ITVCFITB CHAPTER 109

 Chapter 109 – Hidden Motives

Since landing in Great Xia, Shen Mingyun’s path had been easy mode. Even waking up in a ruined noble household hadn’t starved him; the system always had his back. It felt just like the novels: power-ups on demand, smooth upgrades, the whole main-character buffet.

By that script, he should’ve flattened the Third Prince, boosted the Fourth onto the throne, and become the most formidable empress-consort in history, conquering lands, pacifying realms. Golden-age Tang? Please. Make way for Golden-age Xia, curated by Shen Mingyun.

Instead? His “fated” husband cheated, with their ally, no less. The foreign reinforcements got wiped without costing the enemy a toenail. He was now holed up in a broken temple, starving, soaked, and unsure whether the Fourth would even come looking.

He forced himself to breathe. Think like a gamer: this is just a campaign with a bug. Devs always let the player clear the game. A few spikes in difficulty, maybe a scuffed patch, but the end state is guaranteed, right?

Once he talked himself off the ledge, his mood evened out. Prince Two watched the swing from fury to calm without comment. They’d run all day, sipped stream water, and eaten nothing. Tempers made sense.

When the rain stopped, Shen glanced at him. “Aren’t you going hunting?”

In his head, the world still ran on tropes: a key NPC should fetch rabbit and fish while the protagonist naps.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Prince Two said dryly. “We have no gear. The mountains are full of snakes. We’ll look for fruit at first light.”

“Only fruit?” Shen grimaced.

“Unless you have a better way to find meat. I’m not a hunter.”

“How can you not know how to hunt?” Shen muttered. In novels the hero could do everything. …Could the Fourth hunt? Hm.

“Then you try,” Prince Two shot back.

“I’m a ger. I can’t even draw a bow.”

“Aren’t you the one with ‘spells’? Should be nothing to net us supper.”

“I don’t have spells.”

Prince Two’s stare lingered. “Everyone else died, and only you and I walked out. Show me.”

“I. Don’t. Have. Spells.”

He let it drop for now. He’d just learned, unmistakably, why the Fourth married a useless beauty: Shen’s value wasn’t in running a household but in making emperors. If he had such a “ger,” even ugly, he’d burn incense and worship him.

That thought sprouted other, sharper ones. Prince Two’s tone softened, his movements grew attentive. “Mingyun, get to the fire. Best take off your wet clothes, or you’ll fall sick.”

Under firelight, his muscles cut clean shadows, eight-pack, carved shoulders. Shen swallowed. Not envy this time… impulse. No. Absolutely not. This was the Fourth’s side piece, his rival. Have a bottom line, Shen.

Prince Two leaned in, palm briefly on Shen’s forehead. “You’re flushed.”

“Too close to the fire,” Shen stammered, heartbeat skipping at the brush of warm skin and smoke.

The prince eased back to a proper distance, eyes on the flames. Silence pooled. Clothes dried. Shen curled on straw near the embers.

Toward midnight the cold bit through. He woke shivering; Prince Two woke with him. “Cold?”

“…Yes.”

“Come here. I’ll block the wind.”

Shen didn’t hesitate. Back to back, they breathed, thought, didn’t sleep and then did. Shen drifted off. Prince Two, listening to Shen’s breaths smooth out, made a plan: if Shen wouldn’t “use magic” to scout tomorrow, then he would lead. Where they went, how far they missed the capital, he’d decide.

In the morning, Shen surfaced to find himself in Prince Two’s arms. Heart: rabbit-mode. He slipped free before the other “woke,” flustered and pretending not to notice that no fruit had magically appeared for breakfast.

They foraged later, sour berries, a handful of wild fruit and set off to “find” the road to the capital. Shen couldn’t buy a locator and had the sense of direction of a dizzy pigeon; he left the route to Prince Two.

Who, naturally, had other plans. Near dusk he said, mild as tea, “Strange. By rights, we should’ve reached the capital.”

“You’re a fellow compass-idiot!” Shen perked up.

“…Right,” the prince said, lips twitching. Not quite.

He caught Shen by the waist when a stone rolled; lifted him clear when a slick crossing threatened a fall; carried him over a stream like a bride. Attentive, steady, maddeningly competent. That night, Shen inched closer to the familiar, solid warmth at his back and wondered Did I pick the wrong male lead?

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In the capital, Li Mingjin and Luo Shuyu tightened the net. If Shen and Prince Two returned, they wanted eyes on them instantly.

“I doubt they went straight home,” Luo said. “Feels like a…detour.”

“Shen Mingyun will tangle with him,” Mingjin replied, pinching Luo’s chin.

“Why are you pinching my—”

Mingjin hauled him into bed. “Because I, too, am a man of limited patience.”

Eye-roll; quick kiss; truce.

---

Three days later, two messages landed at once:
Shen Mingyun and Prince Two had returned to the capital 
and the Heavenly Sage Emperor had collapsed back into bed.

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