The carriage bearing the “Prince of Mingxuan’s Estate” placard stopped before the Xiangsi Terrace. The master inside was of the highest nobility, yet he never traveled with the ceremonial entourage befitting a prince. When Shen Quebai stepped out and took a look, he found the carriage to be stark and unadorned, appearing unusually silent amidst the flowing crowds.
He pushed open the carriage door. Zhu Hexing was leaning against a pillow, eyes closed in rest.
On the right side lay a long box wrapped in silk. Shen Quebai took his seat on the left, and Ting Yuan, who had followed, reached out to close the carriage door. The carriage was scented with a cold fragrance, reminiscent of bamboo, wood, and pine waves flowing over a silver spring cool, solemn. Shen Quebai couldn’t help but think of the figure he had seen at Hanqing Temple that day.
Ting Yuan and Yan Chao boarded the carriage from left and right. After a round of finger-guessing to determine who would be the “coachman,” the carriage moved slowly away.
Shen Quebai had memorized the layout of the streets and alleys of Xuandu before the day he returned. He silently calculated the distance. As soon as the carriage left Beian Avenue, he finally lifted his eyelids and cast a secret glance to his left.
Thin, fair eyelids veiled Zhu Hexing’s inscrutable eyes, softening the beauty of his appearance, making him seem less haughty and sharp. Zhu Hexing’s breathing was light and shallow, but Shen Quebai knew he wasn’t asleep, for a faint, narrow, and shallow groove was still etched between his cold, white brows like a sharp vertical wrinkle of snow. It was a flaw that protruded from Zhu Hexing’s shell, even his soul.
It signaled annoyance, melancholy, and perhaps something even harder to describe.
Shen Quebai was, after all, not a god who perceived all the sorrows and joys of the world; he couldn’t name it specifically. But this sensation of something “hanging at the throat but never coming out” sparked his curiosity and a desire to peer further. So, he gazed openly yet subtly at the snowy wrinkle between Zhu Hexing’s brows, as intently as he used to study sword techniques under his master or debate strategies before Uncle Xuan.
“Is it beautiful?” Zhu Hexing opened his eyes at some point and asked coldly.
Shen Quebai, caught off guard, met his gaze, started for a split second, and then, in the blink of an eye, finally grasped that indescribable flavor.
“…It is.” Having honed his skills at Xuan Zhen’s shop, which included flattery and thick-skinned audacity, he felt that saying “beautiful” wasn’t enough, so he added, “Your Highness, you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. To tell you the truth, the first time I saw you, I had a reaction.”
Zhu Hexing maintained his aloof, “innocent flower” posture. “What reaction?”
“Here—” Shen Quebai touched his heart, his expression one of lingering aftertaste, playing the part of a libertine, “It went thump-thump.”
This wasn’t a lie. At the very first glance, Shen Quebai’s heart indeed thumped in the shadows where Zhu Hexing couldn’t see. Of course, three parts of it were caused by Zhu Hexing’s beauty that was only natural but the other seven parts were excitement, as he prepared to do something wicked to the beauty.
“Me too,” Zhu Hexing said, half-truthfully, as if offering a polite reciprocation.
The faint wrinkle between his brows returned to normal, but he seemed unaware that his demeanor was not as airtight as usual, or he wouldn’t have let Shen Quebai discover that flaw. This person was too arrogant, his heart too deep; he thought he had cultivated a state of surface detachment, but after all—he was only human.
Shen Quebai’s gaze shifted slightly, and he clicked his tongue.
The carriage fell silent again.
The noise of the bustling streets surged toward the carriage from all directions, blocked out by the windows, leaving only the dense, wind-like rustling.
After a while, the noise finally faded; they were almost at the estate. The Prince of Mingxuan’s estate was located in Changle Ward; the mansions on this road were all held by the court’s nobility. The main thoroughfare was usually only for the use of a few families and was very quiet.
Shen Quebai stretched his arms and legs in a massive yawn, when suddenly he heard Zhu Hexing say: “If Ting Yuan hadn’t come today, what would you have done?”
Shen Quebai countered: “If Ting Yuan hadn’t come today, what would Yan Chao have done?”
Whoa— The carriage came to a steady stop. The two outside exited, but neither made a sound.
Zhu Hexing raised his hand slightly, his bead bracelet sliding down his hand to dangle at the web between his thumb and index finger. Shen Quebai had been glancing casually at the bracelet, but he noticed a blob of sticky… sugar glaze on the tips of Zhu Hexing’s fingers?
Zhu Hexing was a man who prized cleanliness above all else; how could he tolerate that sticky mess on his fingers for the whole journey?
The clinking of the jade beads interrupted Shen Quebai’s speculation. By now, Zhu Hexing had already pushed open the window and bent to exit the carriage. Shen Quebai noticed his imposing posture—every adjustment of his sleeve and robe was “noble”—and couldn’t help but think back to that one glance he had caught earlier.
The beast trapped in a cage was in those eyes.
The “snow wrinkle” was the breath stolen from his throat after being suppressed for too long.
How could someone who had been deeply cherished by the Son of Heaven since birth have such a look in their eyes?
What exactly happened during that trip to the palace?
Shen Quebai subconsciously stroked the small white jade magpie at his waist, his mind racing like a water sprinkler then suddenly, a horizontal wooden beam appeared out of nowhere, causing his sprinkler to stall, Zhu Hexing, having returned, knocked lightly on the carriage door, looking at him with an unreadable expression.
“…I’m coming!” Shen Quebai bent his waist to exit, but the moment he lifted his hem, he heard a piercing, wind-splitting whistle heading straight for his head!
Who would dare to assassinate the “Princess” inside the Prince of Mingxuan’s estate? Ting Yuan and Yan Chao were both within three meters. Who would choose such an inappropriate time to assassinate—No! This wasn’t an assassination; it was a test.
In the span of a single breath, Shen Quebai forced himself to suppress his body’s reflex to dodge and defend. He gripped his hem and stepped forward regardless, aligning his head perfectly with the arrowhead already half a meter away, while simultaneously twisting his foot to “accidentally” trip.
If that arrow hit, his brain would surely be shattered!
In a flash of lightning, the sound of a soft sword leaving its scabbard clicked simultaneously with Yan Chao’s sharp shout. Shen Quebai felt his waist tighten as a firm, powerful arm pulled him off the carriage. As he swayed, Zhu Hexing scooped him up in his arms.
The soft sword entangled the iron arrow, forcing it to deviate slightly. Yan Chao’s short staff darted out from his sleeve like a dragon, snapping the iron arrow. The tail of the arrow hit the ground immediately, and the arrowhead grazed the tips of Shen Quebai’s hair before burying itself fiercely into the “Prince of Mingxuan’s Estate” plaque!
The plaque shattered with a boom. Half the arrow fell, but at the instant before it touched the ground, it was accurately snatched by a hand appearing out of nowhere. Wen Xie turned and violently hurled the iron arrow back in the direction it came. In the blink of an eye, a white-clad assassin plummeted from the wall at the end of the ward, an arrow-head embedded in his brow.
“Master?” Ting Yuan looked toward Zhu Hexing.
Zhu Hexing glanced at the large tree to the left of the assassin’s ambush spot and said, “Hang the corpse on the Changle Ward gate for three days. Release the news that the Young Master was assassinated.”
“Understood.” Ting Yuan withdrew his soft sword and noticed Shen Quebai clinging to Zhu Hexing’s chest, his handsome face deathly pale, his dangling legs shaking uncontrollably.
What a performance! he sighed inwardly as he walked away.
Yan Chao retracted his short staff and looked toward Wen Xie.
Wen Xie paid his respects to Zhu Hexing, saying, “My Heir Apparent heard that an incident occurred at Xiangsi Terrace and was worried for the Young Master, so he specially sent this subordinate to inquire, for his peace of mind.”
“I, I am fine.” Shen Quebai struggled to free himself from Zhu Hexing’s embrace. As soon as his feet touched the ground, his legs went weak and he collapsed again. Fortunately, the beautiful and kind Prince of Mingxuan reached out to catch the boneless fish.
Shen Quebai cast an embarrassed glance at Zhu Hexing, clinging to this large tree for support, and said tremulously to Wen Xie, “Fortunately, the Prince and everyone else came to save me, otherwise, I… I…” His eyes rolled back, and he actually fainted from the fright.
Both Yan Chao and Wen Xie were stunned by such virtuoso acting; they immediately “worriedly” surrounded him. At that moment, a long, sharp, bellows-like scream came from behind, “Young Master!”
They turned to see Hua Wu stumbling out of the estate, her face as pale as frost on red plums. She even put on a genuine display of stumbling down the steps, falling right at Zhu Hexing’s feet. She grabbed Shen Quebai’s hem, instantly shedding two bean-sized tears, “Young Master! Young Master, what happened to you? Don’t frighten this slave! Doctor! Doctor…”
Yan Chao and Wen Xie were stunned once again.
Zhu Hexing looked at the “heartbroken,” fragile maid Hua Wu, then at the “breathless,” pathetic waste Shen Quebai in his arms, and forced himself to suppress the urge to toss out some reward money, speaking with deep worry, “Quickly, send for a doctor!”