Half an hour later, deafening drumbeats pierced through the entire mountain forest, accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of hooves as a group prepared to embark on a hunting expedition in the mountains!
Nangong Yi had prepared a reddish-brown steed for Song Yao—a horse that was exceptionally gentle and amiable.
While Song Yao was stroking the horse’s head to build rapport, a sharp, sarcastic voice sounded from behind her.
“Since you’re a pampered young lady born into privilege, why bother joining the hunt? Not only will you cause trouble for others, but you’ll also waste a perfectly good horse.”
The speaker was none other than Jiya.
In Mobei, martial prowess was highly valued; both men and women learned to ride horses and shoot arrows as soon as they could run. Coupled with their fierce and straightforward customs, they held the utmost disdain for those who were weak and incapable.
Someone like Song Yao, who projected the image of a delicate, fragile beauty, was naturally looked down upon by Jiya.
Unfazed, Song Yao merely sighed softly and met the other’s gaze, her tone gentle yet firm:
“I had heard that most people from Mobei were uncivilized and lacked manners, but I didn’t believe it. Now, after two encounters, I’m forced to reconsider.”
The people of Mobei despised nothing more than Central Plains natives arrogantly labeling them as “uncivilized,” and Jiya was no exception: “You…!”
But Song Yao didn’t give Jiya a chance to speak, cutting her off: “Isn’t that so? First, you, Princess, are fully aware that His Highness and I have just married, yet you insist on proposing a political marriage with him.”
“Second, we’ve only met a few times, and I’ve never offended you, yet you openly mock me.”
“So, if this isn’t rudeness, what is?”
In contrast to Jiya’s flustered anger, every word Song Yao spoke calmly and rationally carried more weight and conviction.
Given that Mobei had come this time to foster friendly relations and considering their unique statuses, Song Yao refrained from pushing too far and stopped at the right point:
“There’s no need for you to be overly upset by my words, Princess. In the Central Plains, we have a saying: ‘Courtesy demands reciprocity.’ If you treat me with courtesy today, I will surely reciprocate.”
With a polite smile, she watched as Jiya departed.
Once Jiya was out of sight, Ru Shuang approached: “Master, last night, Prince Bateer of Mobei met privately with the Seventh Prince at Xiangman Tower. Should we find a way to inform the Crown Prince about this?”
Song Yao glanced at the tall, handsome man striding toward her in the distance and curved her lips into a smile: “Do you think he’s unaware of the movements of the Mobei delegation?”
If even their martial sect could uncover such information, how could the Crown Prince not know? If it were some remote, distant place, it might be possible, but this was Wangdu City, the Royal Capital.
She never doubted Nangong Yi’s capabilities. Perhaps half the reason he held the position of Crown Prince stemmed from the Emperor and Empress’s favor toward their eldest son.
Yet, amid the fierce, covert struggles among the princes for the throne, maintaining the Crown Prince’s position steadfastly for ten years was no ordinary feat.
Moreover, the Seventh Prince, Nangong Yi, and the Ninth Princess were all born of the Empress. The bond among the three siblings was exceptionally strong. For the Mobei delegation to attempt underhanded tactics to sow discord was nothing short of a pipe dream.
While the master and servant exchanged words, Nangong Yi arrived before Song Yao. His tall frame blocked the scorching sunlight, casting a large shadow that enveloped the woman.
“Did she bully you?”
“She” referred to Jiya. Earlier, Nangong Yi had been speaking with the Emperor and several princes, but his peripheral attention had remained on Song Yao. The moment the conversation ended, he came straight over.
Song Yao blinked, taking a moment to process his question, then laughed softly, answering evasively: “Your Highness, this humble servant finds herself growing fonder of you by the day.”
She had always admired Nangong Yi—whether it was his strategic acumen in court or his iron-blooded decisiveness on the battlefield. Moreover, she was quite taken with the man’s striking appearance.
Thus, when the imperial edict of marriage was announced, she accepted it gladly and expressed her gratitude. Now, it seemed that developing genuine feelings for him might not be such a bad idea.
Whether it was due to the sweltering mountain breeze that had just swept by or Song Yao’s words, Nangong Yi’s previously stern and rigid facial contours softened slightly.
He took Song Yao’s hand, gently rubbing and enveloping her delicate fingers in his palm, and instructed, “Stay close to me once we enter the mountains. Don’t wander off.”
Song Yao replied, “Mm-hmm.”
But that wasn’t necessarily true. If an opportunity arose to kill Ruoxue, she would definitely wander off. If no good chance presented itself, then she would behave.
As the drumbeats ceased, the hunt began.
Amid the lush trees and blooming flowers of the mountain forest, it was noticeably cooler than outside. However, the chirping of cicadas grew clearer and more piercing, their incessant noise grating on the ears.
Song Yao had come partly to join in the excitement and partly to find an opportunity to kill someone. She had no intention of hunting and leisurely rode her horse behind Nangong Yi, adhering to a principle of neither helping nor causing trouble.
Nangong Yi, on the other hand, had a fruitful hunt. Not long after entering the mountains, he shot a solitary antelope. As time passed, he successively hunted roe deer, quails, wild rabbits, and wild boars…
During the hunts, Song Yao would retreat to the side to watch. For her safety, Nangong Yi even assigned two guards to accompany her.
Ru Shuang had not come along. Song Yao had instructed her to stay at the Imperial Villa to prepare contingency plans.
“Rustle, rustle.”
A faint sound caught Song Yao’s sharp ears. Following the noise, she glimpsed a snake coiled around a branch, hidden among the dense foliage.
She estimated the distance—not too far, not too close. A successful shot wouldn’t raise suspicion, so she nocked an arrow and let it fly.
“Whoosh.”
The arrow was fast, but something was even faster: a gyrfalcon that had silently been circling high in the sky.
It swooped down, snatched the snake before her arrow could reach it, and flew off. The arrow missed its mark, embedding itself deeply into the tree branch. The already slender branch couldn’t bear the weight and snapped, falling onto the weed-covered ground with a crack.
Song Yao: “…”
The two guards: “…” “…”
The two guards looked up at the sky, but the gyrfalcon was long gone. They thought to themselves, “The Crown Princess finally nocked an arrow to hunt, and then this… this… Ah! Ah!!!”
Just then, Nangong Yi and his party returned from a successful hunt. Sensing the subtle atmosphere, he asked with concern, “What happened?””
The two guards simultaneously looked at Song Yao, neither daring to speak out of turn.
Song Yao thought, “Tsk, they’re surprisingly mindful of my dignity as the Crown Princess.”
“Nothing, let’s go,” she said, feeling somewhat embarrassed. It was better not to mention it.
The group continued onward. Whether it was because too many animals had been hunted and the rest had fled, or for some other reason, the surroundings grew increasingly quiet.
“Your Highness, Crown Princess, there may be an ambush ahead,” the guard captain warned. Immediately, all the guards went on high alert.
Nangong Yi called, “Yao Yao.”
He reached out his hand to Song Yao. She placed her hand in his, and in the next moment, she was seated on his horse, enveloped in his broad embrace.
The quieter it was, the easier it was to detect the slightest movement. Song Yao’s ears twitched, and she tugged at the man’s sleeve to alert him.
“Your Highness, do you see that cave entrance over there? This humble servant just noticed something alive inside.”
It was a cave entrance densely concealed by crisscrossing thickets and thorny bushes. Through the gaps, faint glimmers of darkness revealed a bottomless depth, appearing terrifyingly deep and silent at first glance—as if some colossal creature from the heart of the ancient mountains might burst forth at any moment.
Yet upon closer inspection, the deception seemed crude. Several of the plants and thorns blocking the entrance were species that would never naturally grow together, defying their inherent habits. The yellowish soil, severely eroded by recent rainfall, appeared even more unnatural.
Both Nangong Yi and Song Yao noticed these details.
Neither was a fool. Having weathered numerous assassinations—both overt and covert—over the years, they recognized the setup instantly.
Nangong Yi ordered his men to scatter and retreat. As expected, a massive black shadow lunged violently from the cave in the next moment.
“ROAR——!——!——!”
An ear-splitting bear roar echoed through the mountain forest. It was a Black Bear—and something seemed wrong with it, like a deranged beast gone mad.