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The moon hung high over the palace, its soft glow filtering through the curtains and casting silver light across the room. The fire had long burned to embers, and the two souls—still trapped in each other's bodies—lay side by side on the wide royal bed.
Prince Xìn Xuān (in Shèng Lín's body) turned to his side, barely able to fall asleep. His curiosity was getting the better of him. And… it didn't help that his body—his real one—was sleeping peacefully beside him, chest rising and falling under the sheets.
Without much thought, his hand slowly wandered… fingertips brushing across his own abdomen.
Toned. Firm. Impressive.
He smirked, letting his hand drift a little more. "So that's what I've been hiding under all those robes…"
Just then—a strong grip caught his wrist.
Shèng Lín, now in the prince's body, opened one eye. His voice was low and firm.
"What are you doing?"
The prince grinned innocently. "Huh? Just touching myself. You don't have to mind."
Shèng Lín raised a brow. "My body is touching your body. Doesn't that seem… weird to you?"
The prince only laughed softly, then sat up—his mischievous gaze sparkling in the moonlight. "Not weird. Actually…"
He climbed over Shèng Lín, pinning him beneath as he leaned down with a smirk.
"I've been wondering… how do my lips taste?"
Before Shèng Lín could react, the prince lowered his face, his voice dripping with playful menace.
But Shèng Lín didn't even blink.
With practiced ease, he flipped the prince back, grabbed both wrists, and slammed them down against the mattress above his head, pinning him effortlessly.
"Still reckless," he muttered, unimpressed. "You never learn."
And that's when—
The door burst open.
Several maids entered, carrying trays of late-night dinner. "Your Highness, we brought—"
They froze.
Time stopped.
On the bed was Prince Xìn Xuān (visibly atop his own knight), in a compromising position. The prince's body—on top. The knight's body—beneath. Hands pinned. Legs tangled. Clothes slightly disheveled.
Not a word was spoken.
Every servant ran out in a panic.
The door slammed shut behind them.
"…You see what you did?" Shèng Lín said coldly, slowly rolling off.
"I didn't do anything!" the prince huffed, sitting up indignantly. "You were on top! I'm the victim here!"
Shèng Lín groaned and flopped back onto the bed, pulling a pillow over his face.
"Forget it," he muttered.
But the prince wasn't done.
A moment later, he scooted closer, his arms sliding around Shèng Lín's waist from behind. He pressed his face against his own back, nuzzling just slightly.
"I can't sleep without something warm," he murmured, voice heavy with fake innocence.
Shèng Lín didn't move. Didn't push him away.
And so, in the awkward silence, the two mismatched souls lay in the dark—one brooding, the other grinning—while the palace outside whispered rumors that would soon be impossible to ignore.
Their night ended in chaos.
But somewhere in the mess…
Comfort was beginning to bloom.
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