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Shèng Lín sat on the edge of the bed, gently dabbing a warm cloth against Prince Xìn Xuān's cheek—his own cheek, technically. The bruise was already forming, dark and sore beneath the skin.
The prince winced. "You're really taking care of me…"
Shèng Lín didn't respond immediately.
"…Or are you getting closer to Shèng Lín… like me?" the prince added with a teasing whisper, barely audible.
"I'm just taking care of my body," Shèng Lín replied curtly, dipping the cloth back into the bowl. "We need to fix this. Get back into our own bodies."
"I don't want to stay here forever," he said, voice more tired than cold this time.
"Well…" Xìn Xuān sighed and rolled onto his back. "Let's just pray we switch again before I have to marry Princess Lù Zhāo."
He reached out and tugged Shèng Lín lightly by the sleeve. "Lie down. You've had a long day."
Shèng Lín hesitated, then gave in, lying down beside him on the plush mattress.
The prince took his hand without asking.
"…Do you think," Xìn Xuān said softly, "we should do everything we did the night before we got swapped?"
Shèng Lín turned his head toward him. "You mean… kiss?"
"Maybe it'll trigger something," the prince said with a shrug. "It's worth trying."
There was a pause.
Then Shèng Lín reached up, cupping his own face—the prince's face now—with a conflicted look.
"…It's really weird to kiss my own face," he muttered.
"I think it's a gift," Xìn Xuān smirked. "I'd kiss this beautiful face every day if I could."
With a dry huff, Shèng Lín leaned in and gave the prince a quick peck.
"…Was that supposed to be a kiss?" the prince asked, unimpressed.
"That's what you did to me that night," Shèng Lín muttered. "This is your fault anyway. You're the one who kissed me first."
"We can argue later," the prince said, grabbing the front of his own robe. "Let's kiss properly this time."
Their lips met again—but the kiss was brief, dry, cautious. Nothing stirred.
The prince pulled away with a pout. "That had no emotion. You're not even trying."
"I can't help it," Shèng Lín sighed. "It's strange. You take the lead, then."
"Fine."
This time, the prince leaned in slowly, hands cradling Shèng Lín's jaw with care. Their mouths met again, and this time the kiss was warmer. Slower. Less awkward.
For a few minutes, they kissed—tentative, lingering, and with the quiet tension of two people trying not to admit they liked it.
Then the prince—still in Shèng Lín's body—climbed on top of him, their bodies flush.
They broke apart, both panting softly.
"…Nothing," the prince murmured, glancing around.
Shèng Lín gave a small breath of a laugh. "Guess that wasn't the trigger."
"We must be missing something," Xìn Xuān grumbled.
"Then we'll figure it out tomorrow," Shèng Lín said, resting his head back. "Right now, I'm tired."
The prince flopped forward without warning, laying directly on top of him, arms snaking around his waist.
"Then I'll sleep right here."
Shèng Lín didn't push him off. He just lay still, letting the weight of his own body—carried by someone else—rest against him.
And that's how their chaotic night ended:
One soul asleep atop another, still trapped, still confused, and closer than ever.
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