Just as the man’s hand was about to tighten, Qin Fei felt a terrifying wave of suffocation crash over her. His eyes, however, remained utterly calm—cold, detached—as though in his gaze she was nothing more than a tiny ant, her life or death at his whim.
“Ugh…” Her breath was nearly cut off, her eyes reddening, when suddenly the pressure eased.
Cen Hejue withdrew his hand with careless indifference, the corner of his lips lifting. “Your Highness is frightened?”
Qin Fei stepped back two paces, watching him warily.
Looking at the little girl staring at him like that, Cen Hejue suddenly recalled the faces of those who had died by his hand—the same terror etched across their features. An inexplicable irritation stirred in his chest.
“…”
Qin Fei clutched her throat, only to see Cen Hejue’s lips curve again. “Just now, I was only teasing Your Highness.”
She wanted to retort, *Do you even believe that yourself?* But in the end, she held her tongue.
“Perceptor Cen, your joke… felt a little too real.” Qin Fei forced a few breaths, barely suppressing the lingering suffocation in her body.
Before Cen Hejue could reply, a commotion erupted outside the door.
“Someone’s dead!”
“Our pavilion master is dead!”
“Report to the authorities! Hurry!”
Hearing the cries, Qin Fei instinctively lowered her head, avoiding Cen Hejue’s gaze. *Report to the authorities?* she thought. *What need is there? It was the officials who killed him.*
“Does Your Highness wish to accuse me?” Cen Hejue’s lids lifted lazily, as if even if she did, it would mean nothing to him.
Qin Fei shook her head like a rattle drum. “No, of course not.”
“Why not?” Cen Hejue pressed, suddenly intrigued.
Qin Fei answered, “Because I am soon to marry you. Whatever you do, I believe you must have your reasons. A wife follows her husband—whether chicken or dog. Even if you killed someone today… even if you killed me…”
Cen Hejue’s eyes flickered upward. Qin Fei quickly shifted her words: “…Even if you killed my father, I would still believe you had your reasons.”
At that, the man laughed, his eyes gleaming with mockery, as though watching a clown perform.
“Eighth Princess, since Cen Hejue didn’t harm you, then just now—” Qi Siluo interjected.
Qin Fei hurried to cover, “Just now was nothing more than us joking around. I won’t take it seriously. A joke, just a joke.”
Qi Siluo pursed his lips, slinging an arm around her shoulder, tilting his head at her. “Your Highness, how is it I find you a little sharper than before?”
Qin Fei forced a smile. “The heir jests. My mind has always been dull, my memory poor. Meeting you today and learning you’re Perceptor Cen’s friend, I only thought to make another friend. Once I marry him, we’ll have more chances to meet.”
Qi Siluo burst into loud, unrestrained laughter.
“Enough.” Cen Hejue’s eyes drooped, displeased, and he shoved away the hand resting on Qin Fei’s shoulder. “Go quickly. If someone discovers you here, beware the old marquis taking your life.”
Qi Siluo stuck out his tongue, but before leaving, he pinched Qin Fei’s cheek. “Little princess, until next time.”
He strode out boldly, leaving through another door. Only when the room was quiet again, with just her and Cen Hejue, did Qin Fei murmur, “Shall we… go back?”
Cen Hejue gave a nonchalant hum, turned, and walked ahead of her—his steps faster, as though to lead the way.
Qin Fei gazed at the tall, upright figure ahead, unable to suppress the chill creeping through her heart.
The raw killing intent in Cen Hejue’s eyes just moments ago—she knew it had not been a joke.
She could tell.
For that brief instant, he had truly wanted to kill her. But why… why had he stopped? Could it be mercy? No. That wasn’t who he was. If he hadn’t killed her, it was either because she still held some value to him, or… because there was something he feared.
Cold sweat dampened Qin Fei’s palms as she tried to guess at his attitude toward her. Her plan had been to marry into the Cen family to escape danger. Yet his behavior just now had thrown her into sudden panic.
Perhaps she was safer in the palace. If she married into the Cen household, wouldn’t she be at his mercy, to be crushed or toyed with at will?
Her thoughts tangled into chaos until she came back to herself in the midst of the crowded, chaotic hall. The press of bodies shoved her from all sides, and she nearly toppled when a burly man crashed into her. She barely managed to steady herself before someone slammed into her from behind.
Though Qin Fei had martial training, her frame was slender, and she couldn’t withstand such a blow—she pitched forward.
Just as her head was about to meet the floor, a hand seized the collar at the back of her neck. Her feet left the ground, and that same hand clamped firmly around her waist.
Like a monkey scrambling up a tree, she instinctively wrapped her arms around the man’s neck. His stride faltered for a moment, then he held her close and pushed forward through the crowd.
The Thousand Gold Pavilion was packed today, and with a murder having just occurred, the throng surged restlessly.
Officials arrived in time, blocking everyone from leaving.
The press of bodies finally stilled, and Qin Fei managed a glance at the man holding her.
It was Cen Hejue.
“Thank you, Perceptor Cen.” Seeing his dark expression, she leaned into his chest, the suffocating pressure easing slightly.
The crush of people, the halted movement, the stifling air—it all made her feel she was about to suffocate.
As the officials investigated ahead, Cen Hejue lowered his gaze to her flushed face, discomfort flickering across his features.
“Your Highness, don’t die here.” Though he held her, his words were still cutting.
Qin Fei gave a faint laugh, her breath ragged, her voice slow: “If I died here, wouldn’t that only benefit you?”
His pupils shifted, as though weighing the possibility. But after a moment, he lifted his eyes again.
Then Qin Fei felt another hand slide behind her legs. In the brief pause of her breath, she was swept up entirely, cradled in his arms.
Though lean in build, he was startlingly strong. With his commanding presence, each step forward parted the crowd, a path opening before him as if by instinct.
Qin Fei was carried straight to the yamen officers. Behind them stood a middle-aged man in official robes, a black gauze cap on his head. The moment he saw Cen Hejue, he hurriedly bowed. “Your humble servant greets the Grand Preceptor.”
Cen Hejue inclined his head slightly. “Prefect.”
The Prefect of Kaifeng glanced at the person in Cen Hejue’s arms, curiosity flickering—after all, Cen Hejue was betrothed to the Eighth Princess.
“Today I came to the Thousand Gold Pavilion with the Princess. Unexpectedly, such an incident occurred. Her Highness was frightened. I hope the Prefect will investigate thoroughly and apprehend the true culprit swiftly.”
His expression was utterly calm as he spoke. Qin Fei, resting against his chest, could not even hear the rise or fall of his heartbeat.
*Good heavens,* she thought. *This is true acting. He just killed someone, and already he’s forgotten it.*
“Princess?!” The Prefect of Kaifeng was stunned. After one glance at Qin Fei, he dropped to his knees. “This humble official greets Your Highness.”
Were she not cradled in Cen Hejue’s arms, branded with the excuse of being “terrified,” Qin Fei might have knelt in return.
“Cough… cough…” She covered her forehead, her face pale. “Prefect, you are too courteous. I heard someone died inside, and I was truly frightened. Fortunately, Perceptor Cen was here.”
As she spoke, she buried her head against Cen Hejue’s chest, inhaling the faint sandalwood scent, her heartbeat quickening despite herself. *I’m really so scared…*
Cen Hejue’s mouth twitched. If not for the Prefect’s presence, he would have dropped her on the ground then and there.
“This humble servant will investigate thoroughly,” the Prefect stammered, sweating. To encounter both Qin Fei and Cen Hejue at once—one a treacherous minister, the other a spoiled princess—neither easy to deal with. He trembled, fearing that a single misstep might cost him his life.
“Hejue—” Qin Fei’s voice was sweet, almost overdone. When she lifted her eyes, she met a gaze cold as ice, sharper even than when he had gripped her throat earlier.
“Perceptor Cen, I am tired. Let us return.” She withdrew her head from his chest.
Cen Hejue gave a brief hum, then carried her past the Prefect.
Qin Fei glanced back, catching sight of the Prefect bowing deeply in their direction. When she turned again, Cen Hejue’s eyes were fixed ahead, his handsome face devoid of emotion. He did not look back, yet his confidence lay in the fear he inspired in others.
*So this is power,* Qin Fei thought, drawing a deep breath, her chest tightening with unease.
“Your Highness, are you not planning to get down? Or do you wish me to carry you all the way to the carriage?” Cen Hejue’s low voice brushed her ear.
Qin Fei dared not. She quickly leaped down. “No need, no need.”
Qin Fei obediently followed him into the carriage. The ride back to the palace was marked by silence.
On the way there, it had been Cen Hejue who refused to speak. On the way back, it was Qin Fei who found herself unable to open her mouth.
“…”
Cen Hejue lowered his eyes to a book. From the corner of her vision, Qin Fei could see his elegant fingers brushing across the pages, the faint rustle of paper filling the quiet. Those very hands had rested on her throat not long ago, holding her life in their grasp.
“Perceptor Cen…” She hesitated, then asked with difficulty: “Just now, you told the Prefect of Kaifeng to investigate that matter…”
Cen Hejue’s expression did not change; he didn’t even look at her. “Didn’t Your Highness say you would not concern yourself with it? Have you already forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Qin Fei pressed on: “I’m just… a little worried. No one will discover it was you who killed him, right?”
At that, Cen Hejue finally looked at her, as though amused. “Is Your Highness worried for me?”
Her voice weakened. “After all, you’re my betrothed. If you were exposed, our marriage would be ruined. Then I’d have to marry someone else.”
“Does Your Highness not wish to marry another?” Cen Hejue raised a brow. Just moments ago, the little girl had nearly been killed by him—yet now she worried for him?
Qin Fei’s eyes flickered. “Well… how should I put it? Out of all the choices I have, you’re the best one.”
Cen Hejue chuckled. “Isn’t Song Jinglan also eager to marry you?”
Qin Fei bit her lip. “Mm… but compared to him, I like you more.”
The word *like* slipped easily from her lips, as though it carried no weight at all. Yet when it reached the man’s ears, his brows furrowed.
“Your Highness likes me?”
Seeing his reaction, Qin Fei’s heart skipped. She quickly nodded. “Yes, I do.”
Cen Hejue’s face betrayed no joy or anger. He calmly turned his gaze back to the book. “Lies.”
“…”
Well then. She had hoped to charm him with her beauty, but he wasn’t buying it.
When the carriage stopped at Xuanwu Gate, Qin Fei bid him farewell before trudging heavily toward Baohua Palace.
*This is bad. He’ll probably toy with me from now on.*
As she calculated her escape routes, she found herself back at Baohua Palace without realizing it. Er Ya had been waiting for her a long time. Seeing her return, the maid hurried forward with concern.
“Your Highness, how was your outing with Lord Cen today? Did you manage to stir his heart?”
*Stir his heart?* *Does stirring his killing intent count?*
Qin Fei drew in a deep breath, nearly fainting. “Er Ya…”
The maid quickly steadied her, helping her back to the bedchamber, then brought fruit and snacks, massaging her shoulders and back. “What’s wrong, Your Highness?”
Qin Fei bit into a slice of watermelon, her gaze distant. “Tell me, how powerful is the Cen family in the capital?”
Er Ya didn’t hesitate. “The Cen family holds military command, and with Lord Cen, they practically rule the court. Covering the sky with one hand would be easy.”
Qin Fei pressed her forehead. “Then tell me—if I wanted to break off the engagement and secretly flee the capital, what are the chances?”
Er Ya thought for only a breath before answering. “There’s no chance at all.”
“…”
Qin Fei slumped against the chaise longue, her eyes vacant. “I’m doomed. Dead for sure.”
Er Ya was puzzled. “Hasn’t Lord Cen treated you fairly well lately? Why would you want to break off the engagement and flee? You’re a princess. Even if you don’t marry him, you can’t leave the capital on your own.”
Exactly. That was the problem.
If Qin Fei were just the daughter of an ordinary official, escape might be possible. But one glance at the towering palace walls, enclosing her on all sides, showed her there was no way out. Even if she didn’t marry Cen Hejue, her only path was a political marriage.
Marrying Cen Hejue might mean survival. But a marriage alliance? With Northern Qi’s temperament, they would surely stir up trouble.
Facing an army alone—she hadn’t mastered such peerless martial arts. Her chance of survival was zero.
“The world kisses me with pain, and I just… die of it.” Qin Fei collapsed onto the chaise, opening her mouth for Er Ya to feed her grapes.
“Has Your Highness thought it through?” Er Ya asked when Qin Fei fell silent. “You’re not planning to break off the engagement anymore?”
Qin Fei gave a hollow laugh. “If I don’t die, fine. If I do, so be it.”
Seeing her mistress muttering, Er Ya tried to cheer her. “By the way, there’s something that will make you happy. Soon there will be a lantern festival. The Emperor has entrusted Lord Cen to oversee it outside the palace. He’ll likely take you out to enjoy it. In the next few days, let’s pick out some beautiful clothes so you can attend in style.”
“Enjoy it?” Qin Fei thought bitterly. *I only hope Cen Hejue doesn’t enjoy playing with me.*
Cen Residence, Study.
A flame flickered in the lamp, casting shadows across the man’s face, unreadable and obscure.
“Master, today the Eighth Princess saw the heir kill someone. What do you plan to do?”
Cen Hejue leaned against his hand, silent at first, the air heavy with stillness.
The attendant pressed again. “Do you intend to spare the princess?”
“Spare?” Cen Hejue’s fingers brushed the pen rack, his gaze shifting, deep and cold as a frozen pool. At length, he said, “I had thought of it.”
“But unfortunately, she saw what she should never have seen.”
“So—”
“She must die.”