The corridors were long and unending. After every corner was another hall to walk through and the accolade was tiring because the silence was getting awkward and neither of you could do a thing to stop it.  He finally reached a door and slid across the wooden frame before gesturing you inside. You brushed past his chest as you entered the room and he closed the door behind him. It seemed his room was nestled deep inside the imperial palace which made you wonder where the other brothers’ rooms were situated, because the two of you had walked a fair bit to reach here. He fumbled around for some matches to light the lamps and candles. When the flames were burning you realised you were face to face with shelves and shelves of books, all unruly laid some even hung messily open, the pages crinkled and yellowing as a result. Looking around the place, most things were unordered and in chaos. Upon entering the row, there were two columns of book shelves extending deep into the room. The room itself was long instead of wide and the shelves were wooden ornaments framing knowledge bounded in paper. At the end of the shelves was a low table, but you didn't get to look further because the mess just didn't sit well with you. You frowned and instinctively reached over to put them back in their place. As you were ordering his books, his soft chuckle brought you back into this world and you remembered where you were, mumbling a quiet apology.

“No, don’t apologise. You may continue if you wish, but then the night would never end because you’d just have more and more books to order.” He gestured around and sure enough, the whole place was a mess.

You nodded your head and thought to yourself about what the maid had said earlier, “make an impression,” the words rung like the tolling of a temple bell in your head.

“Come, would you like some wine…? Or tea?” He walked deeper into the room, further past the shelves to where you guessed his living chambers were.

“No, thank you, your majesty. I’ll be fine.” You followed him, but never making up for the distance between you.

He paused in his steps and turned around. “Don’t call me your majesty. Luhan would be fine.”

You tried the word on your tongue, “Luhan…” and he seemed pleased. Upon walking deeper into the room, you noticed that he had a low table, with all his calligraphy brushes, ink and paper scrolls. Beyond that was a curtained-cut-off area where you guessed was where he slept. You were getting nervous now that it was starting to dawn on you what was going to happen and you tried to stay as far as physically possible from that hidden mattress and pillows.

 <--something like this

His laugh suddenly brought you out of your thinking and he sat down in a wooden chair at a high table, for serving tea – a set laid out already on the small table but it looked like it had been there for a while. He looked immature in that instant as he sat with his arms straightened, palms clutching the seat between his thighs. “And now I wonder where all the ferocity went from when you were on stage.”

A nervous laugh, bordering on a cough escaped your lips and you stood there dumbly. “I’m much shyer in person, I guess.” With a flick of his head, he ushered you over to the other chair facing the small table; you did so nervously.

Putting an elbow on the table to prop up his chin. “What do you think will happen now?” He asked lightly. You looked at him, slapping yourself mentally that what you were doing now was definitely not making an impression. At this rate, nothing will happen and you weren’t here for nothing. So you switched your approach of attack, eyes almost gleaming now.

“What do you want to happen?” You mirrored his position, cupping your chin and propping your face up on the table. Now the two of you were only inches apart, his breath tracing butterflies on your lips. You realised truly how angelic he looked, sure that it’d make any other girl swoon – any other girl but you because you were here on a mission, with a motive. It was a bad move though, as your pedantic side took over, it was nearly a form of obsessive compulsive disorder and that little stain on his nose mocked you with its existence. Originally planning to make him fall for you, you settled with rubbing the mark off his nose.

“Could you just…” not looking at him in the eyes anymore, you paused as you grabbed the edge of your sleeve, a little of your thumb and the sleeve you reached over to him. He kept his composure, unflinching, and it was a little unnerving the way he stared back at you as if he held complete trust in that instant. You didn’t pay attention though, keeping from staring back at him; his eyes were black holes that any unsuspecting maiden could get trapped in, never to escape. You rubbed at the little stain and it began to ebb away with each brush until it was completely gone. You swear you could have heard its little cries for mercy and you beamed with satisfaction.

“All done,” you whispered. It was all of a sudden tense and his eyes never once left your face. You looked at him, and then it dawned on you – was it because of the vulgar act of your thumb to use it to rub at his nose? Before you could make an excuse though, he smiled at you.

“It really was the right decision to choose you.”

Your chest tightened uncomfortably as he had caught you unabashedly. His boldness made you feel awkward. ‘I’m the one that’s supposed to draw you in, not the other way ‘round,’ you thought, beginning to panic. You drew back quickly but he caught your sleeve just in time, pulling you back towards him.

“Tell me your name.” He breathed profoundly, “I don’t want you to be just a colour.”     

~

AGAIN!

I'll be working hard!