Qin Fei should have been grateful—the man withdrew his gaze just in time, his tone cool as he shifted the subject. “Yesterday, in the Zichen Hall, why did Your Highness say those things to me?”
Which things? That marrying her was better than marrying Qin Xiu? Or that his abilities were unmatched, and Great Qin’s empire needed his support?
Qin Fei thought for a moment, then ventured cautiously: “Qin Xiu?”
Cen Hejue raised his brows slightly, neither confirming nor denying.
Qin Fei wasn’t one to slander others behind their backs, but when her life was at stake, she had no choice but to play the villain. “Preceptor, it’s not only that Qin Xiu isn’t worthy of you. Father would never allow it. He dotes on her too much, and he fears the Cen family. How could he possibly give her to you?”
Cen Hejue leaned back against the broad chair, his spine still straight as bamboo, elegant yet unyielding. His handsome face lowered, lashes thick and dark, hiding his expression.
“Fears… the Cen family.” After a pause, his lips curved upward without warmth. Staring at the stack of memorials on the desk, he said slowly:
“Your Highness is bold indeed. Words others dare not speak—you dare.”
Qin Fei drew a deep breath and forced a smile. “Well, I’m going to marry you, aren’t I? That makes us family. Family shouldn’t speak like strangers. Since I’ve already told Father I want to marry you, it means I’ve thought through the risks.”
“And do you know why the Emperor fears the Cen family?” His interest seemed piqued. He half-lifted his lids, resting his chin on his hand as he studied her.
Being stared at by such a man made Qin Fei uneasy. His eyes warned her: if she so much as mentioned that Cen’s father had died because of the Emperor, he would kill her instantly.
“That’s simple.” She forced a smile. “Because the Cen family has you, and General Cen. Civil and military power combined—of course, it breeds suspicion. Only if I marry you will General Cen surrender his command.”
Cen Hejue gave a soft “oh.” “Then why, knowing that marrying you means surrendering military power, did I still agree to this match?”
“?!”
Right. Why indeed? In the original story, Cen Hejue never married her—so the military power was never surrendered. He needed that power for revenge. Why would he agree now? Her mind spun with possibilities, narrowing to two.
First: Cen Hejue had other methods. Even if the general surrendered command, his foundation would remain intact. Second: Their wedding was still a month away. If he raised troops and rebelled within that month, he could eliminate the royal family outright.
Could it be… Cen Hejue planned to seize the throne within a month?
But in the original ending, Song Jinglan died first, and only then did Cen Hejue ascend. Did he already have such strength now?
“Why is Your Highness silent?” Cen Hejue seemed amused by her frightened expression.
Truth be told, the old Qin Fei had never pleased him. He had planned that once he took power, she would be torn apart by horses. But now… this girl seemed a little more interesting.
Qin Fei swallowed hard, feigning ignorance. “Could it be… You secretly harbor affection for me?”
Cen Hejue’s lips twisted. “I think the likelihood of me imprisoning Your Highness in my manor and tormenting you daily is far greater.”
Qin Fei felt thunderstruck. Her mind buzzed blankly.
“Just joking.” He propped his chin, face relaxed for once, perhaps entertained by her expression, his smile hovering between mockery and amusement.
Qin Fei wanted to laugh along, but she couldn’t.
“Then why don’t you tell me, Your Highness—why abandon Song Jinglan, and choose me instead?” he asked.
“That’s easy…” Qin Fei drew a steady breath and declared, “You’re more handsome than he is, and far more capable. I believe that if you and Song Jinglan were compared, you would be the one to win in the end.”
Cen Hejue showed little interest in her flattery, but the words “win in the end” pleased him greatly.
“Return to your palace, Your Highness.” He leaned back against the chair, lowering his gaze. “Tomorrow in class, do not repeat today’s behavior.”
Only after Qin Fei disappeared from the side hall did Cen Hejue lift his eyes slightly, his emotions dark and unreadable. She actually knew his plan. Earlier, he had deliberately tested her with talk of surrendering military power. A normal person would assume that command of the army belonged to the Emperor, and surrendering it was natural. Yet Qin Fei had reacted differently, deflecting with evasive words. She knew he wanted the military power for rebellion. This woman… must die.
Back in Baohua Palace, Qin Fei lay stiffly on her bed. Just a few words with Cen Hejue had left her feeling immense pressure. True, he was the great villain—but if she showed sincerity, surely he wouldn’t make things difficult for her? Yet her sincerity still seemed insufficient.
“Your Highness, the kitchens are preparing supper. Please have some pastries first.” Er Ya brought in a plate of delicate cakes, shaped like butterflies, fragrant and sweet.
Qin Fei swallowed, popped one into her mouth, and savored the lingering sweetness. “What kind of pastry is this? It’s delicious.”
“This is *white jade dumpling*. You’ve always loved it, Your Highness. Don’t you remember?” Er Ya replied, puzzled.
Lounging on the couch, Qin Fei crossed her legs and stuffed another piece into her mouth. “The name is nice—*white jade dumpling*.”
No wonder sweets lift the mood. She was nearly drowsy from eating when inspiration struck. “Tell the kitchens to prepare another portion of these tomorrow morning, will you?”
Er Ya nodded. “I’ll go instruct them.”
The next day, spring sunlight was bright.
Qin Fei carried a food box and arrived early at Mingxin Hall. Cen Hejue hadn’t come yet, and the hall was empty. It reminded her of exam days, when students crowded into school at five or six in the morning. Compared to that, ancient life seemed far more relaxed.
Never mind. Since no one was here, she might as well nap.
She soon dreamed: Cen Hejue smiling faintly one moment, then turning into a ravenous wolf the next, jaws wide to swallow her whole. She woke drenched in sweat—only to meet a pair of deep, black eyes. Startled, she cried out and scrambled back.
Cen Hejue chuckled. “Your Highness had a nightmare?”
Qin Fei swallowed and forced a sheepish smile. “Yes.”
“What kind of nightmare?” He seemed genuinely curious.
Qin Fei quickly changed the subject. “Nothing much. But why is no one here for class today? Is it a rest day?”
“It’s already over.” Cen Hejue’s reply was brief. He gathered his books, preparing to leave.
Qin Fei gasped. She hadn’t realized she’d slept through the entire lesson. Grabbing her food box, she hurried after him.
“Does Your Highness have more business with me?” Cen Hejue paused, turning to look at the shadow trailing behind him.
“I brought you pastries—meant for your breakfast.” Qin Fei touched the food box. It had been warm earlier, but now it was completely cold.
Cen Hejue’s gaze fell on the box. Seizing the chance, Qin Fei quickly opened it and held it out. “Try one?”
He hesitated, as though uncertain.
Unexpectedly, Cen Hejue actually liked sweets. Qin Fei made a mental note, pushing the plate closer. “These were made in my palace kitchens. I tasted them yesterday—they’re very good.”
Only then did Cen Hejue pick up a piece of *white jade dumpling*, placing it between his lips and chewing slowly.
His expression… utterly calm. Even… faintly disdainful?
“Terrible.” He tossed the half-eaten dumpling back onto the plate.
Qin Fei: *Excuse me??*
She had tried them fresh yesterday—they weren’t so bad that they deserved *that* verdict.
“Your tastes are rather picky.” She closed the box, noticing how he brushed the crumbs from his palm, looking faintly displeased.
Was he actually upset? Over this?
“Your Highness is a princess. Best not to eat food of this quality in the future.” His voice was cool as he turned, leaving her with a merciless silhouette.
*This quality?*
Fuming, Qin Fei hugged the food box and stormed off. High-ranking men were impossible to please. Still, she refused to accept defeat. It must have been because the dumplings had gone cold. She would reheat them and try again.
“Miss Gu, feeling better today? Finally willing to come to Mingxin Hall?”
“Sick for half a month—were you just avoiding us?”
Qin Fei froze at the voices. *Gu?*
She remembered—the heroine of the original story was surnamed Gu. Full name Gu Nian. Her mother had died young, leaving her unloved in the Chancellor’s household. Kind-hearted, fragile—the perfect little white flower.
“Are you here to make trouble for me?” The voice was gentle yet firm, unlike the others’ sharp tones.
Qin Fei followed the sound to a small grove. Three girls had cornered a striking young woman in a moon-white dress. Her brows were drawn in sorrow, her beauty delicate and pitiful.
“Gu Nian, even if we bully you, what can you do? Your father only cares for your stepmother and half-sister. Do you really expect Young Master Song to save you?”
*So it was her—the heroine.* Qin Fei sighed, spotting Qin Xiu among the bullies. “Ladies, don’t trouble Miss Gu.”
The three scoffed. “Third Princess is too kind. Everyone knows Young Master Song admires you. Yet this fox spirit dares seduce him—truly hateful.”
Qin Fei leaned against a tree, exasperated. *When will these cliché villainous lackeys disappear?*
The bullies pressed closer. Behind Gu Nian lay a pond. If Qin Fei remembered correctly, Gu Nian couldn’t swim.
Her mind flashed to the original plot: the heroine bullied, pushed into the water, rescued just in time by the hero. He reported the incident to the Emperor, who punished everyone present—including Qin Fei, who had merely mocked Gu Nian in passing. She had been forced to kneel in the ancestral hall for two days and nights, punished more severely than Qin Xiu.
From afar came the sound of hurried footsteps. Qin Fei glanced up and saw several men rushing toward the pond.
*Disaster.*
Qin Fei had no intention of taking the blame.
“Miss Gu, the weather must have muddled your head. How dare you covet the Third Princess’s beloved? Perhaps we should toss you in to clear your mind?”
The one closest to Gu Nian was Huang Yingying, daughter of the Minister of War—the same girl who had thrown a book at Qin Fei’s head yesterday. It seemed that the blow had been meant for Gu Nian, but struck her instead.
“Stop—!” Qin Xiu froze at the voice, watching as Qin Fei stepped directly in front of Gu Nian.
“Campus bullying, is it? First time I’ve seen it with my own eyes. You little brats had better not try anything.” Qin Fei’s words, though domineering, fit the persona of her original self, so no one found them strange—just unexpected.
Huang Yingying frowned. “Your Highness, aren’t you the one who hates Gu Nian most? Today I’m helping you punish her.”
Qin Fei jabbed a finger at her. “Big talk for someone so blind. Wipe the gunk from your eyes before you speak. If you’re so idle, go polish shoe soles in a factory. Keep stirring trouble and I’ll send you to the countryside to shovel dung.”
Huang Yingying’s face flushed crimson. “Your Highness—you insulted me? And so crudely?”
Qin Xiu glanced at Gu Nian behind Qin Fei, her tone airy. “Eighth Sister, are you still half-asleep? Go back to the palace and rest. Miss Gu has matters to discuss with them.”
The three girls exchanged looks, preparing to bypass Qin Fei.
“Stop right there!” If not for maintaining her persona, Qin Fei would have rolled up her sleeves and slapped each of these petty bullies—barely teenagers, yet already tormenting classmates.
Gu Nian’s voice trembled with concern. “Your Highness, I don’t know why you’re helping me today, but please leave. I don’t want you implicated.”
*Of course—the heroine. Even at death’s door, still thinking of others.*
Qin Fei rolled her eyes. Just then, Huang Yingying and her friends lunged, shoving Gu Nian—only for Qin Fei to be knocked into the pond instead.
“Damn—!”
Cold water rushed into her nose and mouth. Huang Yingying, tripped by a branch, had miscalculated. “Your Highness!” she cried in panic.
“Glug—damn—glug glug—how could you—glug—push the wrong person…” Qin Fei sputtered, choking on mouthfuls of water. The original body couldn’t swim, but after a few frantic kicks, her instincts took over and she managed to float. “Thank heaven I can swim.”
Huang Yingying brightened, reaching out.“Your Highness, swim over here!”
Qin Fei intended to—but before she could, ripples spread across the pond.
“Don’t fear, Your Highness—Jinglan will save you!” Song Jinglan cut through the water, jawline sharp, clothes drenched yet still radiating charm as he swam toward her.
*No!*
In this era, a woman’s reputation was everything. If Song Jinglan rescued her, her name would be ruined. Worse, she was Cen Hejue’s fiancée. If he thought she’d been sullied… She couldn’t imagine how gruesome her death would be.
“Don’t come near me!” Qin Fei shouted, swimming desperately in the opposite direction.
But Song Jinglan refused to give up, chasing her through the water. “Stay still, Your Highness—I’ll save you!”
On shore, Huang Yingying gaped at the sight: one chasing, one fleeing, circling the pond like mad. “Are they… still swimming laps?”
No matter how long she swam, Qin Fei’s strength waned. Just as her limbs faltered, her gaze caught a familiar face among the bushes.
Cen Hejue.
“Save… me…” Her voice was gone, but her eyes locked on him.
He leaned against a tree, watching her sink inch by inch.
Her bright face drained of color. He thought: perhaps he needn’t bother plotting her death. Today, fate would claim her here.
Save her? Impossible. Watching her drown was entertainment enough.