Once outside, she saw the hidden door close again and the painting slide back into place—everything seemed as if it had never existed, leaving no trace behind.
“Back already?”
His deep, resonant voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked toward him.
He was sitting alone on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on her.
“Come sit here.”
Seeing how quiet she was, he tapped the spot beside him and called to her.
For some reason, ever since going to the hot spring with him, she felt a strange flutter in her heart whenever she looked at him now.
It wasn’t dislike, but a sense of unease—as if some private part of herself had been unexpectedly intruded upon and discovered.
She had never been this close to a man before.
A sudden, unfamiliar feeling of fear and resistance welled up inside her.
Yet even though she was reluctant, she dared not disobey him. After a moment’s hesitation, she obeyed and made her way to his side.
When she stopped before him, he looked her up and down carefully, then nodded in approval. “Hmm, not bad. That undergarment fits you well enough.”
Following his gaze, Lin Lin looked down at the clothes she was wearing.
What did he mean by “fits well enough”? They were so loose—if she were any smaller, the fabric would drag on the ground. The sleeves were so long they covered her hands completely, making her look like an opera performer. Where was the fit in that?
Of course, she only grumbled to herself about it.
“Sit down,” he said, noticing she was still standing. He patted the bed beside him again, urging her on. “Do you think I’ll eat you or something?”
She thought about it—he hadn’t acted improperly toward her since they’d met, aside from appearing silently behind her at the hot spring.
Even then, he’d maintained proper decorum and hadn’t crossed any lines.
She didn’t know why she felt so intimidated by him, but she told herself repeatedly not to be afraid. It wasn’t such a big deal—she might as well accept her situation and make the best of it.
Besides, if he really wanted to do something to her, resistance would be useless. Now that she was in his territory, there was no way she could escape.
Once she’d reasoned this out, she felt much calmer—adopting a reckless, “what’s done is done” attitude. She obediently did as she was told and sat quietly beside him.
“You really are different—nothing like the others in this palace.”
It wasn’t just her appearance; even her temperament was unusual. Having grown up in the depths of the palace, he’d never met a woman like her in all his years.
While she seemed compliant enough on the surface and hadn’t done anything out of line, he still felt she was unlike the other women here—who were as stagnant as still water.
Thinking of her strange clothes and how she’d appeared in the palace as if from nowhere, he mused aloud, “Odd… you really are quite odd.”
Seeing her remain silent with cautious eyes, he couldn’t help but study her again.
“You’re odd too,” she shot back, not willing to be outdone.
After a moment, she added, “Building such a lavish hot spring palace in secret here in the Eastern Palace.”
She suddenly thought of the hot spring she’d just bathed in.
It was so extravagant—he’d secretly constructed a place that magnificent.
How many more surprises about him did she have yet to discover?
As Crown Prince, he was under constant scrutiny, yet he’d dared to build a private palace. No doubt he’d done plenty of other things behind the Emperor’s back.
She suspected the Emperor had no idea about that hot spring pool—at least there had been no mention of it in the original novel. It seemed even before he ascended the throne, he’d already been so wasteful, showing signs of becoming a foolish ruler.
No wonder Xiao Keyu coveted the throne.
She hadn’t finished reading the novel and didn’t know who had won in the end.
If only she’d stayed awake to finish it and learn who the victor was—she could have aligned herself with the right master from the start, making her path forward much smoother. She’d know what to expect, instead of feeling so on edge and struggling with every decision.
But now, she couldn’t be sure which way to bet.
Even if she regretted it, there was nothing she could do. She could only console herself by taking things one step at a time.
Xiao Fusu could see the confusion and concern in her eyes, but he said nothing about his own affairs.
His eyes shifted slightly as he asked, “What’s your name? How old are you?”
It had just occurred to him that despite knowing her for some time, he still didn’t know her name or where she’d come from.
He wouldn’t ask why she’d suddenly appeared in the palace, where she was from, or what her purpose was in approaching him—he doubted she’d answer honestly even if he did.
There would be plenty of time later to coax the truth out of her. For now, she was still wary of him, and it wasn’t the right moment.
But he had to ask her name—he couldn’t keep calling her “hey” forever.
“My name is Lin Lin. I’m sixteen years old.”
Xiao Fusu nodded. “A year younger than me.”
She was the same age as the one in the Cold Palace.
He thought of Xiao Keyu, who was also sixteen this year. If he weren’t confined to the Cold Palace, he would have already reached the age to receive his crown and be named a prince. But fate was unpredictable—who could have imagined that the boy everyone was certain would become Crown Prince would not only fail to claim that position, but wouldn’t even be granted the title of a lord or prince?
To waste away his life in that cold, forgotten place—it was truly pitiful to think about.
Yet he felt no sympathy for him. Instead, he was quite satisfied with how things had turned out.
The other man was simply reaping what he’d sown—experiencing the same suffering Xiao Fusu himself had once endured.
If he could survive it, why couldn’t Xiao Keyu? Who was any more noble than the other?
An involuntary scoff escaped him—part sneer, part mockery.
It was unclear whether he was laughing at the other’s current downfall or his own past powerlessness and misery.
A hint of sadness flashed in his eyes, though it was quickly masked.
Only he knew the bitterness and sweetness of his experiences, only he could taste their full weight.
“My name is Xiao Fusu,” he said, pulling himself back to the present. “I’m only telling you so you know my personal name—but addressing me by it directly is a grave disrespect. In front of others, you must address me as ‘Your Highness’ like everyone else.”
“Alright.”
She nodded in agreement.
She already knew all this—even without him saying it. And there were things she knew that he didn’t.
As someone who’d traveled through time to this world, even if she wasn’t fully knowledgeable, she understood his fate better than he did himself.
“It’s getting late—let’s sleep.”
He’d suddenly lost his mood. After urging her, he lay down first.
For some reason, he felt heavy-hearted, though he couldn’t quite explain where the melancholy came from.
He was Crown Prince, living a far better life than that other man—he should be happy.
He had no reason to feel guilty. Only one of them could prosper; if Xiao Keyu was comfortable, then the miserable one would be him.
Just as it had been before, when Xiao Keyu was the Crown Prince and he was nothing more than a neglected bastard son.
What did it matter if Xiao Keyu had once shown him kindness? Extending a hand was just a casual act of charity from a high-and-mighty, magnanimous Crown Prince.
After all, what true brotherhood could exist in this palace? Everything was a lie—only power in one’s hands was real and reliable.
They were destined to be mortal enemies.
Their mothers had fought over a man for years, gambling their lives for power—and in the end, he and his mother had been lucky enough to win.
At least he was still alive. If they had lost, without the deep-rooted influence of the Li clan behind them, it would have been difficult to survive at all.
So Xiao Keyu was still fortunate—even in his lowest moments, he had something that made Xiao Fusu envy him.
Pulling the brocade covers over himself, he closed his eyes.
Warmth enveloped him, gradually chasing away the cold.
Even if there had once been genuine affection between them, it was now nothing more than a distant dream.