Wu Chen's POV

  Wu Chen woke up feeling like his throat had been sandpapered.

  Dry. Burning. Tragic.

  Half-asleep and barely functioning, he dragged himself upright. His eyes were ninety percent closed — just enough vision to avoid walking into obvious disaster. He had done this routine a thousand times before. Even with a massive headache, he could navigate his dorm room perfectly.

  It wasn't that big anyway.

  Kitchen. Left turn. Two steps. Water. Survival.

  Easy.

  Except—

  On his usual left turn, instead of stepping through a doorway, he smacked straight into a wall.

  A solid wall.

  He blinked slowly.

  "…Bro."

  Annoyed, he slapped the wall lazily.

  "Move please. I need water."

  He assumed it was one of his older team members playing a prank.

  No answer.

  He frowned and pushed the wall again.

  Still there.

  He cracked one eye open.

  Then the other halfway.

  Carved ceiling beams.

  Hanging silk drapes.

  Lantern light.

  Definitely not IKEA.

  Wu Chen slapped his own face once.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  Nothing changed.

  His chaotic brain tried to process it.

  It failed.

  And then—

  "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH—!"

  One scream.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Then another.

  And a third, louder than the previous two.

  "SHUT UP!"

  A familiar voice cut through his chaos.

  Wu Chen froze mid-scream.

  He turned.

  There — sitting up at a wooden table, hair slightly messy, looking extremely annoyed —

  "Huang Rui?!"

  Wu Chen jumped off the bed and practically tackled him in joy.

  "You're here! You're here! I'm not dead!"

  ?

  Huang Rui's POV

  Huang Rui valued two things deeply:

  His visuals.

  And his beauty sleep.

  And both had just been violently attacked.

  He rubbed his temple, glaring at Wu Chen. "Can you not scream at this hour? As the visual of the group, I need sleep."

  Before he could finish complaining, a hand slapped his shoulder.

  Then his face.

  He immediately stood up, nearly knocking over the wooden chair.

  "Wu Chen! What did you do now?!"

  Two hands grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him back and forth.

  "Wake up! Wake up properly!" Wu Chen insisted.

  "I am awake!"

  "Not enough!"

  Finally, Huang Rui forced his eyes fully open.

  And then—

  He froze.

  Silk curtains.

  Ancient calligraphy.

  Wooden screens.

  Zero modern furniture.

  He blinked slowly.

  "…This is not funny."

  —

  It took nearly an hour for the two of them to calm down.

  They tried everything.

  Pinching each other.

  Hard.

  Throwing water at each other.

  Pulling each other's hair.

  Slapping their own cheeks.

  Nothing worked.

  The room remained ancient.

  They remained in historical clothing.

  They eventually sat down across from each other, breathing heavily.

  Huang Rui, always slightly more composed despite his dramatic nature, lifted a hand.

  "Okay. One of us should call out to see if anyone's outside."

  Without thinking —

  "ANYONE OUTSIDE?!" Wu Chen shouted immediately.

  Huang Rui closed his eyes in second-hand embarrassment.

  The doors opened almost instantly.

  Two attendants entered.

  One stepped toward Wu Chen. "My lord."

  The other bowed to Huang Rui. "My lord."

  Wu Chen and Huang Rui looked at each other. Then burst into quiet, disbelieving laughter.

  "Did you hear that?" Wu Chen whispered. "My lord."

  "Shh!" Huang Rui elbowed him.

  They finally noticed the attendants' clothing — fully ancient robes. Proper posture. Formal etiquette.

  This was not cosplay.

  Despite Wu Chen's chaotic personality and Huang Rui's dramatic tendencies, years of idol training and public relations classes kicked in.

  Control your face.

  Control your reaction.

  Smile naturally.

  Observe.

  With just one glance between them, they reached the same conclusion.

  Go with the flow.

  Attendant Ng bowed to Huang Rui. "Is it time to return home after last night's drinking with Your Highness's siblings?"

  Huang Rui paused dramatically… then nodded with elegant restraint.

  Wu Chen copied the same expression.

  "Yes. Return."

  Both attendants seemed satisfied.

  —

  As Wu Chen and Huang Rui stepped outside

  They froze.

  Again.

  Their eyes widened so much it looked physically painful.

  They were inside what appeared to be a high-end ancient social establishment.

  Red rope decorations hung from the ceiling. Musical instruments rested on carved stands. Ornate wooden tables lined the hall.

  It was quiet due to the early hour. Only a female manager stood behind the counter.

  She smiled politely. "See you again, dear Prince Wu Chen and Prince Rui Huang."

  Both nearly tripped.

  Prince?

  PRINCE?

  They somehow managed to keep their composure — barely — tightening their grip on each other's hands.

  Neither attendant found this strange.

  Prince Wu Chen had always been chaotic.

  Prince Rui Huang had always been dramatic.

  This was normal.

  For the first time in their entire friendship, Wu Chen and Huang Rui held hands tightly, walking side by side like two children lost in a theme park.

  Outside, two separate horse carriages waited.

  Attendant Miao gestured proudly. "Your carriage, Prince Wu Chen."

  Due to sheer nervousness and zero logic, Huang Rui climbed into Wu Chen's carriage with him.

  That—

  Finally—

  Made the attendants pause.

  Prince Wu Chen and Prince Rui Huang are siblings, yes. But they do have different mothers.

  And no two princes ever rode in the same carriage.

  Not in a palace where throne politics existed.

  Attendant Ng hurried forward. "Your Highness, please—"

  Huang Rui looked down elegantly. "Why?"

  Attendant Ng leaned closer and whispered about safety, court rumors, political perception.

  Huang Rui listened.

  Then calmly asked, "How far are our residences? Is it far from each other?"

  "Not far, Your Highness. They are next to each other."

  Satisfied, Huang Rui nodded. "Good. I will go with him. Meet me at his front gate."

  And with that, he stepped fully into Wu Chen's carriage.

  Attendant Ng scratched his head, confused, but could only bow and comply.

  —

  Inside the carriage, silence filled the space.

  For once, Wu Chen did not speak.

  For once, Huang Rui did not complain.

  They stared ahead, hands still subtly gripping each other's sleeves.

  Neither dared talk too much.

  Neither dared slip.

  Because one wrong word—

  And they would be exposed and might get kill for being a prince imposter.

  Only heaven knew what awaited them back at their so-called homes.

  And somewhere inside Tie Shan Gong…

  The red moon's prophecy tightened its invisible thread.