“Ah Lang…”
A tear fell.
Wu Lang’s eyes stung. Without pausing to wipe it away, he sprang to his feet and ran toward Xue Yunyi.
He knelt obediently by her wheelchair. The evening breeze carried a chill, turning the tear tracks on his face icy, but his heart brimmed with warmth—like a lump of sugar melted over a fire, ready to overflow.
The Eldest Princess hadn’t cast him aside.
The Eldest Princess had called him… Ah Lang.
Not bastard. Not trash. Not any of those humiliating, degrading words. Just Ah Lang.
Wu Lang grinned foolishly.
He huddled cautiously at Xue Yunyi’s skirt hem, his plain white robes streaked with rain and mud, a vivid red handprint blooming across half his face. He looked like a stray dog that had been bullied outside, utterly wretched.
Yet the Eldest Princess reached out and touched his head without a hint of distaste.
She was comforting him.
Wu Lang wished he could grow a tail to wag for her. Lacking one, he lifted his head and gently nuzzled her palm instead, his lovely dark eyes gazing pleadingly up at her serene, lovely profile.
Xue Qingzhi stared at the scene, her face etched with disbelief.
She had schemed endlessly, broken every shred of Wu Lang’s proud spirit, and bound him to her side. Yet in less than a month, he no longer acknowledged her as his mistress. Her imperial sister needed only a single word to make him submit so meekly.
Rage cracked Xue Qingzhi’s eyes nearly wide open. She itched to order the guards to drag Wu Lang back to Ninghua Palace right that instant—she couldn’t bear to wait another moment.
But Xue Yunyi’s voice yanked her back to reality.
“Sister’s good intentions are appreciated, but This Palace has no need of them. Sister should keep them for herself.”
Xue Yunyi’s palm gently stroked the boy’s ink-black hair. Her calm, clear eyes turned toward Xue Qingzhi, cold as snow blanketing a silent forest branch.
They seemed delicate, yet carried the weight to snap a mountain in two.
That gaze sent an inexplicable chill racing up Xue Qingzhi’s spine. Only after a moment did she recover, furrowing her brow.
She hated this feeling of looking up at someone. Hated it intensely.
She stepped forward to climb the stone steps and stand before Xue Yunyi, but Mo Ying blocked her path first, politely saying, “If the Second Princess has more to say, she can say it from there.”
What more was there to say?
Xue Yunyi clearly had no intention of returning the boy. He was just a lowly slave—hardly worth causing a scene in Azure Cypress Palace over. If word reached Father Emperor, it wouldn’t look good.
Gritting her teeth, Xue Qingzhi glared venomously at Wu Lang for a long moment before huffing in fury and turning to leave.
Xue Yunyi called after her.
“Wait.”
She glanced at the fresh magnolia branch in Qingdai’s hand, then at the broken pile discarded in the middle of the bluestone path nearby. Her eyes darkened.
These white magnolias filled the courtyard—planted together with Empress Jiang when she was six.
Every late spring, pushing open the west window revealed a sea of flowers swaying like waves, their faint fragrance drifting on the air.
She had trimmed every branch and cluster herself. Now, they lay snapped and tossed aside.
“Mo Ying, count how many branches the Second Princess has broken,” she said, word by word.
Xue Qingzhi whipped around, glaring furiously. “What, does Imperial Sister want me to pay for them?”
Xue Yunyi replied coolly, “Naturally. These white magnolias are priceless rarities, notoriously delicate and hard to cultivate. This Palace has nurtured this whole garden with great care, only for Sister to snap so many on a whim. How am I to enjoy them now?”
“Reporting to Your Highness, there are sixteen scattered on the ground,” Mo Ying called out. “Adding the one in Qingdai’s hand makes seventeen.”
Xue Yunyi nodded and turned to Xue Qingzhi. “One thousand taels per branch. Will Sister pay in silver or jewelry?”
Xue Qingzhi’s mind went blank for a moment. Fearing she hadn’t grasped the total, Mo Ying helpfully added, “Second Princess, that comes to seventeen thousand taels.”
Seventeen thousand taels?
Xue Qingzhi snapped back to herself and laughed in fury. “Are Imperial Sister’s flowers made of gold?”
“What, can’t Sister afford it?” Xue Yunyi’s lips curved faintly. “Father Emperor dotes on Sister most of all. I hear her palace has over a dozen storehouses just for jewelry. Surely she can spare this bit of silver?”
Xue Qingzhi choked, silent for a long beat before mumbling, “Fine, I’ll pay. I’ll have someone send it over later.”
She refused to let Xue Yunyi look down on her!
Still, seventeen thousand taels was no small sum.
Father Emperor’s gifts were generous, but she had always spent lavishly, silver flowing out like water every day. She hadn’t saved much these past few years.
This trip had cost her the boy and a fortune to boot. What rotten luck.
The more Xue Qingzhi thought, the angrier she grew. As she stormed past the magnolia grove on her way out, she couldn’t resist yanking down another branch and grinding it underfoot.
Mo Ying called out promptly, “Eighteen thousand taels.”
Xue Qingzhi staggered but finally left the magnolias alone. With Qingdai supporting her, she stormed out of Azure Cypress Palace in a huff.
Xue Yunyi calmly withdrew her gaze and ordered the palace maids to clean up the mess. Then she had Mo Ying wheel her back to the bedchamber.
Wu Lang followed, head bowed.
Mo Ying glanced at Xue Yunyi, then at Wu Lang kneeling to the side, and tactfully made an excuse. “Your Highness’s medicine should be ready. This servant will go check.”
Her footsteps hurried away.
The chamber fell quiet. Xue Yunyi coughed for a stretch before turning back to appraise the pitiful, bullied boy before her.
His clothes were a mess, but mercifully, there were no bleeding wounds—just his hands, properly folded on his knees, caked in grime.
She frowned and patted her lap. “Put your hands here. Let This Palace see.”
“Yes.”
Wu Lang obeyed at once. But spotting the pretty embroidered blanket on her knees, he hesitated. He pressed his lips together and tentatively placed his left hand atop it, careful not to let his palm touch even a thread—balancing on his wrist alone.
His hands were filthy.
He’d dirty Your Highness’s blanket.
“The other one,” Xue Yunyi said patiently.
Only then did she notice his right hand clenched tight, as if hiding something.
Wu Lang kept his eyes downcast and silently uncurled his fingers, hesitantly offering it to Xue Yunyi.
A plain little sugar box.
Xue Yunyi stared at it for a long moment before recalling that she had once casually given it to him.
One corner of the lid was cracked. Inside, something powdery—faintly medicinal, mingled with a subtle floral-herbal scent.
“This is…”
Surprise crossed her face as she waited for him to explain.
“Replying to Your Highness, this servant made medicinal incense,” Wu Lang murmured. He carefully recounted how he had secretly used the Fairy Dream to craft it. “…Your Highness has been ill these past days and restless at night. This servant was so worried about Your Highness’s health that he took the liberty of making this incense.”
“You understand pharmacology?” Xue Yunyi asked, surprised.
Wu Lang didn’t dare boast. “This servant knows a little.”
Back at Wu Mansion, he used to sneak into Madam Wu’s study to read her books, earning countless beatings for it. Eventually, she must have tired of punishing his thirst for knowledge and turned a blind eye. Over the years, he pored through every volume in her six rooms of books.
Xue Yunyi gently lifted the sugar box. The edges were crusted with mud, and only scraps of incense powder remained inside, sodden and ruined.
Wu Lang’s eyes dimmed, his voice growing smaller. “This servant is useless. He broke Your Highness’s gift. Please punish him.”
“Who says Ah Lang is useless?” Xue Yunyi leaned in to sniff it, her tone warm. “This Palace likes the scent. Far better than the calming incense I usually use. Ah Lang is truly talented.”
Stunned, Wu Lang looked up, astonishment flashing in his eyes.
Xue Yunyi set the box aside and examined his hands.
She told him to turn them palm-up. He did so silently, revealing the angry red imprint of a shoe sole across his knuckles. The skin was broken in several places, oozing thin trails of blood—ghastly to behold.
Xue Yunyi quickly realized he had let Xue Qingzhi stomp him to protect the box of incense. Her heart ached, and she frowned.
“It’s just a sugar box. If it’s broken, it’s broken. Your hands matter more.”
She chided him softly while drawing a handkerchief from her sleeve. Gently, she wiped away the mud and blood from his skin.
Wu Lang held his breath, hand outstretched and utterly still. For a moment, he forgot everything but the pounding of his heart.
Xue Yunyi glanced up incidentally and noticed the streaked tear tracks under his eyes. She paused faintly.
“When did you cry?”
Wu Lang hastily swiped at his face, eyes dropping in embarrassment. He didn’t know how to explain. “This servant… thought Your Highness no longer wanted him.”
“Just for that?”
“…Yes.” Wu Lang didn’t dare lie.
For some reason, recalling that instant of abandonment made fresh tears well up. He had never cried before—no matter how many slaps or lashes he took, he always gritted his teeth through it. But in front of the Eldest Princess, he was always like this. Always so useless.
The Eldest Princess wouldn’t want a slave who cried all the time.
Wu Lang bit his lip tightly, trying to hold back his tears through the pain transmitted from it.
Xue Yunyi watched it all, and after a long moment, she finally let out a soft sigh.
That single sigh made Wu Lang’s heart leap into his throat. He fought desperately to stifle his tears, unwilling to make any move that might annoy the Eldest Princess.
In the next instant, however, someone gripped his wrist. His entire body was pulled forward, and he found himself draped across Xue Yunyi’s lap.
Wu Lang’s mind went blank for a moment, his breath catching in panic at his throat. Xue Yunyi leaned over him, and before he could react, his face collided with a soft, ample warmth. His arms were gently guided around to her waist.
He drowned in a dreamlike haze of rich magnolia fragrance, his head spinning and vision blurring.
It took quite some time before Wu Lang dazedly realized that the Eldest Princess… was holding him.
He had never felt so at a loss. His hands trembled with nowhere to settle, that creamy warmth enveloping his cheek. He didn’t even dare to breathe, holding his face until it flushed deep red.
The Eldest Princess’s palm lightly stroked his quivering back, while her other hand threaded into the ink-black hair draped over his shoulder, as if soothing an injured little beast.
Only then did he gradually relax, his face still burning crimson as he nestled quietly and obediently in her embrace.
“This Palace won’t let her take you away. This Palace wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he heard the Eldest Princess say. “Does that put your mind at ease now?”
Wu Lang froze for a second, and then his tears came spilling out, impossible to stop. A fragmented whimper escaped his throat, and he hastily bit his lip again, swallowing back the sounds that shouldn’t be heard.
But the tears only flowed harder, quickly soaking a large patch on the front of Xue Yunyi’s robes. In his panic, he tried to apologize, only for Xue Yunyi to press him back down.
“Cry if you want to cry.”
“Does your hand hurt from being stepped on? If it hurts, then cry it out.”
“There’s no rule against you crying.”
Her voice was gentle, flowing over him like a breeze after rain, seeping into the parched, barren wasteland at the bottom of his heart.
Wu Lang’s nose stung sharply. He stopped caring about anything else and buried his face forcefully in Xue Yunyi’s embrace.
He could hear the Eldest Princess’s heartbeat, smell the fragrance on the Eldest Princess’s body. The Eldest Princess was holding him—he belonged to the Eldest Princess.
In all his more than ten years of life, this was the first time he had been treated with such tenderness.
In that moment, Wu Lang thought that he would do anything for the Eldest Princess—
Even die for her.
Slowly, Xue Yunyi felt the wet heat against her chest, felt the desperate restraint in the youth’s trembling back—so aggrieved, so overwhelming.
Much later, the figure in her arms finally stopped shaking. He lifted a tear-streaked face, his eyes red-rimmed as he gazed up at her.
“This slave thanks Your Highness for your grace,” he said hoarsely, a faint tremor lingering in his voice like a suppressed sob.
Xue Yunyi’s heart suddenly skipped a beat.
The dim light in the hall cast shadows that made his damp black eyes resemble shattered cold jade.
The youth, face streaked with tears, lay in her arms and looked up at her as though she were a goddess.
Unbidden, her gaze drifted to his slightly parted thin lips.
Slowly, following the rhythm of her heartbeat, she leaned down closer.
Wu Lang held his breath in tension.
She suddenly raised her eyes, their gazes locking. Ripples of shock trembled in the youth’s eyes.
It was clear he yearned for it, yet he dared not overstep even a fraction—so he could only wait obediently for her to bestow her grace.
Xue Yunyi paused for a breath, cupping his damp cheek. Her breath mingled with the restrained exhale from his lips.
“Do you want it?”
She asked softly, her thumb gently caressing his thin lips.
The youth nodded frantically, raw longing spilling from his clear dark eyes.
“I do…
“This slave wants it so much.”
He stared straight at her, swallowing hard, his breath coming hot and ragged.
“Please…
“Mistress.”