Behind the jagged rocks of the Imperial Garden's grotto, the Second Prince, Xiao Yu, hid in the shadows, disguised in the uniform of an Imperial Guard.
He had snuck out from his house arrest specifically to witness the "show." He wanted to see Chu Zhaoning—the woman who had humiliated him at the General's Manor—crumble under his mother's divine pressure, weeping and drowning in the ridicule of the capital's noblewomen. He had even planned his grand entrance as her "savior," offering mock comfort while twisting the knife of humiliation.
However, reality hit him like a thunderous slap across the face—but it also struck deep into his heart.
Through the shifting shadows of the flowers, he saw her. The woman in the snow-white combat gear.
She lacked the boneless fragility of his mistresses and the calculated gentleness of his side-consorts. She stood there, her spine as straight as a spear, her gaze as frigid as a winter star.
As she turned, her high ponytail swept through the air, carrying an indescribable, heroic beauty.
Clang—!
The crisp sound of wooden swords clashing echoed.
Xiao Yu unconsciously held his breath. He saw Chu Zhaoning move. Her actions were devoid of flowery flourishes; every strike was terrifyingly precise, her form moving so fast she became a blur of white. Under her assault, the formidable female officer appeared clumsy and bumbling, retreating step after step.
The fading glow of the setting sun caught the side of her face, highlighting a profile that was exquisite yet fiercely brave. That single touch of cinnabar Nanny Meiniang had forced upon her brow stood out against her white collar—a shocking, breathtaking red, like a winter plum blossom fallen onto fresh snow.
Thump. Thump. Thump...
Xiao Yu heard his own heartbeat.
It wasn't the shallow flutter he felt after a night of debauchery; it was a wild, frantic pounding triggered by a direct collision with raw, untamed beauty. He gripped the rough edges of the grotto rocks so hard his fingertips bled, yet he didn't feel a thing.
He used to think Chu Zhaoning was vulgar, boring, and "not enough of a woman." But now, looking at those eyes full of power and that arrogant disdain for everyone present, he felt the women in his manor—those who only knew how to chirp and coo—suddenly became bland and tasteless.
They were caged canaries; the Chu Zhaoning before him was a lone falcon soaring in the sky.
"So... this is what she's truly like?" Xiao Yu's throat tightened, his palms slick with sweat.
His disgust collapsed entirely, replaced by a warped sense of possessiveness and intense admiration. Regret began to seep in—regret for causing the scandal that night, regret for letting this marriage fall into the hands of his sickly third brother, Xiao Zhan.
He had seen the beauty of peonies a thousand times, but he had never seen a Snow Lotus blooming on the edge of a blade. That aura of cold isolation and lethal sharpness both terrified and mesmerized him. Regret, jealousy, and hunger... a possessive urge he had never felt before surged in his chest. Suddenly, he understood.
He didn't want to destroy her.
He wanted to own her.
At that moment, Crimson Nine spun like a whirlwind, her wooden sword flashing like lightning as it stopped a mere inch from the officer's throat. Amidst the officer's terrified gaze, she sheathed her sword and stood still. Her breathing was steady, her complexion unchanged. Then, her eyes swept—seemingly by chance—toward the grotto.
Xiao Yu's heart jolted. He scrambled back into the deepest depths of the shadows.
[System Prompt: Scanning perimeter life energy. Hidden target detected. Heart rate: 110. Galvanic skin response: Abnormal. Analysis: Target is in a state of high arousal and possessive impulse.]
A mocking curve touched Crimson Nine's lips. She knew exactly where Xiao Yu was hiding, and through the system's data, she read the nauseating thoughts of this pampered Prince.
An agent's intuition told her: the "Hunter" who came to humiliate her had now become the "Prey," consumed by her own magnetism.
On the other side of the garden, within the Octagonal Pavilion, the silk curtains hung low. A cold gaze pierced through the layers of flora, locked firmly onto that snow-white figure.
The Third Prince, Xiao Zhan, held a white jade teacup between his long fingers. The tea had long since gone cold, but he was oblivious, his eyes as deep as the sea before a storm.
[System Prompt: Detecting strong directional visual scan. Coordinates: 10 o'clock, distance 45 meters. Target ID: Xiao Zhan.]
The faint synthesized voice echoed in Crimson Nine's ear. She arched an eyebrow but didn't look back; the smirk on her face only deepened.
Inside, Xiao Zhan was far from the calm he projected.
The little Junior Sister in his memory always wore oversized training robes, her face flushed as she followed him, her eyes full of innocence and admiration.
But the woman before him, standing in combat gear amidst the flowers, facing the Noble Consort's pressure and the crowd's mockery... she hadn't just stood her ground. She was an ancient blade, cleansed of dust, revealing its lethal edge. When she spoke of the "Chu Family's Soul," that arrogance—elevated far above the nobility—caused a shock and a... throb in his heart that he had never felt before.
Then, Xiao Zhan caught sight of Xiao Yu's lost, dazed expression behind the grotto. His eyes darkened instantly, flashing with a trace of icy, murderous intent.
He knew Xiao Yu too well. That look wasn't admiration; it was the greed of a beast that had spotted its prey.
Seeing Xiao Yu staring at Crimson Nine's back, Xiao Zhan's grip on the teacup tightened. His knuckles turned white from the sheer force.
"Your Highness," Shadow Blade appeared soundlessly behind him, whispering, "The Second Prince seems to have... developed designs on Miss Chu. Should I—"
"No need." Xiao Zhan cut him off, his voice as cold as frost. "If he dares to reach out his hand, I will sever it. If he dares to harbor a thought, I will carve out his heart."
He said it with terrifying composure, yet it carried a bone-chilling scent of blood.
Xiao Zhan suddenly let out a soft laugh and downed the cold tea in one gulp. Behind him, Shadow Blade watched in horror as the solid white jade cup in his master's hand began to crack, a web of fractures spreading across it from the sheer force of his internal energy.
"Chu Zhaoning, just how many secrets... are you hiding?"
He watched as Crimson Nine finally turned her head. Across the distance of the flowers and trees, she cast a precise, mocking glance in his direction. It was a look that saw through everything, as if saying:
"Is it fun, watching the show from there? My dear... Senior. Brother."