Shen Luolin supported his weakened body as he walked to the tent entrance and lifted the heavy curtain. A cold wind, laden with snow, whipped against his face. Outside, two Imperial Guards clad in royal-issue heavy armor stood like statues. The frost halberds in their hands glinted with a faint, blue cold light under the dim sky—a majesty reserved only for the imperial family.
“I am Major Frost Wolf,” Shen Luolin said, his voice hoarse and carrying a hint of an unquestionable command. “Step aside.”
The two guards remained motionless, not even shifting their gaze. Their eyes were hollow as they repeated mechanically in a flat, monotonous tone.
“By order of Her Highness Ayla, no one is permitted to leave.”
They did not even use the military rank of “Captain” to address him anymore.
Shen Luolin’s heart sank completely. The sliver of hope behind this attempt was ruthlessly crushed. Ayla’s determination had already overridden his military standing.
He turned and walked back into the tent. Before he could even sit down, the curtain was lifted once more.
Ayla walked in, still wearing that simple, elegant long gray dress.
This time, she did not bring meat broth. On the silver tray was a pot of steaming black tea and a small plate of crystal-clear sugar-glazed plums, sourced from the most famous dessert shop in the Imperial Capital.
It was his favorite flavor from the past—one that only she would remember.
“Replenish your strength.” Ayla’s tone was calm, but her knuckles holding the tray turned slightly white from the force of her grip. “You need rest.”
Shen Luolin did not look at her. The sweet-scented steam brushed past his lips, yet his tongue tasted a faint bitterness, like that of rusted iron.
It was the “Water of Stasis,” a trace-amount alchemical potion capable of suppressing energy flow.
A clever move—boiling a frog in lukewarm water.
Ayla, as expected, never did anything without preparation.
He raised his hand and coldly pushed away the tray she offered. The candied plums rolled onto the expensive carpet, spreading a dark stain.
“How long do you intend to imprison me?” He looked up, his gaze sharp as a blade. “Until the Emperor arrives, so you can present me as a trophy of ‘Her Highness the Princess’?”
Ayla stumbled slightly from his shove. Looking at the mess on the carpet, she did not get angry. Instead, a trace of bitter self-mockery appeared on her habitually frost-covered face.
She slowly set the tray down and spoke in a completely different tone—one so soft it was almost unrecognizable.
“Luolin, have you truly forgotten?”
“You said Moyin is your student…”
She looked up, her eyes—usually as still as a frozen lake—now churning with a complex, indefinable pain and resentment as she stared straight at him.
“But your first student was me.”
“In the Imperial Capital, you taught me how to hold a sword, how to strategize, how to see through the human heart… You said those were the dullest days, but that was when I was closest to you.”
“I thought that such time, such teaching, would only ever belong to me.”
“Luolin… your first, and only student, should have been me.”
A roar echoed in his mind. Ayla’s tearful interrogation overlapped with a stubborn figure from the depths of his memory.
The Imperial Capital, the Royal Martial Arts Field, afternoon.
That girl, who was still just a princess then, had stubbornly swung her sword a thousand times under the scorching sun because of a flaw in a single technique, until her arms lost all strength.
At the time, he had merely said in passing, “I can see your hard work.” She had lifted that sweat-drenched, yet still icy face, and a glint of being “recognized”—which even she hadn’t noticed—had flashed in her eyes.
That identity of “student”…
He finally understood.
It wasn’t a simple relationship between superior and subordinate.
In those hollow, tedious days at the Imperial Capital, “teaching” was the only pure bond between them, and one that he led.
Ayla’s loss of control didn’t stem entirely from loyalty to the Empire, but from… jealousy.
The stinging pain of a private possession being violated.
The status of “student” was the only pure link they shared during that isolated, hollowed-out time.
What she could not tolerate was that he had copied and pasted this past, which belonged solely to the two of them, onto another girl.
That was a denial—a total denial of everything she had given. This seemingly absurd crack was the most fatal weakness beneath all her rational armor.
That was why she could not understand, nor could she tolerate, him giving this “favoritism” to another “student.”
This ridiculous misunderstanding, this sole emotional fissure in her rational shell, had become his only key to overturning the entire situation in this desperate cage.
Use it.
The thought coiled around his heart like a poisonous snake.
The coldness in Shen Luolin’s eyes began to “melt.”
That sharp, aggressive anger slowly faded, replaced by a trace of exhaustion and reminiscence, as if distant memories had been stirred.
He no longer stood to confront her but slowly sat back down on the edge of the bed, as if he had dropped all his defenses.
The performance begins now.
He let out a long breath, his gaze shifting from a cold blade to a deep pool.
He looked at the stain on the carpet for a long time before speaking in a tired voice that even he hadn’t realized he possessed.
“…Yes, I almost forgot.”
He lowered his eyes, seemingly looking at the stain on the carpet, yet also seemingly looking through it toward something much further away.
“Back then, although you were stubborn, you were… much cuter than you are now.”
This compliment, delivered with a pause as if uttered most reluctantly, caused Ayla’s breath to hitch.
A flash of unbelievable pleasant surprise crossed her eyes—a light so bright it was startling—yet she forcibly suppressed it.
Reason was still reminding her that this might be a disguise, a more sophisticated strategy.
She did not immediately respond to this sudden warmth. Instead, she took a step forward, her voice regaining some of the Chief of Staff’s coldness.
“And so? Major Luolin, do you intend to use reminiscence to trade for permission to leave this place?”
She did not immediately order the guards to withdraw. Instead, she remained silent for a moment and pushed the cup of black tea toward him again.
“If you truly still remember…” Her voice carried a trace of an imperceptible, testing tremor. “Then drink it.”
“Prove that you are willing… to stay by my side, just like before.”
This was both a gesture of goodwill and a final ultimatum.
Shen Luolin looked up at the cup of tea. He knew there was no lethal poison in it, but drinking it meant a gesture of submission—it meant he was willing to return to her “control.”
He locked eyes with her in silence for several seconds.
Then, he picked up the tea.
Under Ayla’s complex gaze, mixed with both anticipation and vigilance, he drank the still-warm tea in one gulp.
The empty cup made a soft “clink” as he set it down. His body regained a bit of strength from the sugar intake, but the look he gave Ayla was incredibly calm, as if what he had just delivered was not an act of submission, but a belated, ice-breaking trust.
“Now, are you satisfied, Ayla?”
He didn’t even… use her military rank.
Ayla looked at the empty teacup and his eyes that were no longer full of defiance. The strongest line of defense in her heart finally developed a massive crack.
But she still did not completely let down her guard.
She said nothing, silently picking up the tray and walking out of the tent.
The moment the curtain fell, she issued a new order to the guards outside, her voice having regained its usual composure: “Keep a strict watch. Report any unusual movement to me immediately.”
Ayla walked quickly toward the depths of the camp, the cold wind rapidly cooling her flushed cheeks.
She was going to personally confirm the warning barrier that was enough to lock down half the camp.
If he was truly willing to turn back, she would personally pave the road for his return.
If this was still a disguise… then this perfect cage, built by her own hands, would close completely.
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