The attendant hurried to comply and turned to make arrangements.
Soon, an endless stream of rewards was delivered into the small courtyard—exquisite clothing, precious tonics, novel toys—piling up to fill half the room.
Shortly after, dishes carefully prepared by the imperial kitchen were set upon the table one by one.
Xiao Jingyuan sat at the table, watching as Meng Wantang patiently fed Xiao Muyan.
As the child took small bites, color gradually returned to his face, and the hardness in Xiao Jingyuan’s eyes slowly softened.
Meanwhile—
In Meng Wanqing’s courtyard, chaos reigned.
A maid tremblingly reported that Xiao Jingyuan was dining in Meng Wantang’s courtyard.
Before she could finish speaking, Meng Wanqing violently swept a teacup to the floor.
“Bitch! All of you are bitches!” she screamed hysterically, her eyes blazing with madness and hatred.
Her gaze fell upon a small silver paper knife on the desk. She seized it, her expression venomous as a poisoned serpent.
“Your Highness, spare me!” the maid cried, kowtowing frantically, her face deathly pale.
But Meng Wanqing had completely lost her sanity. She lunged forward, grabbing the maid by the hair—
And drove the silver knife down.
Again and again.
Blood splattered across her skirt and cheeks, yet she seemed oblivious, shrieking hoarsely, “Meng Wantang! You wretch! You deserve to die! I will kill you! I swear I will kill you!”
The knife clattered to the floor. The maid was long dead, yet Meng Wanqing remained frozen in her feral posture.
The evil and madness in her eyes were like a demon from hell—terrifying beyond measure.
Back in the side courtyard, candlelight flickered, casting a warm glow over the modest dishes on the table.
The little one held a celadon bowl in his hands, clumsily scooping porridge with a silver spoon, occasionally dotting his lips with grains of rice.
Each time, Meng Wantang would set down her chopsticks and gently wipe his mouth with a silk handkerchief.
Her movements were as tender as if she were handling a fragile treasure.
Seated across from them, Xiao Jingyuan unconsciously rubbed his jade chopsticks between his fingers.
His gaze rested on her lowered lashes.
They were long, casting faint shadows beneath her eyes, and for no reason at all, his heart softened.
Even his usually stern features eased slightly.
Under the corridor, Lengxue stood with lowered head, his fingers nearly digging into his palm.
He had followed Xiao Jingyuan for years.
He had seen the prince’s thunderous authority in court.
He had witnessed his decisive slaughter on the battlefield.
But never had he seen him like this—without killing intent, without cold detachment—simply sitting quietly, watching the woman and child across from him.
There was even an indulgence in his eyes he himself did not realize.
The scene was discordant, yet strangely harmonious.
And in that instant, Lengxue understood something.
The weight this concubine held in the prince’s heart had likely long surpassed that of the “wife in name.”
The meal was quiet.
Yet filled with rare warmth.
When the little one set down his bowl and let out a small yawn, Meng Wantang rose to tidy up.
Turning to Xiao Jingyuan, the gentleness on her face faded slightly, replaced with firm decisiveness.
“It’s late. Your Highness should return to your chambers to rest.”
The hand that had just lifted a teacup paused midair. His eyes darkened abruptly.
He looked at her, brows knitting slightly, his tone edged with disbelief and chill. “You are dismissing me?”
Meng Wantang lowered her gaze as she arranged the table, speaking as calmly as if stating something utterly ordinary.
“Your Highness has already made an exception by dining with us today. The meal is finished, the child is tired. If you remain, you may disturb our quiet. Besides, the night air is heavy with dew. Your Highness is of noble health; you should not linger in the side courtyard wind.”
“Disturb your quiet?”
Xiao Jingyuan set the teacup down sharply. Celadon struck wood with a crisp sound.
The child startled, shrinking his neck.
Rising to his full height, Xiao Jingyuan stepped toward her, his imposing presence pressing close, anger swirling in his eyes.
“Meng Wantang, you were so obedient during dinner. Now that it’s over, you turn your face and drive me away? What do you take me for? Something to summon and dismiss at will?”
His voice carried restrained fury.
Yet Meng Wantang showed not the slightest fear.
Instead, she lifted her eyes to meet his.
There was a playful softness within them as her voice gentled.
“Your Highness misunderstands.”
She leaned slightly closer, her breath brushing faintly against his wrist.
“I only thought you have been working tirelessly and should rest properly. Besides…” Her tone shifted, urgency flashing briefly in her eyes, “I still need to sort the child’s things and mend a few clothes. With Your Highness here, I cannot move freely. Please be considerate of me, hm?”
Her voice was soft and faintly coquettish, her bright gaze hooking into his like a lure.
It effortlessly stirred the embers of his temper.
Xiao Jingyuan looked into her gentle eyes.
Strangely, much of his anger dissipated.
Yet upon reflection, unwillingness crept in.
He had allowed her to toy with his emotions so easily.
He gave a cold snort. His tone remained stern, though the earlier fury had faded.
“Smooth-tongued.”
Meng Wantang immediately smiled, her eyes curving like a child rewarded with candy. “Thank you for your understanding, Your Highness.”
As she spoke, she nudged him toward the door.
“Take care. I won’t see you out.”
Pushed to the doorway, Xiao Jingyuan paused and turned back to look at her.
The candlelight flickered across her face, bright and dim in turns, and for a moment he found it difficult to look away.
He seemed about to speak, but in the end merely pressed his lips together, flicked his sleeve, and strode off with lingering frustration.
Once outside, the evening wind struck him.
Only then did he belatedly realize—
He had truly been coaxed away by her.
He stopped abruptly, anger and vexation surging in his eyes.
His fists clenched with an audible crack.
Seeing this, Lengxue hurried forward. “Your Highness, you—”
“Get lost!”
Xiao Jingyuan barked sharply, fury nearly spilling over.
In over twenty years of life, no one had ever dared treat him this way.
And never had anyone so easily stirred his heart—
Only to cast him aside without care.
That woman was nothing short of a seductress.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the agitation in his chest.
Yet he could not help glancing back toward the side courtyard.
The candlelight there still burned.
Faintly, a woman’s gentle voice drifted through the night, indistinct in words.
Inside the courtyard, Meng Wantang shut the door, the smile vanishing instantly from her face.
In its place was solemn gravity.
She hurried into the inner room and looked at the child, already too drowsy to keep his eyes open. Gently, she carried him to the bed.
“Mother…” he murmured, clutching her sleeve.
“Good boy. Mother will tell you a story. When it’s finished, we’ll sleep,” she said softly, patting his back with a voice as tender as water.
She told him fairy tales she had once heard in her modern life—from The Three Little Pigs to Little Red Riding Hood.
The child listened, entranced. His eyes slowly closed, his breathing evening out.
When he was fast asleep, Meng Wantang bent and pressed a light kiss to his forehead.
Then, softly, she began to sing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
The gentle melody flowed through the quiet room, soothing and warm.
Outside, at the corner of the courtyard wall, Xiao Jingyuan stood silently, listening to that familiar yet unfamiliar tune.
His heart trembled.
The song was soft and warm—so much like the melody his mother once sang at his bedside when he was a child.
Memories surged without warning—
His mother’s gentle smile, her soft humming, the warmth of her hands.
All the past he had long buried deep within his heart.