MTCCP Chapter 9

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        Hua Muzhi looked over the book, chuckling, "You really did find it."

        He had actually thought of this before leaving, mentioning it casually to Steward Cao, and it seemed they had understood each other perfectly.

        The wind outside was strong, so they went back to the living room on the first floor, leaning against the velvet sofa and chatting. The dog lay on the floor next to the coffee table, curled up like a little blanket, its long, fluffy tail swishing lazily.

        "I really like the classic literature in your study too," Yue Yiwan said with ease as the topic came up, "but popular novels are easier to read without much thought. I read a lot of them while studying abroad."

        Hua Muzhi had an attendant take the book back to his bedroom, sipping tea for a while before speaking, "I only started using the internet in recent years."

        "Then… Jinjiang…"

        "Jinjiang?" He looked slightly puzzled. "Is that the book's author?"

        Yue Yiwan stifled a laugh, went to his room to get his tablet, and began explaining the whole backstory to him.

        When celebrities don’t understand popular internet slang during interviews, it sometimes seems like they're putting on a show. But the reality is that people with busy schedules or those in isolated environments might genuinely have no idea about online trends.

        For them, phones and computers are just tools for communication—they don’t have time for social media or gaming, so they have no exposure to these things, making them seem clueless at times. Terms like “pig’s hoof” might just mean food, “silly goose” might sound like a type of bird, and various odd abbreviations would be even harder to grasp.

        Understanding Hua Muzhi’s unfamiliarity with these things, Yue Yiwan opened the Jinjiang app, showing him the array of works and crossovers on the platform.

        "This is one of China's most well-known literary websites," Yue Yiwan explained, "It not only hosts a vast collection of quality novels but also continuously connects with multiple licensing platforms, bringing a wealth of excellent media works to East Asia and even the world."

        He described how, back in 2018, this website’s app was maintained by just four programmers, with frequent glitches and crashes that made the servers rather temperamental. But now, ten years later, the app not only seamlessly integrates with TV and radio drama platforms but also allows users to play games adapted from novels with just a click, making it extremely convenient.

        “Remember the topic we talked about last time?” Yue Yiwan set down the tablet, his expression turning more serious. "Have you ever considered using the internet to pursue a second career, one that you actually enjoy?"

        It sounded almost absurd and laughable. Hua Muzhi, with his noble background, was destined to live a life of wealth and privilege, with no need to take up a second job to make money. And with his status, there was no reason for him to lower himself and start from scratch, wasting time on an unfamiliar platform.

        Hua Muzhi lowered his gaze, clearly about to refuse. Painting and writing were things he indulged in his study, purely for personal enjoyment—there was no need to share them with others.

        “Wait a moment,” Yue Yiwan said, grabbing his sleeve and moving closer. “I hope you understand what I mean. This isn’t about fame or fortune; it’s about being understood.”

        Being… understood?

        Hua Muzhi looked at him, feeling something shift within him.

        "At least on the internet, you can be heard," Yue Yiwan said, his brows furrowing. "Just think about it."

        He wasn’t usually one to meddle in others’ affairs, nor was there any need to encourage someone as distinguished as Hua Muzhi to do something like this. But he could clearly sense a pervasive loneliness about the crown prince. Humans, by nature, are eternally solitary creatures, and even with all the wealth, status, and attendants around him, Hua Muzhi couldn’t escape it.

        The lonelier one is, the stronger the desire to be heard and understood. If Hua Muzhi were to talk about these things with those in the palace, it would indeed cross a line and disrupt order. But online, no one knew his real identity, nor would they judge him for it.

        “I’d rather not,” Hua Muzhi said softly, "I don’t think I need that."

        Is it that he shouldn’t, or simply that he isn’t allowed to?

        Yue Yiwan looked at him steadily, then stood up and left the room. Hua Muzhi looked up, feeling a twinge of regret. Somehow, he sensed that this young man might be someone who could hear the things he’d never said. But he wasn’t convinced that being heard by more people was a good thing. He’d lived under the media’s watchful eye since he was young, with no choices in career or marriage, just to fulfill the public’s expectations of royalty. He’d long grown accustomed to giving up things, like a tamed beast in an enclosure.

        He set down his teacup, intending to return to his bedroom and read the book. He’d once asked a palace maid to sneak in a few books for him, but after she disappeared, he hadn’t felt comfortable asking anyone else.

        Just as he was about to get up, the quick clacking of geta sandals echoed through the corridor.

        By now, Yue Yiwan had fully mastered the art of wearing geta, walking with a confident stride like a young office worker in heels. Holding a water bottle and a pen, he walked in swiftly, his wide sleeves fluttering like butterfly wings.

        "Come with me."

        Before Hua Muzhi could react, he found himself being led outside. Two attendants started to follow but quickly stopped when Yue Yiwan waved them off.

        “Where are we going?”

        Yue Yiwan led him through a small courtyard and down a concealed path used by palace servants.

        "This is a hidden path where nobles and royals won’t come," Yue Yiwan said, shaking the special water-reactive pen in his hand and passing it to Hua Muzhi. "And from the second floor where we dine, you can see this spot perfectly."

        Hua Muzhi, still struggling to follow, looked at the pen and asked, "What are we doing here?"

        “The ink in this pen is special; it only appears when it encounters water.” Yue Yiwan crouched down, turning on the flashlight on his phone to illuminate a slate stone. "Try writing a poem here."

        "A poem?" Hua Muzhi chuckled, amused by his friend’s peculiar idea. “If I’m going to write a poem, why write it here?”

        Writing on a wall would be a blatant display, drawing too much attention. But writing on the slate? Who would see it?

        “You don’t have to write the traditional poems the elders like—write something that’s truly yours.” Yue Yiwan looked at him, his eyes bright with reflected light. “Starting tomorrow, there will be days of rain. Do you think anyone will come to read it?”

        On a clear day, the poem would remain invisible like dust floating in the air. But with a little rain, it would reveal itself on the slate, like a hidden secret.

        The alley stretched on, long and shadowed, with not a glimmer of palace lanterns to penetrate its darkness. Standing together before the stone slabs, they seemed like travelers in a dark forest.

        "Alright," Hua Muzhi said suddenly.

        He carefully crouched down, and Yue Yiwan immediately reached out to lift the hem of his robe, as if gently holding a phoenix's feathers, afraid it might brush against the muddy ground.

        With the light from Yue Yiwan’s phone, Hua Muzhi held the pen and carefully wrote on the stone, stroke by stroke. The silvery letters appeared for a fleeting moment, vanishing almost instantly. By the time he had finished writing three lines, the steps were pristine once more, leaving no trace.

        Watching intently, Yue Yiwan waited until he was sure Hua Muzhi was done. Then he took out the half-full water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and sprinkled some water over the stone.

        As the droplets splashed, three lines of silvery poetry emerged:

        Since childhood, I have been alone

        Watching over

        Generations of stars.

        Yue Yiwan was taken aback, instinctively raising his gaze to look at Hua Muzhi.

        Hua Muzhi lowered his head, his eyes fixed on the words, silent.

        The summer wind blew between them, evaporating the moisture quickly, and with it, the silver letters faded away once more.

        “I think I might rather like this place,” Hua Muzhi murmured as he slowly rose to his feet. Yue Yiwan switched off the flashlight, and they fell back into the void-like darkness. Silent, everything submerged in the night, as if even their own existence was indiscernible.

        Yue Yiwan turned slightly to look at him, then broke into a soft smile.

        “The two of us,” he said, “do a pretty good job pretending in the eyes of the world.”

        But it seemed only today that he truly saw Hua Muzhi for who he was. It felt as if all his gentleness and restraint were merely the final resignation of someone who had given up struggling.

        "When I was a child, I used to sneak up to the highest point in the Changyao Hall to look out over the night view of Lindu," Hua Muzhi began, his voice breaking the stillness. Here, even the cicadas seemed absent.

        His voice was clear, pure, touched by a hint of nostalgia.

        In the skies above Lindu, there were no stars. The city’s overdeveloped tourism brought unavoidable pollution, and on rare occasions, a few faint stars dotted the sky over the city center. But from the high vantage point of Changyao Hall, the entire city was immersed in a river of lights.

        Neon signs flared like passing comets, car lights streamed in waves, a river of brilliance flowing outside the Suoming Palace. Street lamps and city lights flickered like stars, and midnight was never silent.

        Since childhood, I have been alone, 

        Watching over generations of stars.

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