At this moment, the song had so easily stirred memories long buried in his heart.
Xiao Jingyuan stood in the shadows.
Complex emotions flickered in his eyes—nostalgia, bitterness—
And a trace of envy he himself did not recognize.
So this was what it felt like to be treated with such tenderness.
He gazed at the tightly shut door, his dark eyes deep and unreadable, his feet unmoving for a long while.
Inside, Meng Wantang tucked the blanket around the sleeping child, her fingertips brushing across his soft hair.
The gentleness in her eyes instantly settled into cold resolve.
The day of exile was drawing near.
She could no longer remain a soft persimmon for others to squeeze at will. She had to grow stronger—quickly.
To protect herself.
To protect her child.
Moreover, she had long anticipated that the lofty Princess Consort would never tolerate her peaceful existence.
There would surely be movement tonight.
Rising, she walked to the window and looked out at the heavy night.
A calculating smile curved her lips.
She pushed open the window, using the cover of the night wind.
A faint trace of inner force gathered at her fingertips—meager strength she had painstakingly cultivated since transmigrating, relying on the foundation of her modern special-agent training.
Not enough to wound.
But enough to send a message.
She rolled up a note she had long prepared, tied it to a carrier pigeon’s leg, and with a gentle flick of her wrist, sent it into the darkness.
Half an hour later, Xiao Jingyuan stared at the slip of paper in his hand, his expression dark as storm clouds.
Only a few words were written:
“There may be unrest tonight. I beg Your Highness to send skilled guards to protect my child and me.”
His fingers tightened until the knuckles whitened.
Anger and frustration surged within him.
That woman always found a way to make him compromise.
Yet when he thought of the soft little figure in the side courtyard—
When he recalled the occasional fragility in Meng Wantang’s eyes—
He gave a cold snort and ordered into the shadows, “Send ten shadow guards. Seal off the side courtyard. No one is to approach.”
Lengxue accepted the command and withdrew.
Xiao Jingyuan paced restlessly.
He was a prince above all others—since when had he been led by the hand by a woman?
And yet, he could not refuse her.
Meanwhile, in Meng Wanqing’s courtyard, the candles burned brightly.
She sat before her dressing table as a subordinate reported to her.
Her face turned livid.
“What did you say? The prince sent shadow guards to that wretch’s courtyard?”
She slammed her hand against the table, her elaborate coiffure trembling loose.
“She’s nothing but a disgraced sinner—how dare he care for her so!”
The subordinate knelt with head lowered.
Meng Wanqing’s chest rose and fell violently, her eyes full of venom.
“Useless trash! You can’t even handle one woman! What do I keep you for?”
She had intended to send assassins tonight—or stage an accident to make Meng Wantang disappear entirely.
But she had not expected Xiao Jingyuan to intervene.
Those shadow guards were highly skilled. She could not shake them.
Back in the side courtyard, Meng Wantang had just extinguished the lamp.
Footsteps dragged lazily outside the door.
Two maids, Xinghua and Hehua, pushed the door open.
By moonlight, they saw the child on the bed and immediately showed contempt.
“Hmph, really thinks she’s a master now, having the prince send guards to protect her.”
Hehua curled her lip, her voice deliberately loud enough for the child to hear.
Xinghua sneered, “Just a fatherless bastard. Following a criminal woman and daring to eat the Prince Manor’s rice? I’d say he’ll starve sooner or later.”
The child had not been sleeping deeply.
Hearing this, he opened his eyes at once.
His small body trembled with anger. Clenching his fists, he sat up and glared at them, his childish voice stubborn and fierce.
“You’re not allowed to scold my mother! My mother isn’t a criminal!”
Xinghua laughed as if hearing a joke.
She stepped forward, looking down at him.
“Oh? The little bastard dares talk back? Listen well—only the Princess Consort is mistress of this manor. Your mother is just a lowly servant. And you? You’re a nameless little bastard no one acknowledges.”
“Don’t scold my mother! Don’t scold me!” The child’s eyes reddened as he moved to get out of bed.
But Meng Wantang pulled him back.
She slowly sat up.
Moonlight fell across her face, obscuring her expression. Only her voice was heard—gentle beyond reason.
“Child, be good. Lie down and sleep. Mother will speak to them.”
She patted his back softly, soothing his trembling body.
Yet in her eyes flickered a chilling killing intent.
Xinghua and Hehua exchanged a glance, both smirking.
In the past, Meng Wantang had humbled herself to curry favor with them.
She had even secretly slipped them silver.
Seeing her calm now, they assumed she meant to bribe them again.
“Hmph. At least you know your place,” Hehua said, crossing her arms. “Say what you need to say. Don’t delay our rest.”
Meng Wantang rose and walked toward them.
A smile curved her lips—but her eyes held no warmth.
“There are indeed things to say. The wind outside is strong. Let’s step out so we don’t disturb the child.”
Thinking she would offer benefits, they eagerly followed her out.
Once in the courtyard, Meng Wantang stopped and turned.
The night was thick. Her figure seemed blurred in the moonlight.
Xinghua was about to urge her to hurry when Meng Wantang’s gaze turned razor-sharp.
“You’ve followed Meng Wanqing and committed many vile deeds against me. You know it yourselves.”
Her voice was cold as ice.
“You made me eat spoiled food. Withheld my clothing. And now you dare insult my child.”
“You deserve to die.”
The maids’ faces changed.
Before they could shout, Meng Wantang’s figure suddenly turned transparent—
And vanished completely.
The next second, she was gone.
Their pupils shrank in terror.
“You—are you human or ghost?!”
Before the words finished, searing pain struck their necks.
They did not even have time to scream.
Their bodies collapsed limply to the ground.
Meng Wantang’s figure slowly reappeared.
She withdrew her hand, a trace of blood staining her fingertips.
Her eyes were utterly indifferent.
She had used the space’s invisibility ability—lasting only a quarter hour, but enough to deal with these two obstacles.
Without hesitation, she activated the space’s power again, enveloping the bodies of Xinghua and Hehua.
In the next instant, her figure vanished once more.
With the space’s teleportation ability, she appeared outside Meng Wanqing’s courtyard.
Under the cover of night, she flung the two corpses directly into Meng Wanqing’s room.
With a dull thud, Meng Wanqing—who had been pacing irritably—jerked around.
And saw two blood-soaked corpses lying on the floor.
They were Xinghua and Hehua—the very maids she had sent to monitor Meng Wantang.
She screamed in horror.
“Ah! The dead! There are dead bodies!”