A small emerald, the size of a pebble, hovered in mid-air near the vintage round table. Celine focused his mind, and the emerald swayed left and right. Whether it was the clothing or anything else, nothing satisfied him—especially the shoes, which displeased him most.
Several gems of different shapes and types flew about as if angry, a scene utterly comical. Celine played for about three or four minutes, and when a very faint sound stirred, he still didn’t stop. He even intensified his antics, sending a smooth gemstone hurtling toward the doorway.
Devin caught it masterfully.
“Trying to murder me?” Devin stepped in unhurriedly. All the objects in mid-air immediately plummeted onto the carpet with dull thuds.
Celine lifted his gaze but said nothing. His blue sigil bore an air of untouchable nobility.
Devin bent down and picked up a sleeve from the tray. His tone was unsettlingly ambiguous: “The dress is too tacky, the shoes unsightly, the accessories don’t suit you. The steward is becoming more and more negligent.”
It wasn’t Devin who had given the order. Celine raised his chin and flicked his fingers, and everything returned to its place.
This gesture provoked an inexplicable urge to laugh. Devin let the sleeve slip from his fingers and said, without turning around: “Allen.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Allen hurried a few steps and waited at the door. “What are your orders?”
“Come in.”
Allen was trembling with fear. This was truly the death of him. He had originally intended to share his Duke’s worries and troubles, selecting only the finest items. Who knew his well-meaning act would backfire and displease Devin.
“Take everything to be exchanged.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Allen asked for guidance: “Then… what should they be exchanged for?”
“In his style,” Devin said briefly. “Plain blue. Find a skilled craftsman. The shoes should match the clothing.”
Allen noted everything down, silently grumbling. The person the Duke had brought back was very strange. Even now, he didn’t know the other’s name, nor whether the other could even speak. Normal communication was impossible.
He quietly glanced up once, then lowered his head again. Just good-looking, that’s all.
Alright, not just that.
“Satisfied?”
Celine raised his chin.
Devin dismissed Allen with a wave.
Allen summoned the maids to remove the items from the round table and withdrew as well.
Once no one else was nearby, Devin said: “Come with me to a place.”
He didn’t specify where, and Celine didn’t ask.
The carriage traveled along the road, flanked by tall pines. The setting sun was sinking, tree shadows cast upon the bushes. Celine peered out the small window. The path grew narrower and narrower, with some gravestones faintly visible.
After a bumpy journey, someone announced: “Your Grace, we have arrived.”
This was a cemetery. What set it apart from an ordinary graveyard was that each tombstone here belonged to someone of status in life. White bricks, bundled crosses, roses in full bloom.
【Princess Aili, daughter of Marquis Qianxun, died at age 23.】
Celine walked behind Devin. This gravestone seemed somewhat old, with green vines creeping all over it.
【Princess Fulian, daughter of Duke Niqiu, died at age 24.】
This tombstone was newer than the last.
【Princess Mengke, daughter of Marquis Fuyuan, died at age 25.】
The last tombstone was newer than all the previous ones, with traces of burnt candles still visible. Among the merfolk, death meant dispersion into the world. Because merfolk lived long lives, if they died, they would transform into a drop of water in the deep sea after seven days, leaving no trace behind.
Human lives were far more fragile than merfolk. The twenties were but a fleeting instant.
Rumors in the Central Realm Kingdom said the Second Prince brought death to his wives. Within three years, all three of his fiancées had tragically died. Shortly after the first one passed, the Empress found a second fiancée for Devin. Who knew that in less than five months, she would catch a cold and wither away in the winter.
The Empress seemed somewhat fixated on this matter. She could grant all of Devin’s requests, but the marriage was hers to decide.
The third fiancée was one year younger than Devin. Before boarding the Azure Waves Vessel, Devin received a letter: Mengke had accidentally fallen into a lake.
From then on, the rumor of him bringing death to his wives spread widely, and no one dared send their daughters to the palace for the sake of glory anymore.
Every fiancée had been carefully chosen by Empress Petra. Ridiculous as it was, she had never once asked for Devin’s opinion. Devin was always the one informed, and always the last one informed.
Although Devin had no feelings for them and had only met them a few times, the coincidences seemed too convenient. He always needed to figure out who was pulling the strings behind the scenes, and for what purpose.
“Do you see it? Death.”
Celine stared at the inscriptions for a long time, then spoke, startling everyone.
“There is no aura of death.”
He hadn’t sensed any hint of death from the tombstones. Even if the decayed bodies were gone, leaving only bones, he could still tell whether the living essence had been extinguished.
This meant the deceased were not here—or there were no so-called deceased at all.
“No aura of death,” Devin repeated the words.
A crow cawed, hoarse and grating, suddenly flapping its wings into the air. Branches swayed, startling the horse into stomping its hooves restlessly.
“Are you certain?”
Celine: “Certain. Except for that one.”
Aili’s tombstone.
Devin had visited this cemetery every year for the past three years. If not for Celine, he might have remained in the dark forever.
How dramatic. If death could be faked, then this was a different story. Using Aili’s death as a catalyst, collaborating with the other two fiancées, fabricating rumors about him.
But still, one question: where is the benefit?
Simply defying The Empress’s orders, going through so much trouble just to prevent anyone from becoming his Princess Consort? Or is it a piece in a larger game, waiting for the right moment to close the net?
Who could it be?
Empress Petra, Franlang, or some minister.
A blue butterfly landed on the back of Celine’s hand. He gently stroked its opening and closing wings. “Who were they?”
“Future Princess Consorts chosen by the Empress.”
Celine tilted his head and asked: “Like Wei’er?”
“Not the same,” Devin said. “Franlang and Wei’er are mutually in love.”
The human world was complicated. Why force two people together if there was no genuine affection? Celine couldn’t understand. He released the butterfly. “Will you have a fourth future Princess Consort?”
The waning sun cast an evening glow. The roses were resplendent, a deep crimson of taboo and allure.
Devin spoke slowly: “No.”
——《Dream of the Blue Moon Night》 Middle Volume · Part One
“Perfect.” Li Ran replayed the footage once more, unable to find a single flaw. He smiled at Fan Wenbo: “Jiang Nian and Qinghe are working together better and better.”
Fan Wenbo had watched Lin Qinghe improve. Compared to the beginning, the difference was immense. He agreed with Li Ran: “Lin Qinghe is a treasure, incredibly malleable.”
Li Ran took a sip of tea: “Hmm, I remember before, I’d stay up all night worrying about this film, afraid of messing up the script. Now when I return to the hotel, I fall fast asleep within seconds of hitting the bed. My heart is truly at ease.”
Fan Wenbo burst out laughing: “We’re only just getting started. There’s still a long way to go.”
Li Ran: “True. The revolution has yet to succeed. We must continue to strive.”
Lin Qinghe removed his makeup, changed back into his own clothes, and prepared to head back to the hotel with Xi Nian.
“Good work, everyone. See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow, Teacher Lin.”
“Goodbye, Teacher Lin.”
“See you tomorrow.”
…
Lin Qinghe was well-liked among the crew. His temperament was low-key, humble, and polite. He never threw his weight around and was gentle with everyone. Add to that his good looks—and who doesn’t like dealing with someone good-looking and approachable? Thus, everyone responded warmly.
“It’s only past nine. I bet the banquet isn’t over yet.” Xi Nian and Lin Qinghe got out of the car.
Once night fell, this city became romantic—neon lights, drunken revelry, life lived as if in a dream.
The ornamental fountain made crisp, rustling sounds. Listening to it, Lin Qinghe gradually relaxed from the fatigue of work.
“What do they usually do?”
“Card games, karaoke, billiards,” Xi Nian listed. “Gossiping, drinking while discussing business or collaboration. Hmm… that’s about it.”
There were also less proper entertainments, which she didn’t want to bring up in front of her idol.
Wine was a good thing. Lin Qinghe liked it too—drinking for pleasure, leisurely and content.
In a hidden corner, over a dozen shadowy figures crouched in ambush. They held cameras and microphones, as if preparing for an interview.
With sharp eyes, a man in a black short-sleeved shirt spotted a man and a woman. He turned his head and excitedly prompted: “They’re coming, they’re coming. It’s him—long hair, tall, slender.”
“Move, let’s go.”
“Go, go, go, time to work.”
Lin Qinghe and Xi Nian were nearing the fountain in front of the hotel when they saw over a dozen tall figures charging over with interview equipment. It happened so suddenly. They were caught off guard and surrounded.
Xi Nian reacted quickly, stepping in front of Lin Qinghe with an aggressive stance, questioning sharply: “What do you think you’re doing?!”
Those people didn’t pay Xi Nian any mind. Cameras and microphones were thrust directly into Lin Qinghe’s face, malicious questions hurled at him: “Teacher Lin Qinghe, what are your thoughts on having no works, no acting skills, and rising solely through connections?”
“Teacher Lin, you must know an awful lot of big shots, right? How many sugar daddies did you sleep with to land the role of Celine in Dream of the Blue Moon Night?”
The flashbulbs clicked and flashed.
“Lin Qinghe, could you recommend the plastic surgery clinic where you got your face done? With results this good, I’d like to pass it on to others too.”
“Do you think you’re about to climb to the top of the domestic entertainment scene? How does it feel stepping on your seniors to rise?”
“Just answer, won’t you? What’s the matter? All smiles for the sugar daddies, but putting on airs for us?”
The crowd pressed in. Lin Qinghe was jostled, struggling to keep his balance. Worried for Xi Nian and ignoring the hard equipment, he reached out to pull her close. With his other hand, he pushed away the cameras and microphones near her, shielding her in his arms, his tone stern: “Move aside.”
The reporter grinned cheekily: “Look here, look here. Teacher Lin Qinghe is angry. Humiliated and furious.”
Lin Qinghe was hit under the chin by a microphone. It stung a bit. He tried his best to keep Xi Nian from harm, but with so many people, there were inevitably places he couldn’t protect.
“I’ll say it again. Move aside.”
“And what if I don’t? Teacher Lin Qinghe, it must feel great rolling around on your sugar daddy’s bed, huh?”
Xi Nian was about to go mad, teetering between grievance and rage. She wanted to battle these people for three days and nights, but lacking the physical strength, could only resort to shouting: “You’re all finished!!! I’m telling you, you’re absolutely finished!!!!”
“Hahaha, what is it? Gonna go tattle to your sugar daddy? You hear that? Lin Qinghe is gonna go tell his sugar daddy. Tonight’s trending topic will be: Lin Qinghe, when asked about rising through unspoken rules, flies into a rage and prepares to complain to his sugar daddy, getting these reporters… un… employed…”
“Ah! Ah!”
In that split second, the man speaking’s voice became panicked and shrill. The objects thrust in Lin Qinghe’s face disappeared. His forearm touched the warmth of a palm. His back pressed against a firm, powerful chest. From behind him came a voice like ice:
“Scram.”
