The falling cascade, the dark veil of night studded with scattered fistfuls of stars covered the vast indigo of the sky. The sun and light were absent as far as the eyes could see. And through the open window, the chill of winter wind rushed in. It caressed everything within the room, running its invisible appendages on every surface. It was gentle, lingering like a perverse lover’s prolonged kiss.

Standing by the window, hands folded behind his back and long hair let down, the Crown Prince looked out of the window. His face a mirror of consternation and lips pressed together in a tight line. His silver hair swayed, dancing with the wind to an unknown melody.

Once, he blinked. Then, again and again.

Finally, with a sigh, Liu Mingyun looked away from the black canvas of the night and lowered his head. His figure, illuminated by the warm light of flames, appeared unbearably lonesome. The shadows that fell upon his tall, lithe being far more immense than the luminescence of the lamp in the room.

His mind was filled to the brim with thoughts too many, yet so painfully scattered. When he reached to grab one, trying to make some sense of it, they scattered like frightened animals. They fell through his fingers with frightening ease.

The Crown Prince’s lips fell open, a sigh much too burdened rolling off them. His head tipped back, crimson eyes piercing as they traced the ceiling; the sore lack of carvings. Or the sturdy fabric of tents.

Anyhow, with the coming daybreak, Liu Mingyun would be well on his way to the voracious, gaping maw of danger in the cusp of the ongoing war.

Liu Mingyun drew in a deep breath, the cold air in his chest shooting a biting chill throughout his body. He turned away from the open window, his own body a warm furnace of Qi. Humming to himself, shoulder subtly weighed down, the silver-haired man trudged to the bed and lowered himself on the mattress. A thing of humble make, smooth under his calloused hands.

Should he take the initiative to break the building tension between himself and Xin’er? Or let it fester further? He did not know. The time for his departure was set tomorrow, was he to leave with a bad taste in his mouth and rotting bitterness between them?

What should he do? Never before had he ever quarreled with someone he felt ardent affection for.

Liu Mingyun’s ruby eyes narrowed, tongue pressing against his cheek as he swallowed. Then, with a shake of his head and back straight, he stood up. What use would brooding be? He was simply thinking a lot. Neither of them were wrong with their stance, simply possessed differing perspectives.

With that, the Crown Prince came to a wise conclusion—time.

He and Xin’er merely needed some time and space before anything else.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His head turned to the door, eyebrows raised in question. Who could it be, so late into the night, knocking at his door?

Rolling his neck, the man with eyes akin to gems stood, each step carrying him to the closed door. When he opened it, face schooled to stoicism, there it was, standing before him in flesh—the white haired fox spirit whose name he knew not. 1

"Is something the matter?" Liu Mingyun asked, eyes cast down to look at the shorter male.

The fox spirit nodded, looking out of his depth and a touch flustered. He fidgeted with his sleeves, one hand clutching something dearly. So tight, it wrinkled under his grip. "Yes, Your Highness."

Liu Mingyun squinted, lips in a straight line as he waited for him to continue speaking. "Speak then. You seem terribly nervous."

"Uhm," the fox spirit shifted one foot to another seemingly mustering the words to speak. "This lowly one wondered if he could ask something of you. A small favour, perhaps."

That piqued his intrigue, quite instantaneously even,

"Oh?" The Crown Prince tilted his head, leaning to the side, hands folded on his chest. "Please, ask. This Prince shall see if it is worthy of consideration."

The fox spirit swallowed, throat bobbing slightly. "This lowly has heard of your impending departure," he looked away again, white locks curtaining his eyes, sapphire hidden under the cover of his eyelids. "Would Your Highness" —his hands tightened on the article in his hand— "be so magnanimous to give... Him this— this letter of mine?"

Liu Mingyun’s eyes flicked south, gaze catching on the spirit’s extended hand, focusing primarily on the folded—which he now identified as—letter. "To whom do you ask this letter be delivered?" Away from the letter he looked back at the fox spirit’s flushing face. "This Prince fails to understand to whom it is addressed."

"Ah..."

He drew in a deep breath and turned sideways, making space for the fox spirit to enter the room. "If it is something unfit to be said out in the open, please." His hand swept towards the room, asking him to enter the room. "What are you called?"

The fox spirit, now within the security of the four walls of his room, ceased for a moment, then gave a smile full of chagrin. His free hand went to the back of his neck as he lowered his head. "How shameful, this lowly one is called Bai Huiqi, Your Highness."

Liu Mingyun observed him with veiled fatigue, arms still folded on his chest. "Bai Huiqi?" He nodded, taking in the name; then looked away, finding interest in the dancing flames in the lamp in one far corner. "Who do you ask This prince to deliver your letter to?"

Bai Huiqi fidgeted in silence a few times more, eyes hiding from his crimson gaze. "Uh, the... The Heavenly Demon." His voice took so low, the silver-haired man almost did not hear him.

Even when he did, Liu Mingyun blinked slowly, almost wondering if his ears failed him, clearly suffering from the horrors of the war still.

"Ah, the Heavenly Demon you said?" Drawing the words out, he inquired softly. "Or has This Prince misheard you, perhaps?"

Soon as those words left his lips, Liu Mingyun saw the fox spirit turn red at an enviable speed, prompting from him a raised eyebrow.

"No," With a surprising firmness in his voice, Bai Huiqi began, clearing his throat with a faux cough and hand pressed on his lips in a loose fist. He looked away, sight cast down still and continued. "Your Highness has not misheard this one." Fidgeting with the loose thread of his sleeve, he took a deep breath. "It is indeed to him this lowly one asks you to give this letter."

How interesting indeed.

Letting a snort escape, the Crown Prince turned his head to the closed door and took the letter from the fox spirit with a sharp nod. "Very well." His fingers rubbed on the coarse paper, registering its texture before tucking it away inside his sleeve. "This Prince shall see to it that your letter reaches... his hands. Consider this a favour granted. You may leave now."

Bai Huiqi’s shoulders sagged, the tension trapped in them rolling off him in waves as he gave a bow, cupping his hands in a salute. Gratitude curled, warm in his chest, akin to a sunbathed snake perched on a boulder, twisting and coiling. "This lowly one is immensely grateful."

Once the fox spirit was out of Liu Mingyun’s line of sight, he turned away from the door, settling heavy on the side of the bed, he drew out the letter, rubbed it between his fingers, drinking in the emptiness of the envelope that held it.

It had neither name, nor that man’s address, yet written for him. How quaint.

Could Bai Huiqi be one of the exploitable weaknesses of the Heavenly Demon, a man who had such things far and few in between? The temptation, the allure of an upper hand, a stark advantage was so, so incredibly powerful.

Abruptly, Li Xinyuan’s smile, kind and gentle, however wry it may be, bolted through his mind, sharp like clarity. The Crown Prince jerked, torn away from his swarming thoughts and shook his head.

As if the action would dispel those compelling thoughts and swiftly put away the temptation, summoning his restraint before he put the illuminating fire of the lamps out.

Heaven above, help him with strength.

...

The next morning was eerily silent, fraught with tension, its tendrils thick and vicious as they wrapped around Liu Mingyun’s throat akin to a snake’s smothering vice. As he sat on the side of the bed, knees wide apart, elbows on his thighs and head lowered, he let out a long exhale, his hair a long cascade of moonlight on still water. The morning hours were early, birds not yet awake and trilling in the cold.

But with his enhanced hearing, the crimson eyed man could catch the silent shuffling of an entourage of servants in a flurry of actions, loading up things in the carriages arrived far too early.

It was all too clear, the reality of his imminent departure. And all of a sudden, from the depths of his heart, a reluctance reared its head.

Shameful, it was, to feel such a thing when the people in the frontlines awaited him, dying in every moment of his absence.

He had been selfish long enough, greedy for the warmth of a lover not yet his own. He was greedy still, for the peace that prevailed in this place.

But a man like him could hardly afford such mundane luxuries. Not when the life and death of thousands were consequences of his choices.

The Crown Prince did not rest. He did not bleed. He did not ache. He did not incur wounds.

He must be a wall of protection for his people.

Liu Mingyun was to protect, to fight, to mend. Not to bleed, to ache. He was not to be hurt.

He could not afford such human luxuries. Mundane, out of his reach.

How quaint.