Chapter 61: The World’s Most Suspicious Vacation

For the next week, I did absolutely nothing but… relax.

I know. I didn't believe it either.

At first, I kept expecting something ominous—like a sudden duel in the bathhouse or a talisman hidden in my cucumber water. But no. Shen Kexian's version of "training" continued in full, languid force.

Every morning, he showed up for no more than ten minutes.

He'd appear like smoke—spotless, smooth, mildly amused—and say things like:

"Today, you will join the puppet troupe from the Eastern Quarter. Observe how stories are told through movement."

"This afternoon, your task is to walk in the garden. Pay attention to where water gathers."

"Tomorrow—new location. Shopping. Bring Xiaohua."

And then he'd vanish again like a cursed breeze that read too many philosophy books.

The rest of the day?

Spa sessions. Palace tours. Garden strolls. Puppet shows.

I swear at one point, someone guided me through the Royal Lily Greenhouse like I was there to commune with flower spirits.

And I... didn't hate it.

It was weirdly fun.

Xiaohua was having the time of her life. She cried at the puppet play. Bought seven types of candied fruit in town. She even started rating different incense blends on a scale of "peaceful" to "makes me want to time travel home."

One day, I got to visit Old Liang in the infirmary again. He looked older but still sharp as ever, grumbling about young physicians mixing roots wrong and forgetting the virtues of sleep. We talked for an hour about ancient herbal methods, and it reminded me—suddenly and deeply—that there were parts of this world I liked.

That I wasn't just surviving anymore.

Maybe I was beginning to live.

For the first time since I got here, I felt... lighter.

Like I wasn't trapped in prophecy and palace rules.

Like I could breathe again.

Which was why, of course, I was suspicious.

Shen Kexian wasn't just being generous. He was planning something—I was sure of it.

But for now?

I wasn't going to complain.

I'd had tea under plum blossoms, gotten a hand-carved comb from a town vendor, and walked through sections of the palace I never knew existed.

The only strange thing?

I hadn't seen Yufei in days.

Not at meals. Not in the courtyards. Not even lurking dramatically with a fan near the koi pond.

And that, more than anything, made me nervous.

Because if Yufei was quiet… It meant she was either sulking or scheming.

And both were dangerous.

The next morning, I expected the usual: a scroll slipped under the door with a vague poetic riddle, maybe a maid announcing, "Today, my lady, you are to contemplate koi fish and your place in the cosmos."

Instead, Shen Kexian was standing in the courtyard. Waiting.

Leaning against the stone railing like he belonged to the architecture.

His robes were darker today—deep navy silk embroidered with something subtle and expensive. He looked like the quiet, broody lead in a very expensive historical drama. The kind that only smiled in the last episode and made everyone cry.

He turned at the sound of my steps entering the courtyard—calm, composed, and impossibly unreadable.

Of course.

I walked up slowly, eyes narrowing. "Didn't expect you today. Figured you'd be off brooding in a scroll room or practicing dramatic entrances in front of a mirror."

He gave a small, amused smile. "I was told you've grown used to being pampered."

"Please," I scoffed. "It wasn't pampering. It was a cleverly disguised surveillance mission with warm towels and puppets."

He tilted his head. "And how did it feel?"

I opened my mouth to deflect—to toss out something sarcastic about scented towels and court manipulation—but it didn't come.

Instead, I sighed. "Fine. It was… actually kind of fun."

His smile widened slightly—annoyingly satisfied.

I glared. "Don't look so pleased. I still don't trust you."

"That's good," he said, unfazed. "You shouldn't. Trust, after all, should be earned."

"Is that part of the training?" I asked. "Step one: confuse me. Step two: spa. Step three: enlightenment via grilled peach tarts?"

"If it worked, would you complain?"

"…No. But I'd still suspect a trap."

His expression turned contemplative. "And yet, you seem more at ease. Your body isn't as tense. Your mind feels quieter."

I narrowed my eyes. "Wait—are you listening to my thoughts?"

"No. But you wear them like jewelry. Loud and obvious."

I stared at him. "Do you practice being this insufferable, or does it just happen naturally?"

He let out a low, amused hum. "Naturally. But I do take pride in consistency."

His gaze shifted—lingering in a way that made my skin prickle. Like he was trying to read something written under my skin. Whatever he was looking for, I wasn't ready to let him find it. I looked away.

He straightened, tone suddenly businesslike. "Good. You're relaxed. That's important."

I folded my arms, eyeing him. "So what's the plan now? Back to sacred ice baths and whispering life lessons to koi fish?"

Shen Kexian didn't blink. "According to your records," he said evenly, "you've only moved water during moments of heightened emotion. Is that correct?"

I shifted, already regretting how serious he looked. "Yeah… that sounds about right."

His gaze sharpened—not unkind, just unrelenting. "Tell me the incidents."

I hesitated, then nodded. "First time, I was falling off a cliff. Into a waterfall. I thought I was going to die. The water caught me."

His expression didn't shift, but his silence deepened, like he was memorizing every syllable.

"Second time," I said, "I was furious. A cup shattered. I didn't try to do anything—it just… happened."

He nodded once. "And the third?"

I opened my mouth—then stopped. The memory hit too fast.

The ache in my chest, the kiss, Ming Yu's mouth on mine, —and then water, rising above us.

I flushed. "It was… an emotional moment."

He arched a brow. "Which kind?"

I scratched at the back of my neck. "Let's call it… affection-triggered instability?"

"Affection," he repeated slowly, like it tasted foreign.

I coughed. "Intense affection."

He didn't say anything—just looked at me, something flickering in his gaze that almost resembled sadness, quiet and unspoken, before he turned away.

And when the silence stretched, I rushed to fill it. "There was a fourth time."

That got his attention.

"The trial," I said. "Lady Wang slapped Xiaohua. I moved before I could think. And the water did too."

He exhaled faintly. "Ah. The Lady Wang incident."

My jaw clenched. "She drew blood. I'd do it again."

"I want to test something," he said, voice low but steady.

That's when he moved.

Without warning, his hand closed around my wrist and pulled me toward him. It wasn't rough, but it was firm—controlled, like he had a specific reaction in mind.

I ended up just a few inches away from him, close enough to see the faint lines around his eyes, the way his gaze focused completely on mine.

Then it hit.

A sharp jolt in my chest, like something twisted without warning. Not emotional—physical. A sudden tightness that made it hard to breathe.

And then came the pain.

It wasn't a dull ache. It was sharp, immediate. It felt like something cracked behind my eyes, like pressure building too fast in my skull. I gasped and clutched my head, stumbling a little as the garden blurred.

He caught me—steadying me with both hands, one on my arm, one lightly supporting my back. His voice was more urgent now. "Mei Lin? What's happening?"

"My head—" I winced, eyes shut against the pain. "It's... too much."

But just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

The pain vanished the moment he let go of my wrist. Like a switch had been flipped.

I took a step back, still breathing hard, trying to process what just happened. My fingers still pressed to my temple.

When I looked up, Shen Kexian's expression had changed. There was a crease in his brow that hadn't been there before. He looked... concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked, quieter now. Calmer, but no longer detached.

I pressed a hand to my temple, still reeling.

"Ugh—not this headache again," I muttered under my breath.

Shen Kexian stiffened slightly. "Again?"

I looked up, still wincing. "Yeah. It's not new."

His eyes narrowed. "You've had this same pain before?"

I nodded slowly. "Only when you're near."

He didn't say anything. He just watched me, his expression unreadable.

I narrowed my eyes and snapped, "Okay, but seriously—what was that? Yanking me into a soul-gazing staring contest without warning? Is that part of the training, too?"

Shen Kexian didn't answer right away. He looked at me again—just a steady, quiet glance.

But something shifted.

There was a weight in that look, something I couldn't quite name. It wasn't intense in the dramatic sense, but it settled over me like a memory I hadn't lived. His eyes didn't flash. They didn't burn. But there was something in them—tired, strangely familiar.

For a second, it almost felt like he missed me before he even knew me.

Then—like always—his expression closed. He looked away. 

"I wondered… if a sudden, emotional jolt might trigger your power."

I blinked. "So your genius plan was grabbing me like a scandal in progress just to see if I'd splash a fountain?"

"I had to confirm a theory."

"A theory?" I stared at him. "You gave me a brainquake for a theory?"

He didn't answer.

Just turned back and walked awayl, cool and composed like he hadn't just emotionally short-circuited both of us.

And I just stood there.

And wondering—

What the hell is happening to me?