightly duties and their techniques," Luka concludes as he sighs dreamily. At the same time, Yunli and Sushang sigh in relief. He didn't mention anything about recognizing Yunli.

“We’re proud of that reputation,” Sushang said sincerely. “Thank you, um...?”

“From the Luofu,” Luka replied with a sweeping bow. “Luka, at your service, Lady Sushang. And Lady Yun.” He placed his hands on Yanqing’s shoulder. “And this one here is...,"

A pause.

Luka blinks nervously as Yanqing gives him an unimpressed look. Glancing at the two girls, it doesn't seem that they know about him and his importance in the royal castle: being the prince's babysitter personal knight. It slightly hurts his pride, but also ignites the passion to improve.

"...Qing," Yanqing murmurs.

“Yes! Qing!” Luka repeated with renewed cheer. “And we’re both deeply grateful for your timely rescue. We are in your debt.”

Yanqing let out a soft sigh, brushing invisible dust from his coat. “We wouldn’t be indebted if you didn’t pick a fight in the first place.”

“Hey, I won, didn’t I?” Luka grinned. “Besides, it was totally worth it.”

Sushang tilted her head. “Worth being nearly arrested and beaten?”

Luka looked thoughtful for half a second. “...Yes.”

Yunli—Yunrai—chuckled softly behind her hand. “You’re lucky I was there. Zhuming's docks are not kind to rulebreakers. Or... winners, apparently.”

"Rulebreakers? I promise, I didn't cheat!" Luka wailed quietly.

"Those individuals were targeting innocent people! Unless what they did was officiated by the court, we broke no rules." Yanqing gave her a frown, not liking the idea of being associated with rule-breaking.

With a raised brow, "Well, Qing, to the residents, it was rule-breaking." Yunli retorted.

"Tsk," Yanqing combed through his hair as he asked, "Why was that even allowed?"

"It's not! I..." didn't know something like this was happening. Or that my people were capable of doing this. Yanli wanted to add, but somehow all ideas for a reply died in her throat.

 Yanqing gave her a measured look. “And you just happened to be there at the perfect moment?”

“Oh, I happen to be in the right place at the right time quite often,” Yunli said, with the kind of grin only someone very used to lying could wear.

Sushang was less amused. “Yun—" she clears her throat,"...rai,”

“Yes, Yunrai,” Yunli stressed with narrowed eyes.

“Right. Yunrai, you told me you just wanted to see the starskiffs depart. That we’d go home before sunset.”

Yunli gave her a cheeky shrug. “Plans change.”

Sushang folded her arms, huffing in defeat. “And now we’re aiding fugitives." Quieter, she added, "I hope your grandfather doesn’t find out about this.”

Luka scratched the back of his head. “Not to complicate things, but… they might already be looking for us. Those dock guards didn’t look like the ‘let it go’ type.”

“Wait,” Yunli said, suddenly serious. “You didn’t fight the guards, did you?”

Yanqing spoke up for the first time in minutes. “No. However, one of them attempted to seize Luka before any proper questioning could take place. I knocked the weapon away. We didn’t hurt anyone seriously.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” Sushang said.

Yunli clicked her tongue. “Great. Now we’re going to have search patrols, reinforced checkpoints, and," She groans, "Ugh, more paperwork if we want to sneak off this flagship.”

Yanqing’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sneak off?”

Realizing she said too much, Yunli quickly backpedaled, “I mean—if. Hypothetically. If one were to want to sneak off the flagship. Not that I was planning on it.”

“Right,” Luka said, utterly unconvinced.

“Okay, okay,” Yunli said, throwing her hands up. “Cards on the table. You’re not safe here anymore. We’ve caused a stir, and Zhuming's got more eyes than you think. That means if you want to avoid being dragged back into custody, you’ll have to leave.”

Yanqing exchanged a look with Luka, then stepped forward. “And you’re offering us that way out?”

“Let’s just say…” Yunli’s voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in, “...I know where the paper trails don’t reach. If you follow me—and don’t cause any more arm wrestling chaos—we can get you to the Yaoqing.”

Sushang sighed, head in her hands. “Uncle Jiaoqiu is going to kill me.”

At that, Yunli’s eyes lit up with a new idea. “Say, Mr. Qing,” she began, stepping closer to Yanqing. Tilting her head with a honeyed smile that barely concealed her scheming glint, she asked sweetly, “Do you perhaps carry a travel permit? One that lets you go between flagships of the Alliance?”

Yanqing narrowed his eyes. “Yes… I do.”

“Well, that saves us the trouble!” Yunli beamed, turning to Sushang. “We’ll use their pass!”

Yanqing straightened at once. “Whatever do you mean by we?”

“By we, I mean the four of us! If that wasn’t obvious.” Yunli replied matter-of-factly, casting him a side glance.

Blinking, Yanqing folded his arms. “No.”

“No?” she echoed incredulously.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he asked flatly.

Yunli scoffed. “I literally just saved you and your friend. Some gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“And how do I know you're not fugitives trying to sneak away just as you mentioned?” Yanqing countered. “You spoke about evading security like it’s a hobby. And if you’re truly from Zhuming, why hide your identity? Why act like this?” He gestured vaguely to her loose cloak and wild demeanor. “And why think so differently from everyone else here?  If you were any other resident, you would have let the whole thing slide because it's apparently the norm here. Why help us? Unless you wanted to use our gratitude to your advantage. The citizens didn’t even blink at the match earlier. But you helped us. Suspiciously noble of you.”

Scoffing, is he really that stuck-up? "I literally just saved you and your companion." Yunli raised a brow, hands on her hip as she added quietly, "Some gratefulness you have there."

Luka, trying to step between them, was shrugged off by the tense prince. Yanqing pressed on. "Is it wrong to be wary? Things aren't adding up on your side." He gave her a pointed look, "And you're barefoot!"

At that, the princess gasped as though he had insulted her entire bloodline. “How dare you!”

"Only criminals who wouldn't want any footwear slowing them down are like that!"

"Oh, please. That just shows how little you’ve explored beyond the port." Yunli fired back. "We, the people of Zhuming, are strong souls! It's a discipline of the arts, Qing. Strong soles, stronger souls."

Well, both young royals were partially correct. Though it is a norm for veteran warriors in Zhuming, and it is a tactic criminals in the Luofu use to leave no trace, for Yunli's case, it wasn't easy trying to escape from her castle, even with Sushang's help. Yunli had mostly lost her shoes while escaping the palace. But growing up, she had always been the type to run around barefoot when given the chance.

The two stare off at each other's eyes that are a few shades away from each other; one still in doubt, and the other affronted.

“No criminal would have a Cloud Knight by her side,” Yunli said at last, gesturing toward Sushang, who had been awkwardly watching their argument unfold.

Yanqing didn’t flinch. “Nor would an ordinary citizen. So either you bribed her, or you’re using another savior act to exploit people's gratitude. Like what you're trying to do now.”

“Oh, you little—” Yunli took a step forward, but Sushang quickly raised both arms and stepped between them.

“Enough!” she said firmly.

All three turned to look at her.

“I understand your suspicions, Mr. Qing,” Sushang said patiently, “but I take my duty as a Cloud Knight seriously. I can assure you, nothing dishonest is going on between me and Lady Yun.”

Yanqing dubiously raised a brow, Lady? She must be nobility, then? "Why leave without your own permits? Why Yaoqing?"

“I can’t say,” Sushang said, voice quieter. “It’s a personal... endeavor.”

“I want to meet someone,” Yunli added, a note of sincerity undercutting her dramatic tone.

“We’re here to meet someone, too!” Luka piped up, finally recovered from the chaos.

The girls glanced at him. Yanqing, meanwhile, seemed lost in thought.

At that, the two girls looked at the redhead as the young prince seemed to be deep in thought. "Here? In Zhuming?" Sushang asked, to which Luka responded with a nod. "Oh, no. I don't think we can process your stay here any faster. Knowing that we'll have to leave..." the knight worriedly murmured.

As the group collectively fell silent, Yanqing exhaled slowly, then said:

“We’ll go to Yaoqing with you.”

Luka blinked. “What?”

Yanqing gave him a look that said: I’ll explain later.

Before Sushang could express her gratitude, Yunli scoffed. “Who said I’m bringing you?”

“You did,” Sushang said nervously.

Yunli stomped a foot, childlike and stubborn. “Well, I don’t want to anymore!”

“I’m the one with the pass,” Yanqing taunted.

Sushang went closer to Yunli and whispered desperately, "Please, Your Highness, I don't want to go against my principles and protocols like this. My poor Uncle..."

Darting her eyes around the port, Yunli stuttered a reply, "We'll... We'll find another one! One who has a much more considerate and kinder heart than he."

“Oh, please,” Yanqing sighed, arms crossed. “Vetting who my friend and I travel with isn’t the opposite of kind or considerate. Besides, who else is going to help you? The port’s travelers are all freshly arrived. None of them is planning to leave so soon. And the odds of one from Yaoqing traveling back are infinitesimal. Especially since the chances of someone else going to Yaoqing with you rather than their own homes are low. Additionally, statistics show that the people of Yaoqing have the lowest rates of travel and migration, which makes the chances of a traveler going home to Yaoqing even lower. Especially with five other flagsh—”

"Ugh! I get it!" Yunli cut in, face flushed with frustration. “You win this time.” She spun on her heel and stormed off.

"This isn't a competition!" Yanqing yelled at Yunli's back.

Sushang had a good laugh at the princess' reaction before redirecting her attention to the two males, "So... you're really coming?"

Yanqing looked toward Luka, who nodded.

“We don’t exactly have a better option,” Luka said. If we get investigated, they'll know our identities. Just thinking about the news reaching King Jingyuan gives me shivers. The prince seems to have thought of the same thing. “Lead the way, Lady Sushang.”

Despite still being upset, a grin tugged at Yunli’s lips again as she heard them trailing behind her. “Then let’s get moving. Zhuming doesn’t sleep, but it sure does hunt.”

When they were far enough behind the girls, Luka leaned over. "So..." Luka started, "Did you suddenly get cold feet and decide you don't wanna meet your queen?" Yanqing had always been the type to find a way. If he had wanted to meet his future wife enough, then he wouldn't have made the decision so fast.

Closing his eyes before answering, "...I guess you could say that. Zhuming's culture... It's new to me. This place is wild, and I’ve always lived by order, and if Yunrai is actually a native, then that interaction alone says enough. This place is so far off from the Luofu."

"Hey, you got along with Lady Sushang. Oh, wait, she's originally from Yaoqing. Apologies," Luka scratched the back of his neck. “But it’s not like you’ll be the one staying here after marriage.”

“That’s the thing.” Yanqing’s voice dropped. “I may not know her yet, but I wouldn’t want her to give all this up for a life so foreign. And… honestly, I don't think Zhuming fits me either. How will we ever get along?" He added, "If I'm already reacting like this despite barely getting to know the place, I wonder how she would feel." Destined for each other by law and at such a young age, only a few could understand. "I don't want us to be miserable just because we're different..."

Luka hummed for a bit before replying, "So you decided to go to Yaoqing?"

"Yaoqing is way more similar to Luofu than Zhuming." Yanqing jests, but not completely wrong since he's been there before. "And besides, I need advice from someone there."

Luka simply nodded and smiled in understanding.

As they disappeared into the steam-wreathed alleys and lantern-lit underbelly of the flagship, shadows lengthened behind them—and high above, in the upper tiers of the city, both royals—one ahead and one behind, just a few steps—thought to themselves,

I hope General Feixiao can help me with this.

I hope Queen Feixiao can help me with this.

Chapter Text

It had been nearly a full day since their departure. Nothing much had happened. No pirates, no turbulence, no danger, just the hum of the starskiff as it cruised through the endless expanse of the galaxy. The vessel was moderately sized, enough to hold a few dozen passengers without feeling cramped. Still, the two duos—Yanqing and Luka on one side, Yunli and Sushang on the other—kept a comfortable distance.

Until,

“I can’t take it anymore!”

Yanqing looked up from where he sat, carefully polishing the edge of his blade. “Ms. Yun, what—”

Before he could finish, the sword in his hands was snatched.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Yunli murmured dramatically, cradling the weapon as though it were a wounded creature.

Yanqing blinked. Luka blinked. Then they blinked at each other.

“…What just happened?” Luka mouthed.

Yanqing’s confusion quickly hardened into annoyance. “Give that back,” he snapped, standing up.

Yunli dodged his reach with surprising agility. “Not until you stop hurting it!”

“…What?”

She held the blade up, eyes full of offended disbelief. “How could you just sit there and ignore its cries? Can’t you hear it?”

“Hear what?” Yanqing deadpanned. The lights dimmed on her figure, her eyes looking at the weapon as if it were alive, and her hooded figure and secretive clothing—in his head, he was already drafting a report that simply read: this girl is unwell.

Yunli brought the sword closer to her ear, nodding solemnly as if it were whispering secrets. “There, there,” she murmured, stroking the hilt like a pet. From time to time, she threw Yanqing looks of pure judgment.

Luka leaned in toward Yanqing. “Um, is she..." Luka whispered, "...okay?”

“She’s not,” Yanqing muttered flatly.

“Mr. Qing,” Yunli began with all the grace of a scolding teacher, “there are things in this world made with purpose—blades, spears, arrows. They are not mere trinkets to display. They are extensions of their wielder’s will!” She held up the sword dramatically. “They live to fight, to protect, to fulfill their duty!”

“I use it when I need to,” Yanqing replied, unimpressed.

“Barely!” Yunli accused. “You’ve been depriving poor Yanzhou of its destiny!”

Yanqing frowned. “…Who’s Yanzhou?”

“The sword, obviously!” Yunli gasped, appalled. “You don’t even know its name? After all these years—” She paused, glancing down at the blade again as though it were whispering more gossip. “What’s that? There are others like you? Trapped on display, gathering dust? Flying swords, dagger twins, flexible blades… copies? Oh, the horror!”

“Wait—how do you know all that?!” Yanqing demanded.

“She told me,” Yunli said simply.

Yanqing’s expression screamed: I was right. She’s a lunatic.

Before their bickering could escalate, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Your—uh, Yun! There you are!” Sushang jogged over, slightly out of breath. “Please tell me you’re not causing trouble again.”

“She stole my sword,” Yanqing accused.

“She rescued it!” Yunli retorted.

Sushang pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, alright—look. I can vouch for her.” She turned toward Yanqing, trying to sound reasonable. It's a passed blessing from the royals of Zhuming, but she can't just reveal that, as it is also a hidden fact. A secret weapon in the kingdom. “Yun has... this unique ability to sense the spirit or ‘resonance’ of weapons. It’s rare, but real.”

Luka’s eyes widened in awe. “That’s amazing! You can talk to weapons?”

Yanqing folded his arms. “You all can’t possibly believe this nonsense.”

Sushang sighed. “Believe it or not, it’s true.” Then, remembering why she came, she straightened her posture. “Anyway, there’s something more important. I came to inform everyone that the starskiff is passing through unstable weather. The pilots asked a few of us to help keep the passengers calm. I volunteered. It’d help if you all did too.”

“Of course,” Luka said immediately. “We’ll help however we can.”

“Fine,” Yanqing added, giving Yunli one last disapproving glare before taking back his sword.

“Handle it with care,” Yunli warned sweetly.

“I’ll handle it however I please.”

-

"Oh my aeons! I knew my dream had a meaning!" A young foxian male started to panic, "What did I tell you?" He yells at his friend, whose tail-ends have a lighter shade of orange than his.

"Are you not hearing him? It's not that big of a deal." The friend responded calmly.

Luka cleared his throat, "Although the staff assures that it's under control, it is still a serious matter, kind sir. This information is to keep everyone alert for emergencies."

"So there is a chance I'll die here!"

As Luka tried his best to comfort the passenger, his reaction was starting to influence everybody else, too. On the other side, the two undercover royals are still bickering.

"In the Zhuming, when you lose a weapon on a battlefield, you get it back on a battlefield. You better watch out, Mr. Qing," Yunli taunted, eyeing the handle of the sword, Yanzhou, that's peeking out.

Grimacing, "What are you implying? Are you perhaps challenging me to a duel?" Yanqing replied with a raised brow.

That question was left unanswered when a child-foxian came to them, carrying a doll wearing a purple dress and a hat that matched its pastel purple hair. Quite the contrast from the owner's nature-like green aesthetic.

"Hi, there," Yanqing's voice softened as he crouched down and greeted the child. "What a charming friend you have there with you. Care to share its name so we can be friends, too?"

The child smiled, eyes crinkling like a crescent moon, and the two royals couldn't help but swoon internally at the sight, "Qiqi!" She pointed to the purple toy before pointing to herself, "Yaoyao."

Before either of the two could respond, the child added, "You two fight like Yaoyao's parents. That's bad." And left the scene, walking towards a group of kids.

Stunned, Yunli just stared at the child strutting off while Yanqing stood up from his crouching position and called for the kids' attention, "W-Wait."

Yaoyao led them to a batch of kids, which made it both easier and harder for the royals to finish their task since not all of the young ones were as calm as the former.

A few minutes later, the four seemed to have the situation under control—as expected from members of the royal court, but no one had to know that.

Unfortunately, the starskiff began to tremble. Passengers murmured in confusion, some already standing to look out the windows. Lightning flashed through the glass, followed by a loud metallic groan.

“Everyone, please remain seated!” Sushang called out over the noise. “There’s nothing to worry about—the pilots have everything under control!”

Luka helped calm a group of panicking elders, while Yunli and Yanqing, still arguing, were supposed to be helping the younger passengers.

“Stop yelling at them,” Yunli scolded. “You’re scaring people.”

“I’m not yelling,” Yanqing said through gritted teeth, steadying a falling crate. “You’re yelling.” None of them is yelling, but for some reason—possibly irritation against one another—they could only focus on the other's voice.

Before Yunli could retort, the ship lurched violently, sending everyone sprawling. Lights flickered, alarms wailed, and the starskiff tilted sharply downward.

“Brace for impact!” Luka shouted.

Then,

A blinding flash. A roar. A crash.

When the starskiff finally stopped shaking, it was eerily quiet. The vessel had landed—roughly, but safely—on what appeared to be the rocky outskirts of Zhuming, at the very edge of known territory.

Yanqing groaned, brushing dust off his blue cloak. “Well. That was unexpected.”

“You think?” Yunli coughed, shooting him a glare. “You nearly fell on me!”

“Maybe if you weren’t standing in the middle of the—”

“Oh, you’re crazy!”

Yanqing scoffed. “I’m crazy? You’re the one who talks to swords. What does that make you? A lunatic?”

Yunli gasped, visibly offended, but before she could retort, Sushang cut in, “Enough! We need to check for injuries and contact the control station. You two can argue after we make sure no one’s dying.”

Luka, still half-laughing, clapped both of them on the shoulders. “I like this team already.”

-

The morning after the crash was strangely peaceful. The storm clouds still loomed in the distance, but the skies above the small Zhuming port-village were finally clear. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and spice, and the streets were lined with vendors calling out their morning specials.

No one had been seriously injured from the crash, and the pilots had already promised to repair the starskiff once the weather calmed. Until then, passengers were free to roam the nearby settlement. And so, the four unlikely companions found themselves wandering through its bustling marketplace.

Luka stretched his arms, inhaling deeply. “Man, after all that chaos, this place feels like a vacation spot.”

“It’s small,” Yanqing muttered, scanning the narrow streets and wooden houses, “but functional.”

“Functional?” Yunli repeated with a scoff, “That’s one way to describe quaint charm, Mr. Qing.” She clasped her hands behind her back, hood drawn low to conceal her face. “I say it’s lovely! Just look at that old bakery, and that—ooh! A food stall!”

Sushang frowned slightly. “Yun, don’t—”

Too late.

Yunli had already marched over to the nearest stall, where an elderly woman stood behind a simmering pot of scarlet broth. “Four servings, please!” she said proudly, tossing a few coins onto the counter. “My treat!”

Yanqing blinked. “You’re paying?”

“Of course! As a pr—” she caught herself, then quickly faked a cough and added, “—as a generous traveler, it’s my duty to care for my comrades. Besides, you’ll love Zhuming’s cuisine!”

The old woman in charge of the stall chuckled in amusement, "Young child, I admire your enthusiasm. It's great to see the youth share our culture with travelers. Say, dear, would you like to customize your order?"

Smiling in glee, "Why, yes, of course, Granny! I'd love to!" Yunli squeals, practically bouncing in place due to her excitement. It has been a long time since she was allowed in the kitchen—or anything related to that. It takes her back to the younger days when the palace maids would let her stay with them as they cooked. A pity she developed a liking for kitchen knives, which ultimately banned her from going back there.

Sushang sighed quietly. “This isn’t going to end well.”

Moments later, four bowls were served—each steaming with a deep crimson hue that seemed to radiate danger.

Luka leaned over his bowl, sniffing cautiously. “It smells... strong.”

“It smells lethal,” Yanqing corrected, poking the broth with his chopsticks.

“Nonsense,” Yunli said, sitting tall with a proud grin. “This is called Red Dragon Stew. A Zhuming delicacy! It’s meant to awaken your fighting spirit. A dish for warriors!”

Luka laughed. “Then this’ll be perfect for Yanqing!”

Yanqing’s expression didn’t change. “I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come now,” Yunli teased. “The great swordsman of the Luofu can’t handle a little heat?”

Yanqing exhaled through his nose. “Fine.”

He took a spoonful. One sip.

And immediately coughed like he’d swallowed molten lava. His face flushed pink, eyes watering as he struggled to breathe through the spice.

“By the Aeons—what is this?!” he sputtered, grabbing for his drink.

Yunli rested her cheek on her hand, smiling sweetly. “A taste of Zhuming pride.”

"With extra ingredients added. I don't blame you, Mr. Qing. I promise you our delicacy isn't this strong." Sushang added in an attempt to comfort the young blond, although her statement is true. Yunli's tastes are strong for someone who is expected to be delicate.

Beside them, Luka was quietly dying—tears streaming, hiccuping between gasps of laughter. “It’s… so… good—ow, my tongue!”

Sushang shook her head, sipping her broth like it was nothing. “You get used to it. It’s good for blood circulation!”

Yanqing turned to her, betrayed. “You could’ve warned us!”

“I did,” she said flatly. “I told you it wouldn’t end well.”

Yunli leaned closer, eyes glinting mischievously. “You know, I expected better from the Luofu’s finest. Perhaps I should’ve ordered the children’s version for you?”

Yanqing set down his spoon with a measured clack. “Next time, I’m cooking.”

“You cook?”

“I can,” he said, tone clipped. “At least mine won’t try to kill anyone.”

-

After they’d survived the Red Dragon Stew and its fiery aftermath, Yunli declared—between coughs—that they should “walk it off.”

The market stretched along the harbor, a riot of color and sound. Fishermen shouted prices over crates of glimmering scales, silk vendors waved their fabrics in the wind, and children darted between stalls, clutching skewers of candied fruit.

Yunli, of course, was enchanted.

“Oh, look at those ornaments! And that fruit—what is that? It’s glowing! Do you think it’s safe to eat?” She darted from stall to stall like a child let loose in a festival, eyes wide, hood slipping back just enough for sunlight to kiss her face.

Yanqing followed behind, exasperated but dutiful. “You act like you’ve never been in a market before.”

She turned to him with an airy laugh. “Perhaps I haven’t.” Wouldn't want to remember that lonely childhood.

Her tone was light, but something flickered beneath it—quick, like a shadow passing over sunlight. Before he could think to ask, she spun around again, haggling with a vendor over the price of a hairpin.

Yanqing sighed and adjusted the growing pile of bags in his arms. “You wear the burden of nobility well, Mr. Qing,” Yunli teased over her shoulder.

“Because someone has to carry the weight of your impulsiveness,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said, this weight builds character.”

Luka snorted behind them, whispering to Sushang, “I’m starting to think they enjoy this.”

Sushang gave a knowing hum. “Or they’ll strangle each other before sundown.”

Just then, a small group of local guards, being informed about the crash, began making their rounds through the crowd, stopping travelers for permits. Yunli froze, her cheerful grin fading. Her eyes darted to the insignias on their uniforms—and the realization that none of them had proper travel papers hit instantly.

Yanqing noticed her hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

“Guards,” she hissed. “They’re checking identification!”

“So? We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Yes, but..." They're guards. They'll recognize me. "...we’re technically... unregistered sky passengers at the moment.”

Before he could reply, Yunli grabbed his arm and pulled him close—far closer than he expected. “Just—play along,” she whispered. "I may not know much about markets, but I do know how these people think."

When the guards approached, they found Yunli draped dramatically in her cloak, leaning against Yanqing’s shoulder like she could barely stand. Her hood concealed most of her face, and she let out a pitiful cough that sounded almost convincing.

“Good afternoon,” one of the guards said, eyeing them curiously. “Are you two travelers?”

Yanqing opened his mouth, but Yunli beat him to it, her voice trembling faintly. “Y-yes, good sirs. My partner and I are just… passing through. The journey was long, and I’ve taken ill.”

The guards immediately softened, exchanging sympathetic glances. “Ah, the poor thing,” one murmured. “The sea winds can be cruel this time of year.”

Yanqing, ever composed, adjusted the cloak around her shoulders and nodded gravely. “We were only hoping to find an inn nearby so she could rest.”

That sealed it. The guards’ suspicion melted into pity.

“Of course, of course. You shouldn’t be out in this weather, miss. You two go on, rest well.” They said, forgetting about checking permits. Who would suspect these two innocent-looking actors anyway?

As soon as they were gone, Yunli straightened instantly, all traces of frailty vanishing from her face. “See? Works every time.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Yanqing exhaled sharply and stepped back. “What in the stars was that?”

“Improvisation,” Yunli said innocently. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Yanqing gave her a long, flat stare. “...You have a troubling amount of experience deceiving authority.”

Of course. I've deceived the former king of this starship multiple times. She smirked. “You’re welcome.”

“You could’ve warned me before involving me in your theatrics.”

“Oh, but you didn’t seem to mind acting the part,” she teased, lips curling.

“I simply adapt quickly to unpredictable criminals.”

She gasped in mock offense. “So you admit you played your role well. Should I be flattered?”

“You should be careful,” he countered. “Next time, I might not play along.”

Yunli only smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she started walking again. “And yet,” she said softly, “I think you would.”

The blond simply let out a silent exhale. I don't think my patience can handle more of this. "Let me go find Luka and Sushang." I wonder how Lady Sushang could even manage to stay with her.

-

Later that afternoon, the group had somehow secured a small kitchen space in a local inn. Luka was peeling vegetables, Sushang was setting utensils, and Yunli sat cross-legged on a chair, chin in her hands, watching Yanqing move about the kitchen with absurd precision.

“Why are you measuring salt with a ruler?” Yunli asked.

“It’s a spoon,” Yanqing replied curtly.

“It’s a ruler shaped like a spoon,” she said, grinning. “Do you always cook like you’re conducting military drills?”

“It’s called efficiency.”

“Looks more like perfectionism.”

Sushang leaned toward Luka, whispering, “I feel like if we breathe too loud, he’ll start over.”

"Trust me, it happened before," Luka whispered back, which caused the two to share a silent laugh.

A while later, Yanqing presented the results: neat portions of rice, vegetables cut into perfect cubes, and sauce poured in even circles.

“Voilà,” he said, expression neutral.

Yunli lifted her chopsticks and took a bite.

Then blinked.

And blinked again.

“…This tastes like a meal made by an instruction manual,” she finally said.

Yanqing frowned. “It’s balanced.”

“It’s soulless.”

“It’s edible.”

“It’s sad!”

Luka stifled a laugh behind his hand, while Sushang sighed. “And here I thought the storm was the worst part of this trip.”

Yunli smirked, leaning back with a satisfied hum. “You may be a swordsman, Mr. Qing, but when it comes to food? You’ve been defeated.”

Yanqing crossed his arms, glaring at her from across the table. “If that’s what it takes to stop your cooking, I’ll consider it a victory.”

She grinned. “Keep telling yourself that, Prince of Blandness!”

"Oh, quiet, Princess of Sensory Overload!"

Sushang and Luka froze at the mention of a certain title in their banter, but no one seemed to notice.