Deborah_Leo

In the grand empire of Skiiri, a marriage is arranged between the noble Prince Xìn Xuān and the elegant Princess Lù Zhāo—a union meant to strengthen alliances, not hearts. Among her guards is a silent, sharp-eyed knight named Shèng Lín, whose loyalty masks a deadly secret: he is a spy sent to assassinate the prince.

But fate has other plans.

On the final night of their journey through the mountains, beneath pouring rain and hidden desires, the prince and the spy share an unexpected kiss. When dawn comes, they wake up not with regret… but in each other’s bodies.

Forced to switch lives, the proud prince must live as a lowly knight, and the cold spy must pretend to be royalty. They must fool their kingdoms, survive political traps, and navigate the palace’s endless gaze—all while untangling the growing feelings that neither can deny.

Yet when the prince discovers the truth—that the man he’s falling for was once sent to kill him—the fragile trust between them shatters.

Will love survive betrayal?
Or will duty and destiny tear them apart for good

(bl) Swapped lover

The morning sun barely rose above the palace walls when a royal envoy arrived at Skiiri's gates, bearing a scroll sealed with the Eastern Kingdom's dragon emblem.

The Prince sat in the council room, expression unreadable as he unrolled the scroll.

> "A formal invitation," he read aloud, his eyes narrowing, "for a diplomatic meeting between kingdoms, requested by Prince Lù Xiǎng."

At the name, Shèng Lín's posture stiffened beside him.

> "He says it is to discuss future trade routes," the Prince continued, rolling the scroll back up with a snap, "but we both know it's more than that."

His gaze flickered toward Shèng Lín.

> "You didn't tell me he would move this quickly."

Shèng Lín's jaw tightened. "Your Highness, I had no control over his decisions."

> "No, but he thinks he has control over you."

Silence fell in the council room, heavy with unspoken words.

That afternoon, the Prince stormed into the private training grounds where Shèng Lín was sparring alone, the clang of blades echoing across the courtyard.

The Prince's dark robes flowed around him as he entered, his eyes sharp.

Shèng Lín wiped sweat from his brow, sheathing his sword. "I am training."

Shèng Lín looked away, exhaling. "What do you wish me to say, Your Highness?"

> "Say you will stand with me when he arrives," the Prince said, stepping closer, voice low. "Say you will not return with him."

Shèng Lín's eyes flickered. "Your Highness, it is a diplomatic meeting. I am just a knight—"

> "You are mine," the Prince snapped, grabbing his wrist. "Do you think I will let him take you from me?"

Their faces were inches apart, breaths colliding, the charged silence only broken by the soft rustle of the Prince's robe.

Shèng Lín's eyes narrowed, pulling his wrist back. "You are not thinking like a ruler."

> "And you are not thinking like a man who cares for me!" the Prince shouted, before lowering his voice. "You're afraid, aren't you? Afraid you'll break if you stand beside me when he arrives."

Shèng Lín's hands clenched. "It's not about fear."

Shèng Lín's breath caught, chest rising and falling rapidly as memories of his past with Prince Lù Xiǎng flashed in his mind—how the man had pulled him from the streets, raised him, trained him, trusted him.

And how now, that same man would become the enemy of the one Shèng Lín loved.

"Tell me," the Prince whispered, stepping even closer, "what are you so afraid of losing?"

Shèng Lín's composure cracked, and he shoved the Prince back.

> "Everything!" he shouted. "If I stand beside you when he comes, I will lose everything I once owed him."

> "Then lose it," the Prince said fiercely. "Lose it, and gain me."

Shèng Lín was shaking, anger and confusion blurring everything. "You don't understand what you're asking."

The Prince closed the distance again, grabbing the front of Shèng Lín's tunic, pulling him close until their foreheads touched.

> "I am asking for you," he whispered, "and only you."

Their breathing slowed, the world silent around them.

Slowly, the Prince's hand rose to Shèng Lín's cheek, brushing a damp strand of hair away.

Shèng Lín closed his eyes, leaning into the touch for the briefest moment before their lips met, a kiss that was neither gentle nor harsh, but desperate—holding on to something neither could name.

When they parted, the Prince whispered:

Shèng Lín opened his eyes, the internal war far from over, but a quiet promise slipping from his lips:

Chapter 42 — The Invitation and the Storm