The kiss finally came to an end. Nanzhi slumped limply against his chest, her soft body trembling as she caught her breath in shallow, delicate gasps. The sight only served to deepen the amusement dancing in Shen Huaixu’s eyes; he thoroughly enjoyed watching her melt into such a dazed, bewitched state beneath his lips.
Seeing her flushed face, he decided against pushing her any further, choosing not to press her about what she had been looking at moments before. As if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired, he picked up the small teacup from the low table and took a sip with effortless elegance.
With his peerless, aristocratic bearing, absolutely no one could ever connect this refined, composed man to the person who had just been locked in such a fierce, consuming kiss with Nanzhi.
Regaining her wits, Nanzhi felt a profound aversion to even looking at him. Without drawing his notice, she inched her way slightly to the side, trying to put as much distance between them as she possibly could.
The blush still burned across her cheeks, and her throat felt bone-dry. Watching the Crown Prince casually sip his tea, she swallowed hard against her thirst, but choosing discretion over defiance, she bit her tongue and turned her face away.
The road ahead was far from smooth, and the violent jolting of the carriage left her aching all over. Seeking relief from the mounting discomfort, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the cushioned wall of the carriage.
As the moments ticked by, sheer exhaustion dragged her down into a deep slumber.
She had barely slept at all the night before, and to make matters worse, she had been woken up at the crack of dawn and put through the wringer by the Crown Prince. Burdened by a heavy, aching heart, she had been running on fumes all morning, forcing herself to endure through pure willpower.
Even with the Crown Prince sitting right beside her, she was simply too bone-tired to care anymore. Leaning back against the carriage interior, she drifted off to sleep.
Right before slipping into unconsciousness, her mind was still plagued by anxious thoughts: I wonder how Mother is holding up? And what about him? Is he completely broken-hearted right now?
In that hazy borderland between sleeping and waking, Nanzhi thought she caught the distant sound of Wen Tingyue’s voice.
“Zhi’er! Zhi’er! Zhi’er!”
The thunder of galloping hooves grew closer and louder by the second. Wen Tingyue had been soaring with elation at finally catching up to Nanzhi’s carriage, but before the burst of joy could fully settle in his eyes, his path was abruptly cut off and surrounded by a tight ring of the Crown Prince’s guards.
A gleaming, razor-sharp saber was suddenly pressed flat against his throat, its cold, reflective edge stopping him dead in his tracks and robbing him of any room to move.
Shen Huaixu’s carriage ground to a halt in response. A split second later, Wei Feng’s cold, impeccably respectful voice echoed from outside: “Your Highness, a suspicious individual suddenly attempted to approach your carriage. This subordinate has already subdued him. Awaiting Your Highness’s orders on how to deal with him.”
Inside, Nanzhi’s delicate, willow-leaf brows knit together in a tight frown. Startled out of her exhausted sleep, she snapped her eyes wide open, the lingering fog of slumber clearing away in an instant.
No sooner had she regained consciousness than the Crown Prince’s chilling, merciless verdict rang out in her ear: “Investigate him. If he’s an assassin, execute him.”
His tone was detached, colder than the perpetual snows capping the highest peaks. His handsome, noble face remained a mask of absolute indifference, treating human life as if it were nothing more than an ant beneath his boot.
Without a second thought, Nanzhi cried out in panic: “Your Highness, no!”
Driven by sheer desperation, she lunged forward, grabbing hold of Shen Huaixu’s sleeve as she shook her head repeatedly. Her eyes brimming with frantic entreaty and desperate plea, she tugged at his fabric and begged: “Your Highness, he is not a bad person! Please, I beg you, spare his life.”
She had recognized the voice the moment it called out, though she couldn’t fathom how he had managed to track her all the way here. Hearing the Crown Prince casually order his execution terrified her so completely that all the color drained from her face, leaving her heart hammering violently against her ribs.
Outside the carriage, Wen Tingyue’s frantic shouts pierced the air once more: “Zhi’er! Are you in there?”
“Your Highness the Crown Prince, I am no assassin! I beg of you, show mercy and grant me just one more chance to speak with Miss Nan!”
At his continued outcry, the blade resting against his neck pressed a fraction closer, almost breaking the delicate skin of his pale throat and threatening to draw blood. A mere hair’s breadth of forward pressure would have been enough to effortlessly slice open his windpipe.
Though a shiver of natural terror ran through him, Wen Tingyue’s mind was anchored by a single, immovable obsession: he had to see Nanzhi. Refusing to yield an inch, he stood his ground, though his refined, scholarly face had turned a frightening, deathly pale.
“State your identity,” a nearby guard demanded coldly.
Standing unflinching before the drawn weapons, he answered firmly: “I am Wen Tingyue, Young Master of the Wen residence.”
Hearing those words, a flash of razor-sharp frost cut through Shen Huaixu’s eyes, and his expression hardened into a mask of grim severity. Glancing down at the beauty beside him, who was currently weeping and begging him with every ounce of her soul, a sudden, dark wave of displeasure coiled deep within his chest.
He remained silent for a long moment, the surrounding air freezing over until the oppressive quiet became terrifying.
“Is he that fiancé of yours?”
Shen Huaixu’s sudden question shattered the stillness inside the carriage. Though phrased as an inquiry, his gaze held absolute certainty.
Nanzhi felt a creeping dread toward Shen Huaixu in this state, sensing that beneath his deadpan composure lay a volatile storm ready to break at any second.
First nodding, her eyes flickered before she shook her head instead: “Your Highness, this subject belongs to you now. What fiancé could I possibly have?”
“He used to be, but he isn’t anymore.”
Her only prayer was that the Crown Prince wasn’t a cold-blooded slaughterer of the innocent, and that he would spare Wen Tingyue and let him return home.
Appears to have been genuinely tickled by her words, the solemnity melting off Shen Huaixu’s face as his expression softened considerably. Reaching out with a long, elegant hand, he pinched Nanzhi’s chin and chuckled softly: “Remember this well, Zhizhi—you belong to Gu.”
“You are Gu’s in life, and you will remain Gu’s in death.”
The veins on the back of his hand stood out sharply, turning more prominent as he applied a steady, unyielding pressure.
The tight grip on her chin began to ache, yet Nanzhi didn’t let out a single whimper. Instead, meeting the profound, chilling abyss of Shen Huaixu’s gaze, she gave a slight nod: “This subject understands.”
“Since you belong to Gu, you should naturally address yourself as your concubine. Why are you still calling yourself ‘this subject’?”
Suppressing the tumultuous waves churning in her heart, Nanzhi forced a calm facade and offered a radiant, obliging smile: “It was this concubine’s lapse in memory. I pray Your Highness will not fault me.”
Her tone even managed to carry a fleeting trace of bashfulness.
Naturally, it was all an act.
Uttering that title—your concubine—filled her with a bitter, self-mocking irony, but under the crushing weight of the Crown Prince’s coercion, she had no other choice.
Shen Huaixu knew full well that she was putting on a show, and that every fiber of her being resisted the reality. Releasing his hold on her chin, he slid his hand down to wrap around hers instead.
His expression turning gentle, he gazed down at Nanzhi with feigned tenderness: “Since he is an acquaintance of yours, Gu will let slide his reckless intrusion into our procession. Speak with him clearly, and Gu will let him return. But as for what should be said and what shouldn’t, Zhizhi ought to know better than anyone.”
“Open the carriage door.”
Though wrapped in gentle phrasing, Nanzhi caught the razor-sharp threat lurking beneath his words. Should she slip up and utter even a single wrong syllable, the Crown Prince might change his mind on a dime.
Daren’t lower her guard for a fraction of a second, her heart wound as tight as a bowstring, Nanzhi angled her body toward the carriage exit. Through the parting gap, she caught sight of the heavy sabers still clamped against Wen Tingyue’s throat, and a cold sweat broke out over her skin.
This was the Crown Prince’s personal vanguard! For her sake, Wen Tingyue had thrown caution to the wind and charged headlong into the lion’s den—was such madness truly worth it?
The moment the carriage door swung open, Wen Tingyue’s eyes locked instantly onto Nanzhi sitting within. Catching her nestled in the Crown Prince’s embrace, the sight pierced straight through his eyes like jagged glass, breaking his heart into agonizing pieces and choking off his breath entirely.
Nanzhi’s heart twitched in a matching agony, feeling as though a sharp blade were slowly carving micro-incisions across her chest. Yet, with the Crown Prince sitting right beside her, she dared not reveal a single flicker of sorrow.
Even though their time together had been brief, she knew this much: the moment she showed the slightest trace of lingering affection for the young man outside, the Crown Prince would instantly revoke his clemency and show him no mercy.
Ironing her features into an absolute mask of frost, Nanzhi snapped at him: “Young Master Wen, what on earth are you doing here?”
The gentle, melodious cadence of her voice had hardened into razor-sharp ice.
Wen Tingyue had never in his life witnessed such an unapproachable, frigid side to her. In the past, Zhi’er had always greeted him with affectionate familiarity; today, she felt as distant and chilling as a stranger, freezing him dead in his tracks.
The Nanzhi locked in his memories was always wreathed in soft, spring-like smiles. This icy apparition standing before him felt entirely alien.
Regaining his wits a moment later, a look of harrowing pain washed over his face, still utterly incapable of reconciling reality with what his eyes were witnessing. His voice cracked, rough and ragged: “Zhi’er… have you really chosen to go with the Crown Prince?”