Zanyang curled his lips in disappointment and stared out the window toward the An Estate across the way.
Meanwhile, in the Prime Minister’s residence, Shangguan Ye arrived at the place where Zhao Xiru was being held.
The courtyard was eerily quiet.
As soon as he appeared, the surrounding guards quickly knelt to pay their respects.
Shangguan Ye lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture and walked straight toward the heavily guarded room. He pushed the door open—inside, the room looked like a junkyard, an utter mess.
He glanced around, but didn’t see Zhao Xiru anywhere. His eyes suddenly turned cold. Without even turning his head, his body shifted slightly as he raised his hand and struck. Instantly, a figure flew out of hiding, slammed into the pristine white wall, and crashed to the floor with a loud thud. A mouthful of blood splattered as a golden hairpin clattered to the ground.
Zhao Xiru clutched her chest, gasping for air. She coughed weakly—her voice hoarse from days of crying and screaming. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hair disheveled. Gone was any trace of the once-pampered princess. Now she looked more like a crazed beggar woman.
Yuxiang stood coldly at the door, watching Zhao Xiru with all the last remnants of pity drained from her eyes, replaced entirely by murderous intent.
Shangguan Ye let out a cold laugh, staring at Zhao Xiru with mocking disdain as he stood with hands clasped behind his back. “You tried to kill me?”
His tone ridiculed her foolish delusion.
Zhao Xiru turned her head slightly, propped herself up against the wall, and said in a raspy, feeble voice, “I want to see him. I want to see Brother Feng. Let me see him—let me see Murong Qiufeng!”
By the end, she was practically screaming, followed by another fit of violent coughing. She looked utterly pitiful.
But to Shangguan Ye, it meant absolutely nothing. If anything, it only made him feel pleased. His chest felt lighter—delighted, even. He raised an eyebrow and sat down gracefully in the chair Yuxiang had prepared. “Oh? You want to see him? And why is that?”
“Hmph. Don’t think you’ll get anything out of me,” she snapped, her voice cold and sharp. “I said it before—I’ll only tell him. Let me see him and I’ll tell everything. Otherwise, I’d rather die than say a single word.”
She was surprisingly defiant, stubbornly glaring back at him.
Shangguan Ye smirked, his eyes gleaming with chilling light. His killing intent was palpable. Just this brat dared to covet his person? Dared to compete with him? Ridiculous.
“Heh. Do you think that’s your trump card? That holding your tongue gives you any advantage?” His voice was cruel and calm. “What if I told you Murong Qiufeng has already gone to round up the remaining traitors? What would you think then?”
“That’s impossible,” Zhao Xiru’s eyes widened in disbelief. She rejected the notion immediately.
“And why is it impossible?” Shangguan Ye’s mocking smile deepened as he stood up and slowly walked toward her, towering over her. He bent down slightly and said darkly, “You think you’re clever, but your naïve little brain only gets people killed. Zhao Kangliang’s scheme wasn’t bad, but he chose the wrong piece. You. In the end, it cost him the whole game. If you ask me, his greatest failure in life… was giving birth to you. Stupid girl.”
His words were utterly ruthless, throwing the full weight of the blame onto her shoulders—making her feel both guilty for betraying her country and for hurting Murong Qiufeng.
Zhao Xiru stared up at him, eyes bloodshot and shaking her head over and over. “No. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault!”
“Hmph. If it’s not your fault, then whose is it?” Shangguan Ye sneered. “You nearly destroyed the entire Murong family. You got Qiufeng’s older brother killed. And because you kept hesitating, your father’s carefully crafted plan fell apart. Song Yicheng’s entire faction was caught in one sweep. In the end, you’re hated on both sides. So tell me—whose fault is it? What’s the point of someone like you even being alive?”
“No! You’re lying!” Zhao Xiru’s already fragile sanity started to crumble under his calculated attack.
Shangguan Ye looked down at her, eyes ice-cold. “You know what your biggest mistake was?”
Zhao Xiru looked up, dazed and unfocused, but instinctively waited for his answer.
“You dared to covet something that never belonged to you,” Shangguan Ye said. “Murong Qiufeng… belongs to me. Remember that. He is mine.”
Zhao Xiru blinked, as if the words couldn’t quite register. “What do you mean?”
Shangguan Ye straightened up. “There’s no Murong Qiu Jun in my household. Only Murong Qiufeng. From the beginning, he has been my princess consort—and he always will be. If you weren’t still somewhat useful, just for thinking of him that way… I’d have killed you long ago.”
“You’re lying! That’s not true! He would never—” Zhao Xiru suddenly snapped. She surged forward with unexpected strength, grabbed Shangguan Ye by the collar, and screamed, “You’re lying to me!”
Shangguan Ye didn’t stop her. Instead, he simply smiled, smug and satisfied.
“Oh, and by the way,” he added slowly, “He’s mine, completely mine—body and soul.”
Zhao Xiru’s pupils shrank violently. As a royal, she instantly understood what he meant. The pride, the challenge in his eyes were like daggers. They pierced her heart, made her breath catch in pain, and set her mind spinning toward madness.
“You’re lying… You have to be… I’ll kill you! If you’re dead, he’ll be mine! He’s mine!” she shrieked, yanking a hairpin from her hair and lunging at him, howling like a madwoman.
Shangguan Ye didn’t budge. He watched her with amusement, smug and unbothered.
Even Yuxiang didn’t move to stop her—she just sighed, thinking, My lord really has stooped to the level of fighting over a man with a little girl.
But just as the pin was about to strike, a furious shout rang out:
“STOP!”
The shout startled Zhao Xiru into momentary hesitation. But it was enough. That instant of delay sealed her fate. No—truthfully, she was doomed from the start.
Murong Qiufeng flashed to Shangguan Ye’s side in a heartbeat. His hand locked around Zhao Xiru’s wrist, twisting it with a sharp crack. She let out a piercing scream as she was thrown to the floor. It wasn’t as brutal as when Shangguan Ye had hit her before, but she still looked just as pitiful.
Murong Qiufeng’s heart had nearly jumped out of his throat. His actions were pure instinct, no hesitation at all. In that moment, he didn’t care who it was—only whether Shangguan Ye was safe.
He quickly turned and gripped Shangguan Ye’s shoulders in a panic. “Are you hurt anywhere? Are you okay?”
