The palace is a maze of suspicion. Xiéyàn escalated the hunt for the "assassin," stationing guard outside Yǔlín's quarters in the name of keeping him safe. But Yǔlín is well aware of what is really going on — he is being watched. Xiéyàn takes this as an opportunity to further manipulate the king, quietly intimating that Yǔlín might be keeping the assassin in secret himself.
Yǔlín's health is declining rapidly, at this time he realizes something is wrong with him that its not fatigue at all, appears he has been poisoned but who could have done that?- my maids? - yulin daydreaming. His respirations in heavy pants, and cold sweat glistening on his forehead. In one corner of his room, he hacks up blood, quickly wiping it off before Su Shu or Wuji can spot it. Wuji, though, becomes more suspicious. "Are you sure you're alright?" Wuji questions, eyes narrowed. Yǔlín fakes a smirk. "Just exhausted."
Su Shu senses the walls closing in on her. The added vigilance has made her feel like an animal in a cage. The guards look at her for too long, and hushed comments trail behind her everywhere she goes. She can't, however, escape the chilling recollection of Yǔlín's true face — his searing, gold eyes that seemed to look directly into her soul. The mask of the prince is a tormenting emblem of what he keeps hidden, and Su Shu questions whether anyone other than her has actually looked into him.
It is late evening when Yǔlín returns to his quarters. His muscles tense, straining against his garments, his breathing laboring, he walks in. Su Shu can sense his fatigue and, despite her better sense, goes to him. "Are you alright?"
Yǔlín's gold eyes glint behind the mask as he growls, "Stay back."
But Su Shu refuses to listen. She seizes his arm, pulling him back to her face. His face is an inch from hers, his hot breath on her skin.
"Why do you continue to push me aside?" Su Shu asks, her eyes fixed on his.
Yǔlín hunches closer, his mouth only an eyelash's width from her ear. "Because I don't want to hurt you."
Su Shu is shaking, yet won't back down. "Or perhaps it's because you're hurting?"
For an instant, Yǔlín's resolve falters. His grasp on her wrist grows tighter, his jaw clenched. The air is charged between them, heavy with something dark, magnetic, nearly dangerous.
But as suddenly, he draws back, his mask of detachment falling back into position. The queen invites Xiéyàn to tea, her face one of distress and anxiety. "I can hardly credit that anyone would attempt to set up my Yǔlín," she says, tears welling up in her eyes. Xiéyàn gives a nod, but there is something glinting in his eye as he discloses that Yǔlín has been put under surveillance by order of the king. The queen's eyes go wide, and an unsteady hand is pushed to her mouth. "Oh, poor Yǔlín. he must be simply terrified."