“Bastard! Who told you to touch him? Didn’t I say, don’t touch him?” A sharp slap echoed through the room, followed by a piercing roar.
There were five people in the room. The one speaking was a beautiful woman, and three men in plain clothes were kneeling on the ground. Judging by their kneeling posture, they seemed to be well-trained soldiers or assassins. The one in the lead raised his head, his face expressionless, with four bright red finger marks clearly visible. On the other side of the room, a man dressed in blue sat at a table, seemingly indifferent, leisurely drinking tea.
The man had an ordinary appearance, though upon closer inspection, he was somewhat handsome. However, in a crowd of ordinary people, his face would be hard to remember after just one glance.
The woman speaking was Zhao Xiru, who had been missing for days and was believed to be dead. Her face was now pale, and her eyes were full of fury. After venting, she still felt unsatisfied and quickly turned her attention to the man drinking tea at the table. She walked over swiftly and knocked the teacup out of his hand.
The teacup hit the floor with a crisp sound, followed by the splashing of tea.
Zhao Xiru narrowed her eyes and stared intensely at the man. “Song Yicheng, don’t think I don’t know the small tricks you’ve been playing behind my back. I warn you again, do not lay a finger on that person. If you dare touch a single hair on him, I will never let you off. This time, I’ll spare you for your father’s sake. But from now on, you better stay in line.”
“Heh, Princess, the last part of that sentence should be something I say. If it weren’t for you losing your mind that day and exposing our people, we wouldn’t have been discovered, and we wouldn’t have lost so many capable helpers. Princess, Murong Qiufeng isn’t just the son of the prime minister. He’s also someone from Prince Ye’s camp, making him our enemy. It’s hard for Yicheng to take the sides you’re taking. Perhaps Yicheng should consult the Emperor on this matter.”
“Song Yicheng, are you threatening me?” Zhao Xiru’s eyes were filled with murderous intent as she stared coldly at him.
Song Yicheng sneered. “Princess, don’t forget we have a betrothal. You’re still my fiancée, and if you’re so intent on another man, shouldn’t I, as the rightful groom, make some resistance?”
Zhao Xiru’s fury was further stoked by Song Yicheng’s mocking words. She grabbed his collar, her voice icy as she said, “Song Yicheng, stop dreaming. I will never marry you. My father has promised me that if this matter is handled well, the engagement will be dissolved. Don’t think too highly of yourself.” She then shoved him away, releasing his collar.
Song Yicheng seemed to be used to her harsh words. He casually adjusted his collar and said nonchalantly, “What’s so great about Murong Qiufeng? He’s just a pretty boy with a good face. If Princess were to fall for someone like Prince Ye, I could understand. But Murong Qiufeng…”
The sound of a slap rang through the room, as Song Yicheng’s face turned slightly, his cheek stinging. “Song Yicheng, don’t make me warn you again. If you dare to insult him or make a move against him, believe me, I will make sure your end is far from pleasant. The Song family will not be spared either.”
For the first time, Song Yicheng’s face darkened. His eyes seemed to be swirling with an internal storm, but it was quickly suppressed. He coldly laughed and said, “Zhao Xiru, the kingdoms of Zhao and Yan are destined to be enemies. This time, you’ve already put Murong Qiufeng’s family in danger. Do you think you’ll end up together with him? Or are you planning to marry into his family?”
Zhao Xiru turned her head coldly and sneered. “That’s none of your business. Just remember my words.”
With that, she left the room with large strides.
As soon as she left, Song Yicheng’s expression turned gloomy. His eyes were dark, filled with venom, and it was clear that he was transferring all the humiliation and resentment onto Murong Qiufeng. While he might not be able to move against him for now, he could use Murong Qiufeng to get back at Zhao Xiru.
The proud princess would regret her actions one day.
In the dark of night, a shadowy figure quietly approached the wall of a courtyard, too afraid to come too close. The figure gazed intently at the courtyard, as if trying to see something through the walls.
It was Zhao Xiru.
Today, she had seen the notice posted about finding a doctor for Murong Qiufeng and learned that he had been seriously injured. This news had triggered her earlier outburst, and now, after the fury had passed, only concern remained.
She wasn’t sure why she cared so much about someone she had only known for a few days, but perhaps it was because of the gentle compassion he had shown her.
She wasn’t an unloved princess. On the contrary, no princess was more favored than she. To outsiders, she seemed to be the happiest princess, but she knew the truth—that all the love and concern were hollow, driven by fear of her.
Her father only cared for her because of her talent and potential. Her mother, too, was afraid of her, fearing her soul-stealing abilities. The rest of the people who cared for her only did so out of obligation or fear. Yet Zhao Xiru took pleasure in the hollow praise, using her position to indulge in luxury and power, ensuring she would never be wronged.
But Murong Qiufeng was different. That fleeting tenderness had deeply imprinted on her heart. The warmth he showed her, without any ulterior motive, made her feel that maybe she could be an ordinary woman, a woman who was truly cared for.
It was then that she thought: if she could be with Murong Qiufeng, she would be the real Zhao Xiru, not the seventh princess. At least in his eyes, she would simply be Zhao Xiru. Even that day on the boat, when Murong Qiufeng had scolded her and seemed angry, she had been inexplicably happy.
Murong Qiufeng’s tenderness was like poison. Once it entered her veins, it was impossible to escape.
So even though she knew there might be nothing between him and that woman, when she saw them together, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling intense jealousy, enough to disregard everything and want to kill the woman.
With a heavy sigh, Zhao Xiru turned and quickly left, her heart weighed down with sorrow. Song Yicheng’s words had reminded her that their relationship was not just one of opposition but had also harmed his family. Now, he must hate her deeply.
Lost in thought, she failed to notice a pair of eyes already fixed on her, the red shadow in the dark flitting by like an eerie red light.
The next morning, Murong Qiufeng was placed in a carriage and taken to the palace by Prince Ye. It was said that his injuries had worsened, and no one from the prime minister’s residence was allowed to see him. In reality, it was all a show for one person: Murong Hao.
“Master, the prince and Sixth Young Master have entered the palace,” an old voice sounded from inside the room.
Murong Hao stood by a table, absentmindedly poking at a koi fish in a water tank with a bamboo stick. Upon hearing the old man’s words, he simply responded with a faint “Mm,” his face devoid of emotion. But his eyes betrayed a hint of darkness, and in a moment of distraction, one of the koi suddenly thrashed, splashing water everywhere after the bamboo stick had accidentally poked its eye.
