On the other end, hearing the words ”Lu, you beast,” the person was about to explode.
The retort was already on the tip of his tongue, but the moment he realized it was Jiang Miao—a woman who never held back with her words—he forcibly swallowed his anger.
He couldn’t be bothered to argue with her over something like this.
Then his tone changed, brimming with laughter, all of it mockery: ”Oh—Lord Earl. My congratulations on your ennoblement are still overdue.”
He bit down hard on the word ”ennoblement.”
“I have to say, your luck really is something. Even the king has been replaced, and yet you’re still alive.”
Jiang Miao didn’t take the bait.
She drew a breath and dragged the conversation back on track: ”Your brother has gone simple-minded. You all abandoned him at the academy alone, without even a single attendant. He was crouching on the ground, stuffing into his mouth Starfruit that others had trampled to mush. If word of this gets out, whose face gets lost?”
On the other end, as if someone had pinched his nose shut, he gave a snort.
“You still have the mood to attend school?” The challenge had barely surfaced before he pressed it back down.
His tone suddenly collapsed: “Every famous doctor in the world has seen him. They all say it can’t be cured—it’s up to fate. So you pity him? He once dumped an entire bowl of rice on my head. He splashed drink in Mother’s face—three times in a row. Mother was so enraged on the spot that her blood pressure spiked, and she stayed in bed for days without getting up.”
His voice rose an inch, then he forcibly shoved it back down, hissing: “My shoulder still hurts to this day. He grabbed a dinner tray and hurled it at me—the bruise took more than half a month to fade.”
The words came out in a rush, as if they’d been bottled up for a long time. But then the ending abruptly cut off.
As if he’d realized he’d lost his composure.
He cleared his throat, pressed down that wave of disgust, and switched to a breezy, careless tone: “Besides, he’s the one who insisted on going to the academy. He loves studying—let him study, then…”
Then he couldn’t hold it in.
A laugh. Contemptuous, squeezed out through his nostrils, carrying a ticklish little gleam of spiteful delight.
“Even being an idiot takes learning. All those people who couldn’t stand him before… they’ll teach him properly.”
As the words fell, the laughter became even harder to suppress.
Wave after wave, cackling, as if he’d thoroughly enjoyed saying it.
Jiang Miao pinched the pad of her finger.
Beside her, Lu Shengzhou was crouching on the ground, and suddenly stopped fidgeting.
He tilted his head up and blinked.
The tip of his nose was red, tears welling in his eyes without falling—as if he’d heard a voice.
A familiar one. One he’d heard many times before. Malicious.
His mouth flattened, and he looked a little frightened.
The fire in Jiang Miao’s chest shot up in an instant, burning all the way to her throat.
A prince. A king. Attendants in droves. Silks and delicacies.
With so many people, so many hands, they couldn’t take care of one simple-minded man?
It was nothing more than this: Lu Shengzhou used to be too dazzling—his brilliance blinded people.
Now that he’d gone simple-minded, they felt sick at the very sight of him.
They couldn’t accept the fall, feared the humiliation, feared people saying “Look, that once-favored son of heaven is ruined—he’s an idiot now.”
They had no love for him. Only expectations and jealousy.
When expectations fell through, they lost face. And the jealous ones wanted revenge.
So they tossed him away.
Let everyone see what he had become, and then they could say: See? How pitiful. How much we suffer.
Pah. The whole family. Truly not human.
Jiang Miao’s jaw tightened.
She stared at the six golden-haired men across from her, her voice rising:
“You think he’s a burden. Simple-minded, useless—left at the academy to fend for himself. Fine. You don’t want him.”
She drew a breath.
“I want him!”
The three words slammed down like a hammer on the table.
The person on the other end of the transmission went silent for a few seconds.
Fu Chengwang’s eyebrows twitched.
The five lackeys beside him exchanged glances.
Then came a couple of snickers from the other end—surprised, but also carrying a kind of amused mockery: “He’s a complete idiot and you still want him? Should’ve skipped the annulment letter and just shipped him over to you in a package. A pauper and an idiot—what a perfect match.”
The laughter grew louder. “If you want to keep him, then keep him. From today on, he has nothing to do with the Country of Blan. No matter what happens from now on, you’re not allowed to send him back.”
The transmission cut off.
Jiang Miao hadn’t even had the chance to yell back.
She stared down at the darkened Astrarium for two seconds, then felt something gently brush against her wrist.
Lu Shengzhou had somehow gotten to his feet.
He was more than a head taller than her, yet he was bending slightly, bringing his face close to hers.
In those hollow, dried-out eyes, a very faint, very thin light had surfaced.
Then he smiled. Quietly, carefully.
He took a step toward her. The toe of his boot lightly touching the tip of her shoe.
“Mumu.”
He held something out to her.
A thin vine, bent into a rough circle, with a few pink flowers threaded through it.
Messy, broken. A precarious kind of beauty.
Jiang Miao reached out and took it.
She raised her other hand and used her thumb to wipe away the bits of fruit pulp stuck to the corner of his mouth.
As her fingertip brushed the corner of his lips, he obediently stayed still, his lashes fluttering twice—then suddenly he tilted his face and nuzzled into her palm.
Like a cat getting scratched under the chin, he lifted his head after nuzzling and looked at her, eyes sparkling, as if confirming something.
Jiang Miao found it adorable.
She pressed down the corners of her mouth, then pulled him behind her, blocking the six blonds’ view.
“You heard what was just said. He’s mine now.”
Fu Chengwang’s brow furrowed.
He looked Jiang Miao up and down again—the tattered backpack, the old jacket, the mud on her shoes…
Then he suddenly bent over laughing, his knees shaking: “Oh my god! You’re Jiang Mu! That washed-up Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Nie! Wearing rags and carrying a broken backpack—and you’re going to keep him? Why don’t you both just follow us! At least you wouldn’t have to live scraping rotten fruit off the ground…”
Before the words even landed—
A low roar exploded from behind her.
Lu Shengzhou charged out from beside her shoulder.
When they’d stomped on the Starfruit, he’d cowered. When they’d grabbed his wrist, he’d shrunk back. When they’d insulted him, all he could do was shake his head and say “no.”
Now he charged out.
Like a spring that had been held down too long suddenly snapping loose—no technique, no form, just a wild lunge.
He slammed his whole body into Fu Chengwang’s chest, knocking him to the ground.
Then he straddled his chest, all ten fingers seizing that dazzling blond hair, yanking and pulling, whipping Fu Chengwang’s head back and forth like a rattle-drum.
Fu Chengwang’s screams shot up, shrill as a dog whose tail had been stepped on.
The five yellow-haired lackeys beside them froze for two seconds before reacting.
Then they pounced like madmen, locking Lu Shengzhou’s arms from behind, hauling him off Fu Chengwang, and slamming him to the ground.
The back of his head hit the ground—a dull thud. His body bounced once, limbs splayed.
Then those boots rose, soles aimed at his face, about to stomp down.
Jiang Miao sucked in a sharp breath and shouted: “Nan Xi!”
The backpack had already been yanked off her shoulder, swung around, and hurled out.
The bag whirled through the air with a dull whoosh, tracing an arc—it slammed into the first man’s chest, bounced up and cracked into the second man’s shoulder blade, then landed with a smack right across the third man’s face.
One bag, three dogs down. The original owner’s signature move!
All three dropped where they stood, like trees felled at the waist.
The remaining two had barely turned around before Nan Xi was already airborne.
Two short little legs pushed off the ground for leverage, spun half a turn in midair—one foot drove into one man’s chin, the other kicked into the other’s chest.
Both men flew backward at the same time, crashing into the low shrubs, branches and leaves shaking wildly.
Jiang Miao crossed the distance in two strides, grabbed Fu Chengwang’s golden hair, and yanked him up. His eyes tilted up at the corners, his mouth twisted, baring panicked teeth: “F-fighting isn’t allowed in the Academy! L-let go of me right now!”
“Still scheming against Lu Shengzhou?”
Jiang Miao added a bit of force to her grip. The sound of taut scalp was as faint as a plucked string.
“N-no, it was a joke! Just a joke…”
Jiang Miao looked down at him. “Marksmanship. Combat skills. I’m top-tier in all of them. Forget six—if six more showed up, they still might not be enough for me. From now on, take a detour when you see me. Understood?”
Fu Chengwang nodded frantically. His golden hair swayed in her grip like a broom.
Jiang Miao let go and gave him a kick, sending him stumbling back two steps.
Fu Chengwang scrambled up, rubbing his scalp, muttering curses under his breath.
But when the patrolling Academy guards in the distance glanced their way, his face changed. He quickly waved the others up from the ground, and they slunk off, grumbling as they went.
Jiang Miao called loudly after their backs, “What was that you said?”
The six golden heads stiffened. Like horses whipped into a gallop, they broke into a run, turned two corners, and vanished.
Jiang Miao looked down at her own hands.
Red welts from the bag strap marked her knuckles. A surge of heat ran down her spine, like a skeleton long out of joint finally clicking back into place.
Satisfying.
She was a formidable fighter—and so was Nan Xi.
Just then, a pair of slender hands reached over from beside her shoulder.
Fair knuckles, well-defined bones, fingertips still smudged with a trace of dirt.
Those hands hovered gently above her forehead, slowly, carefully wiping the sweat from her temple.
The pads of his fingers glided across her skin, cool, with the faintest tremor.
Jiang Miao looked up.
Lu Shengzhou stood before her. His gaze was quiet, focused.
For a moment, Jiang Miao saw again that favored son of heaven who had once sat at the far end of the long table a year ago.