Next morning, as I walked into the dining room, my heart pounded. Ming Yu looked up and smiled brightly at me, his eyes lighting up with warmth. Damn it. Why is he so cute? Can someone put a warning label on his face?
Wei Wuxian looked at me. "Are you feeling better?" he asked.
"Yes," I nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm fully recovered."
I took my seat, stealing a glance at Ming Yu. He looked… remarkably healed. Color in his face, barely any bruising left. Okay, either he's got the constitution of a celestial beast, or someone slipped him a divine cheat code.
Wei Wuxian caught my glance and smirked. "Wondering why he's already back to looking like a prince from a romance novel?"
Busted.
"Honestly? Yeah."
"We spent most of the last two nights giving him spiritual energy," Wei Wuxian said casually, like that was just a thing friends did at sleepovers. "Lan Zhan and I took turns. Otherwise, it would've taken him at least a week to get out of bed."
"And thank you once again to both of you," said Ming Yu.
I turned to Lan Wangji. "Any update on the prisoner we captured?"
Lan Wangji shook his head. "No, they still won't talk."
Wei Wuxian's expression grew serious. "We are running out of time," he said, his tone filled with urgency.
I looked at him, puzzled. "Running out of time? Why?"
"This trip was meant to look like a simple diplomatic visit," Wei Wuxian explained. "An excuse to take you to the southern city. We need to return tomorrow, or people will start asking questions."
"The southern territories are under Minister Wang's control," Lan Wangji added. "Staying longer could be interpreted as provocation."
I frowned. "You think Minister Wang is behind the missing rations?"
Lan Wangji's nod was subtle but firm. "It's possible. But we need the ledger to prove it."
Wei Wuxian leaned back, his tone turning grim. "The problem is, we believe it's hidden somewhere in his estate. And breaking into the home of a high-ranking minister without cause? That would cause chaos."
I looked around the table, everyone deep in thought. My mind was already spinning with ideas—and all of them were equally dangerous.
"So... what's the plan?" I asked, not entirely sure if I was excited, terrified, or both.
Wei Wuxian's voice cut through the room with quiet finality. "For now, we have to return to the palace."
He turned to me, eyes gentle but resolute. "Mei Lin, about what we talked about before the trip... have you made a decision?"
I froze. Oh no. Not now. Not in front of him.
Ming Yu, who obviously already knew but apparently had a flair for dramatics, asked casually, "What happened?"
Wei Wuxian didn't miss a beat. "Her status at the palace is still undefined. I offered to make her my Consort—for her protection."
I glanced at Ming Yu, my heart thudding so loudly I was surprised the table didn't shake. He looked back at me, gaze unreadable, until he said, "The palace is dangerous. You should accept. It's for your safety."
That was it. No protest. No hesitation. Just cool logic. Like we were discussing weather patterns and not... my marriage.
My stomach dropped. So that was it? He didn't care? All the glances, the almost-kiss, the leaning on each other in the prison—all of it had meant nothing to him. I was just some girl to be tucked away neatly in someone else's life.
I pressed my nails into my palms, sharp enough to sting. Don't cry. Not in front of him. Not when he doesn't even flinch.
Wei Wuxian's tone softened. "I know it's not ideal, but it's the best option. You'll have full protection, and no one will be able to question your place."
Ming Yu added without looking at me, "It's a smart choice. You'll be safer this way."
Safe. Like a prized object locked in a glass case.
I swallowed hard and nodded slowly. "I understand. If it's for my protection…"
I turned to Wei Wuxian, forcing my voice to be steady. "Yes. I will be your Consort."
He and Lan Wangji both inclined their heads in thanks, relief plain on their faces.
And then Ming Yu said it.
"Congratulations."
The word landed like a slap across the face. Polite. Distant. Hollow.
Something snapped.
My hands trembled. I reached for the cup in front of me, needing water or something to keep my rage from combusting. But the moment my fingers wrapped around it, the porcelain exploded in my grasp, shattering into a rain of sharp shards.
Everyone froze.
Water dripped from the edge of the table. Pieces of the cup glittered on the floor.
Wei Wuxian's eyes widened in shock. "Mei Lin, are you alright?"
I stared at the shattered porcelain on the floor, then down at my hand, which had started to sting. My rage fizzled out, replaced by confusion. "I... I don't know. I just..."
Then I noticed the blood. Crimson drops stained the floor like punctuation marks to my breakdown.
Ming Yu was suddenly at my side, his face etched with concern. "Xiaohua, cloth—now," he said, already pressing his hand to mine to stop the bleeding.
Xiaohua moved with surprising speed, handing him a strip of cloth. Ming Yu wrapped my hand with practiced care, his fingers steady and sure.
"Let's get this cleaned," he murmured. His voice was soft, but there was no room for argument in it.
I nodded mutely, still stunned by the mess I'd made—literally and emotionally.
Before leading me out, Ming Yu turned to Wei Wuxian. "I'll come find you after. We need to talk."
Wei Wuxian nodded, still trying to make sense of the impromptu explosion. To be fair, so was I.
Back in Ming Yu's room, he guided me gently to a daybed. "Sit," he said, in a tone that brooked no refusal. As he slowly unwrapped the cloth, pain radiated through my arm, making me wince.
"I don't know what happened," I whispered. My voice trembled, half from pain, half from fear. "It just exploded."
Ming Yu didn't look up right away. He was focused, pulling out a small pouch of herbs. "Were you angry?" he asked quietly.
I blinked at him. Was I angry? Let's see—jealousy, confusion, heartbreak, public humiliation—so yeah, maybe just a little.
"M-Maybe," I admitted, my voice small.
He looked up at me, calm but serious. "Emotions affect spiritual power. Strong feelings can trigger a response, especially for someone with latent ability."
"Wait, are you saying I shattered the cup? With water?" My voice cracked between disbelief and an uncomfortable flash of ego. "Do you still think I'm the Goddess of Water?"
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I'm almost certain now. But I want to bring you to my master for confirmation."
I let out a shaky laugh. "Right. No pressure. Just possibly the reincarnation of a divine being who accidentally throws water tantrums in formal dining settings."
After tending to my wound, Ming Yu looked into my eyes, his gaze steady, searching. "Why did you get angry?" he asked softly.
I immediately dropped my gaze, heart pounding. "It's nothing," I lied with the finesse of someone who had never been good at lying.
He wasn't buying it. With a gentle but firm hand, he tilted my chin up to face him. "Mei Lin, you can tell me."
And that was it. One kind look, one soft word, and the dam broke. My chest tightened, my throat closed, and before I could stop it, the tears came. Mortifying, messy, and unstoppable.
I didn't even try to speak—I couldn't. How was I supposed to say I was spiraling because I had possibly fallen in love with a man who encouraged me to marry someone else for "protection"?
Ming Yu wiped my tears gently with his fingers, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through me. "Was it something I said?" he asked quietly. "Was it because I told you to marry Wei Ying?"
I gave the smallest of nods.
He went still, then pulled me into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around me with a tenderness that made my heart squeeze painfully.
Okay. Yup. There it was.
I officially fell for Liu Ming Yu.
Great. Just fantastic.
How did I go from wandering through a mysterious forest to having a full-blown romantic crisis with a man who looked like he walked off a K-Pop music video?
"I didn't mean to upset you," he whispered, his voice so soft it vibrated through my chest. "I only said that because... I'm worried about you. The palace—it's beautiful, yes, but it's also dangerous. Wei Ying can keep you safe there. That's all I want. For you to be safe."
His words should've made me feel better. And they kind of did. But also? They made everything worse. Because he cared—just not in the way I desperately wanted him to.
Still, there was something about the way he held me, the quiet strength in his arms, that made my heart flutter despite everything. His warmth, the sincerity behind his words—it unraveled me.
"And if you think it's easy for me to see you accept this proposal," he said, voice low and tight, "you're wrong. It's harder than it looks."
I looked up, my breath caught somewhere between fear and hope. "What does that mean?" I asked, barely managing to keep my voice steady.
He gave a small, almost self-deprecating smile—soft, uncertain, but laced with something deeper. "Do I really need to spell it out?" he murmured, eyes fixed on mine. "Mei Lin… I like you. I have been. For a while now. Just in case you haven't noticed."
His words hit me like a thunderclap—unexpected and overwhelming. Everything else faded: the pain, the politics, the palace. Just his voice, his eyes, his ridiculous, beautiful confession.
My breath hitched. "You… you like me?"
His smile widened just slightly, more sure this time. "Yes," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world.
Then, gently—almost reverently—he leaned in. His lips brushed mine in a tender, hesitant kiss. It wasn't rushed or dramatic. It was soft. Careful. As though he were afraid I might vanish at the slightest pressure.
But I didn't vanish. I melted.
His warmth, the sincerity behind every word, the kiss—it unraveled every tangled knot inside me.
And just like that, I was lost in him.
I closed my eyes, leaning into the kiss, my hands resting on his chest. The pain and fear from earlier melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through my entire being.
His lips moved against mine, gentle yet passionate, as if he was pouring all his feelings into that single kiss.
As the kiss deepened, Ming Yu's hand gently cupped my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. Our lips parted slightly, and I felt the tentative touch of his tongue against mine. A surge of electricity shot through me, and I responded, our tongues dancing together in a slow, sensual rhythm. The intensity of the kiss grew, our breaths mingling, as we explored each other with a newfound intimacy.
Ming Yu's other hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My fingers tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through my hands as I clung to him. I felt heat rising in me as I pressed closer to Ming Yu, my heart pounding in sync with his. His arms tightened around me, pulling me even closer, and I felt his hand fumble with the knot of my dress at my back. His kiss was deep and intense, making me want more. My hands instinctively moved to the strings of his robe, ready to pull them loose and deepen our connection.
In the midst of our passionate embrace, a cold drip landed squarely on my head.
I blinked, startled, and pulled back just enough to glance upward. "What the—?"
Ming Yu followed my gaze. His expression shifted from puzzled to utterly stunned. Above us, a perfect sphere of water floated in mid-air, swirling lazily like some celestial prank.
"Mei Lin…" he began, awe and apprehension mingling in his voice.
"Oh no," I gasped, heart dropping.
Before we could react, the water dumped itself on us in one unceremonious splash. We sat there, dripping, completely soaked. My hair clung to my face, my robe was plastered to my skin, and I could feel water trickling down my back in the most uncomfortable places imaginable.
I stared at him, mortified. "Did I just…? Did I do that? I am so sorry!"
Ming Yu looked at me, absolutely drenched—then burst into laughter. Not the dignified chuckle of a nobleman, but full-on, belly-shaking laughter.
Despite my embarrassment, I couldn't help it—I laughed too. The whole situation was ridiculous. Our romantic moment had just been drowned by an accidental weather phenomenon of my own making.
I jumped up and grabbed some towels, my face burning hotter than dragon fire. "Great job, Mei Lin," I muttered under my breath. "Way to waterbend your way out of a kiss."
I handed him a towel, still refusing to make eye contact. He took it with a grin, drying his hair.
"You should get changed," he said with amusement, wringing water from his sleeve. "I need to speak with Wei Ying anyway. And maybe… no intense emotions until we figure out how to keep the ceiling dry."
I gave him a sheepish nod.
He stepped closer, gently patted my soaked head, and leaned in to kiss my forehead.
With that, he turned and left, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, drenched, dazed, and grinning like a fool.
***
The morning of our departure arrived much too quickly. Sunlight filtered through the windows, soft and golden, as I packed my things with heavy hands. My heart was a restless mess, a knot of excitement to return to the palace tangled with the dread of what I might be leaving behind.
Then came the knock on my door.
I opened it to find Ming Yu standing there, calm and composed—too composed.
"Ming Yu," I said softly, already bracing myself.
He stepped in, gently took my hands, and held them like he was memorizing the shape of my fingers. "I won't be returning with you."
And just like that, my stomach dropped to my knees.
"I need to return to my sect," he continued, voice low. "My master may have more answers about the Goddess of Water. I have to find out what's happening—to you, and why."
I nodded slowly, though it felt like my heart was trying to climb out of my chest. "I see."
His thumbs brushed over the back of my hands. "This isn't goodbye, Mei Lin. Just a pause. I promise—I'll come back for you."
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I hated crying in front of people. Especially when it made me feel like the lead in one of those over-the-top melodramas where the girl stands by the train station waving a handkerchief.
But then again... this felt kind of like that.
Ming Yu reached up and gently cupped my face, brushing the tear away with his thumb. "Don't cry," he murmured. "You'll make me want to stay."
And then he kissed me.
It was soft, slow, filled with a warmth that left my knees a little wobbly. The kind of kiss that didn't rush—it lingered. Like he wanted me to remember it exactly as it was.
When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads rested against each other, and for a moment, the world quieted.
"Take care of yourself," he whispered. "And remember—no explosive emotions. You can't let anyone know your powers are tied to your feelings. Especially not in the palace."
I nodded, blinking hard. "I'll remember."
He placed one last kiss on my forehead, then turned and left, the soft sound of the door closing behind him feeling far too final.
I stood there for a long time, holding onto the warmth of his touch, the shape of his words, the scent of the moment.
The journey back to the palace was somber. We traveled with the prisoners, and the weight of recent events pressed down on all of us. I missed Ming Yu already—badly. Long-distance relationships are hard enough, but long-distance ancient relationships with no cell phones? Actual nightmare fuel.
As soon as we arrived, Wei Wuxian wasted no time. He called an assembly in the main hall, and the palace quickly filled with curious nobles, officials, and enough tension to snap a guqin string. The hall, all towering columns and intricate carvings, suddenly felt more like a stage than a sanctuary.
Wei Wuxian stood tall at the front, his voice calm but commanding. "I have an important announcement," he said, and every breath in the room seemed to freeze. "From this day forward, Mei Lin will be my Consort."
Cue the collective gasp. Whispers erupted like wildfire, spreading through the crowd faster than I could fake a composed expression. I stood beside him, pulse pounding, trying not to pass out or accidentally burst into flames—emotional water goddess hazards, I guess.
Then came the fun part: the court ladies. Their faces twisted with poorly masked disdain, eyes narrowing like I'd personally stolen the moon. It wasn't even subtle.
"Who does she think she is?" one muttered with a sneer as I passed.
"She must've seduced him. I bet she used some kind of trick," another said with all the venom of someone who'd just been told she was no longer the prettiest girl at the party.
Ah yes, the royal welcome committee.
Xiaohua stayed close, her arms crossed and her voice hushed but steady. "Miss Mei Lin, don't mind them. They're just jealous."
Easy for her to say—she didn't have to dodge dagger stares while pretending not to spontaneously combust from second hand awkwardness.
Still, I nodded, held my head high, and kept walking. Because if I was going to be a fake royal Consort in a drama-level power play, I might as well look the part.
As soon as the news spread, Madam Hui wasted no time claiming her new full-time job: tormenting me in the name of mentorship. Her tone could cut glass, and her expectations were sky-high. "A Consort must understand the nuances of palace life," she announced on Day One, like I had personally offended centuries of decorum by existing.
From that moment on, I was a prisoner to etiquette drills, court politics lessons, and lectures on how to breathe without disrespecting someone's rank. Madam Hui's voice became the soundtrack of my life.
"Walk with grace, Miss Mei Lin," she snapped as I shuffled across the practice hall for the fifth time. "Every step you take must reflect your status."
"Address nobles with respect. Don't speak unless spoken to. Smile—but only the correct amount."
A week later, I was one curtsy away from losing my mind. I couldn't even visit the infirmary anymore—my one place of peace—because apparently, Consorts don't handle herbs or wrap wounds. No, we get wrapped in layers of silk and obligation.
One afternoon, exhausted and fed up with being palace Barbie, I stormed into Wei Wuxian's chambers. The room was calm and serene—soft lantern light, faint incense, total contrast to the chaos in my head. He sat at a low table, reading a scroll, looking far too peaceful for someone who'd just upended my life.
He looked up and blinked at me, curiosity quickly giving way to concern. "Mei Lin?"
I crossed my arms. "Wei Ying, our deal seems to benefit you more than me."
His brow arched, and to his credit, he didn't try to deflect. "Oh? How so?"
I paced a little, searching for words that weren't I am losing my entire identity to your fake royal soap opera plotline. "I've been buried in nonstop training, etiquette drills, and dealing with jealous palace girls who want to rip my hair out. Meanwhile, you get to protect your secret relationship and maintain your cover—without any of this nonsense."
Wei Wuxian chuckled, that irritatingly musical laugh of his. He leaned back, looking more apologetic than smug, which softened me a little. "I'm sorry, Mei Lin. I really didn't think it would be this intense for you. If there's anything you need—anything—I'll make it happen."
I sighed, the tension still simmering. "I appreciate that, I do. But it feels like I'm losing myself in this role. I can't even go back to the infirmary."
At that, his expression turned serious. "You're right. I'll fix that. You should be allowed to continue your work. I'll talk to Madam Hui and make sure you're free to go back."
I sighed, feeling the weight of the whole situation press against my ribs like an over-tightened corset. "Any progress with the prisoners we captured?" I asked, praying for even the tiniest sliver of good news.
Wei Wuxian shook his head, frustration carved into every line of his face. "Nothing. They won't talk. If only we could get our hands on the ledger in Minister Wang's house…" He trailed off, sighing again like the dramatic male lead he secretly was.
An idea sparked in my brain like a faulty lightbulb trying its best. "What about going through Wang Yufei's route?" I said. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind having Lan Zhan visit."
Wei Wuxian immediately froze, then stared at me as if I'd just suggested sacrificing Lan Wangji to a tiger in lipstick. "You want me to hand my lover over to that lunatic?" he hissed. "Have you seen the way she looks at him? Like he's a mooncake she wants to hoard for life."
I burst out laughing. "You already have Lan Zhan. What are you afraid of? She can flirt all she wants—he's clearly not into her."
Wei Wuxian muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Still, she's terrifying," but he sighed and gave a half-nod. "Fine. You're right. It's a risk, but one worth considering. I'll bring it up to him and see what he thinks."
"Absolutely not," came Lan Wangji's voice like a thunderclap of divine judgment from the hallway. He stepped into the room, brows furrowed, jaw set. "I will not be used as bait."
"Come on, Lan Zhan!" I pleaded. "Don't you want to know if the ledger is hidden in Minister Wang's house? All we need is for Yufei to be distracted while we sneak a peek. You're not even bait—you're just… the polite distraction."
Lan Wangji looked visibly betrayed. His glare moved from me to Wei Wuxian with a very clear this is your fault energy.
Wei Wuxian stepped in like the very picture of innocence. "We'll be right there with you, Lan Zhan. You won't even have to talk that much. Just... exist beautifully. It's what you do anyway."
Lan Wangji closed his eyes briefly, exhaled the breath of someone deeply in love with a ridiculous man, and muttered, "Fine. But only because we need that ledger."
I grinned, sensing victory. "Perfect. So, how and when do we make this happen?"
Wei Wuxian smirked. "Leave the timing to me. Just be ready to play your parts. This is going to be... interesting."
I had no doubt about that. What could possibly go wrong with sending the most attractive, emotionally unavailable man in the kingdom into the arms of a lovestruck noblewoman while we ransacked her house?
Absolutely nothing. Right?