Song Yao was perplexed and politely inquired, “Why does the Seventh Highness say so?”
Nangong Jin replied, “Royal Sister-in-law, you may not know this, but my elder brother took action against the Sixth Brother for your sake.”
Nangong Jin briefly explained the reasons, summarizing the entire situation in a few words while placing all the blame on Song Yao.
“If Royal Sister-in-law had stayed at the Imperial Villa with Her Majesty and the others that day, the subsequent events would not have occurred. The Crown Prince would not have developed a rift with His Majesty over the Sixth Brother’s death, nor would he have been suspended from court.”
Song Yao took a sip of tea to moisten her throat, then set down the teacup. She looked at Nangong Jin, still smiling, though the smile did not reach her eyes.
“First, it was His Highness who invited me to join the hunt. The bear charged at His Highness, and I was merely an innocent bystander caught up in the situation. How can it be said that I caused His Highness any trouble?”
“Second, the decision to act against the Sixth Highness beforehand was His Highness’s own, not because I, as a seductive beauty, whispered in his ear and incited him.”
“Moreover, although the Seventh Highness has yet to marry, I hope you understand this principle: ensuring one’s wife’s safety is the husband’s responsibility, as is standing up for her.”
Perhaps Nangong Jin had never expected the timid and fearful Royal Sister-in-law he knew to refute him so logically and even sharply. His youthful face showed undisguised astonishment.
He wanted to argue but found himself at a loss for words.
Over the years, although Song Yao had maintained a delicate and vulnerable facade, she was not one to be easily bullied. When she could afford to confront someone openly, she would not hold back; when she couldn’t, she would retaliate in secret.
As for this one—a prince—she couldn’t afford to provoke him openly, nor could she easily retaliate in secret.
But she could still vent her frustration with words to make herself feel better, so she continued:
“Lastly, the Seventh Highness repeatedly claims to have no intention of interfering in your elder brother and sister-in-law’s relationship, yet you privately say these things to me with such rudeness and aggression. Isn’t this somewhat contradictory?”
She refrained from mentioning the hierarchy of age, as there was also the distinction of status. After all, he was a prince, while she was merely the daughter of a minister.
By the time Nangong Yi returned, the two of them acted as if nothing had happened, peacefully drinking their tea.
At noon, the sun blazed fiercely.
Ever since Song Yao had complained about the cicadas’ noisy chirping, the maids in pink had cleared the cicadas from every corner of the rear courtyard. Now, the rear courtyard was exceptionally quiet, perfect for a good nap.
Song Yao wasn’t sleeping—she was pretending to sleep.
With her back turned to the man behind her, she had been subtly rejecting his advances for hours. Though her words were proper, they were perfunctory and cold.
Throwing a tantrum?
Yes, and she intended to complain later.
Not that she was genuinely throwing a tantrum or truly wanted to complain—after all, she had already vented her frustration. Her real intention was to test the waters.
Although she knew the Crown Prince liked her, she was unsure to what extent. Was his affection deep enough to tolerate her future recklessness?
“Ah—”
Her waist tightened as she was spun around. Letting out an exaggerated, affected gasp, she landed securely in a familiar embrace.
Song Yao was now lying on top of Nangong Yi, their eyes meeting in a face-to-face position. The Crown Princess, fully immersed in her act, averted her beautiful eyes, deliberately avoiding the Crown Prince’s gaze.
Nangong Yi asked, “What’s wrong?”
Though he knew his wife was pretending, he still cared deeply. He understood she wouldn’t throw a tantrum without reason—there had to be a cause.
Seeing Song Yao still unwilling to look at him, he sighed softly, his long-fingered hands cupping her face, forehead pressed against forehead.
“My dear Yao Yao, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
Song Yao still avoided Nangong Yi’s gaze, but her expression shifted, revealing genuine emotions beneath the surface—transforming from indifferent detachment to puffed-up anger, though she stubbornly refused to open up completely.
“This humble servant is fine. This humble servant hasn’t been wronged!”
Nangong Yi: Not wronged? That means she has been wronged.
The Crown Prince was very patient, continuing to gently coax her. “Who dared to wrong my Yao Yao? How audacious.”
Narrowing his eyes, he guessed: “Was it me, or A Jin?”
Song Yao remained silent, finally looking at Nangong Yi, only for her eyes to redden the next second. A single tear she’d been holding back for so long fell with a soft plop.
Warm, yet it seared Nangong Yi’s skin like fire. His brows furrowed deeply as he gently wiped her reddened eyes with his thumb.
“Don’t cry.”
Song Yao couldn’t let her hard-earned tear go to waste, but she couldn’t squeeze out another one. So she buried her makeup-free face into Nangong Yi’s chest muscles, pretending to cry.
Wrapping her arms around the Crown Prince’s neck, her slender shoulders trembling pitifully, she didn’t directly complain after her fake crying. Instead, with a hoarse yet seductive voice, she asked in a heartbroken tone between sobs:
“Husband, am I a burden to you? The seventh prince said…”
Song Yao went on and on tattling, finally lifting her face reluctantly from his chest muscles to look up.
The beauty’s tearful eyes were utterly pitiable. Clearly wronged, she seemed to swallow her grievances, showing consideration and reasonableness for her husband everywhere.
“This humble servant doesn’t wish to cause Your Highness trouble, nor become your burden. So please don’t do such things for me anymore. It’s not worth ruining Your Highness’s greater plans for this humble servant alone.”
Nangong Yi had been silently comforting her by stroking her back. Now his large hand caressed the silky black hair of the woman in his arms.
“Yao Yao, do you know why I waited until this year to seek your hand in marriage?”
Song Yao looked confused: “Waited?” What did he mean?
Nangong Yi didn’t answer that question, instead kissing Song Yao’s lips with gentle tenderness. After comforting her in his own way, he explained with serious expression:
“Now I have sufficient ability to ensure my Furen’s happiness and safety in all matters. So there’s no such thing as trouble, burden, or hindrance. On the contrary, Furen is my support. Wherever Furen is, that’s where I find peace.”
Such sentimental words, yet Nangong Yi spoke them with complete sincerity.
Song Yao could tell they were genuine, so her lips parted slightly, momentarily at loss for how to respond. Ultimately, she said nothing.
Withdrawing all her acting, she felt threads of guilt for her insincerity from start to finish, burying herself again in Nangong Yi’s embrace.
Her tone, previously falsely soft, now carried genuine emotion: “Husband, don’t say such things. This humble servant might take them seriously.”
Her head moved restlessly. After a moment, a faint bite mark appeared on the Crown Prince’s chest. Such words and similar scenes felt all too familiar.
Nangong Yi patted Song Yao’s head, speaking skillfully: “If Yao Yao can take them seriously, it would be my honor.”
Song Yao: … Enough, really. She could even clearly hear her own heartbeat now, completely thrown off balance.
Her delicate hands also grew restless, fingertips tracing the well-defined eight-pack abs. Her heart moved, and her body followed, extending a passionate invitation:
“Husband, shall we?”
Nangong Yi had a rare moment of leisure during the day, and with the atmosphere just right—perfect timing, favorable conditions, and harmonious feelings—Song Yao felt it would be a waste not to act.
Nangong Yi’s gaze deepened.
An hour later.
The ice blocks placed in the four corners of the bedchamber had melted more than halfway. Amid the opulent bed curtains, Nangong Yi pressed a kiss to the forehead of the person in his arms and made a promise.
“Regarding today’s matter, I will have A Jin come and apologize to you.”
Song Yao was genuinely weary by now and declined, “There’s no need. This humble servant has already caused the Seventh Highness enough embarrassment.”
So there was no need for an apology scene—it would only make her uncomfortable, especially since this time she had genuinely whispered in his ear.