Chapter 13: The Prince Is a Little Bride

“Benefactor?”

Rong Zhao frowned slightly, puzzled as he looked at the young lady beside him, who was staring blankly into the air with her head slightly tilted back. He extended his slender finger, waving it in front of her eyes.

In the next moment, his fingertip was suddenly grasped by someone.

Sheng Mingyue, deeply engrossed in her thoughts, only noticed the loud noise beside her ear. Instinctively, she caught the hand disrupting her focus and whispered sharply, “Don’t cause trouble.”

Rong Zhao was stunned. His gaze fell on the small hand tightly holding his fingertip. An inexplicable warmth flushed his ears, and the bold words stuck in his throat, unable to be spoken.

[What the—how did these two escalate so quickly?]

[Is the little pawn crazy? Grabbing everything will only get you into trouble!]

[Wake up, sister pawn! Stop daydreaming—you’re holding the prince’s hand!]

[Once again, this sister is truly fearless.]

Seeing the rapidly scrolling comments, Sheng Mingyue suddenly snapped back to reality.

She fixed her eyes on her own hands, which were indeed clutching the prince’s fingertip.

Looking up further, she saw Rong Zhao’s face flush faintly red, his expression confused and hesitant, as if wanting to say something but holding back.

“Servant…” Sheng Mingyue hurriedly released his finger, a blush flooding her small face, nearly bursting into tears. “The servant did not mean to… did not mean to… the servant deserves death!”

As she spoke, she made a move to kneel, but a pair of sturdy hands firmly supported her arm.

Sheng Mingyue looked up and saw Rong Zhao’s face growing even redder.

“You’re injured. Don’t kneel.”

Since childhood, Rong Zhao had always been surrounded by men and had never been this close to a woman before. With only the two of them in the carriage, even their breaths seemed entangled.

Despite her fluster, Rong Zhao did not lose his composure. After helping Sheng Mingyue up, he quickly withdrew his hand and shuffled to the corner, sitting quietly at the back without a word.

Like... like a little wife who had been bullied!

Sheng Mingyue was also blushing deeply, wishing she could disappear into a crack in the ground and slap herself twice.

Told you to stop daydreaming! Told you not to grab everything!

The atmosphere between them grew subtle, their faces redder by the moment. Onlookers, delighted by this sweetness, began to cheer wildly, except for a few who cursed Sheng Mingyue as a temptress.

—

East Market Street

Yun Shengsheng left in anger without gaining anything, completely unaware that not far away, inside a teahouse, a figure was intently watching her.

Only after she and her maid had walked away did Rong Yan step out from behind the window. Looking at her retreating figure, a flash of pain crossed his eyes.

“Ah Sheng…”

Rong Yan closed his eyes, his fists clenched tighter and tighter at his sides. “You betrayed me too…”

“Your Highness, I have contacted the former subordinates of the Tang family. Upon hearing of your return to the palace, they are all delighted and, out of respect for Lord Tang and Her Majesty, they have volunteered to serve you.”

A trusted aide’s voice sounded in his ear, pulling Rong Yan’s thoughts back. He murmured, “Tell them to await my orders quietly.”

“Yes.”

Rong Yan exited the First-Rank Tea House and wandered aimlessly.

His heart was restless and uncertain, unsure of his father’s intentions.

Since his return to the palace, although his rank was restored, he was forbidden from attending court or entering the imperial academy. Compared to his eight diligent royal brothers serving their father, he felt more like a mere ornament.

His father clearly still harbored doubts about him.

Once suspicion takes root, it becomes deeply entrenched and difficult to uproot. He must seek another way…

Lost in thought, Rong Yan unknowingly walked into the middle of the street.

“Watch out!”

A horse whinnied sharply beside him, and suddenly, a pair of delicate hands grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back to the roadside.

Rong Yan broke out in a cold sweat. Looking up, he saw a man riding horseback down the street, laughing loudly at his misfortune.

“Are you alright? Don’t be scared silly.”

Hearing the woman’s voice, Rong Yan turned and met a pair of apricot-colored eyes.

Zhao Can blinked, seeing his dazed expression. Hesitating, she stepped back two paces and murmured, “Could he be an idiot? I hope he doesn’t drag me into trouble…”

Rong Yan frowned deeply, ignoring her disrespect, and softly said, “Thank you for saving my life.”

He then tore off the purse from his waist and handed it to her. “Consider this a token of my gratitude.”

Zhao Can was stunned at first but then overjoyed. Without hesitation, she took the purse, weighing it in her hand. “It’s nothing, just a small favor.”

Such a small gesture earned her a heavy purse—an absolute win!

Today was truly her lucky day!

Rong Yan looked at her face, which grew more familiar by the moment. It seemed he had seen her somewhere before. “You… have we met?”

Zhao Can looked up in surprise, scanning him up and down before laughing. “Young master, your pick-up line is too cliché. Even if you have no experience, you must have read some novels, right?”

“I’ll keep the purse. Perhaps we shall meet again.”

With that, Zhao Can left, hopping along and humming a tune, utterly lacking the decorum expected of a young lady.

—

Rong Yan’s frown deepened as he stared after her retreating figure. After a long moment, he realized why she seemed familiar: “She looks… remarkably similar to the Minister of Personnel.”

An aide hurried over, sweating profusely. Seeing his master standing unharmed by the roadside, he breathed a sigh of relief. “My lord… are you alright?”

Rong Yan shook his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Jin Song, how many daughters does Minister Zhao Deming have?”

Jin Song scratched his head, thinking hard before answering, “I recall Zhao Deming having two daughters and a son… no, wait, he also has another daughter who was raised at the estate and only recently brought back. So, three daughters and one son.”

“What’s the name of the one who was brought back?”

“I think… Zhao Can? I’m not sure. I only know she’s a concubine’s daughter, so I didn’t pay much attention…”

Rong Yan raised an eyebrow, a trace of regret in his eyes. He murmured, “What a pity. Being a concubine’s daughter isn’t worth my trouble. Let’s go back to the palace.”

“Yes.”

—

Prince Jing’an’s Residence

As night fell and a cool breeze swept through, the residence’s lights were extinguished, and few people ventured outside.

In the Wutong courtyard, Rong Zhao sat alone by the window, his fingertips lightly brushing the long zither before him. The room was unlit, with even the charcoal removed, chilling and desolate.

“Your Highness, it’s cold. I still brought the charcoal fire inside,” Yun Lai stood nearby, face full of helplessness, pleading repeatedly, “If you keep sulking, your cough will worsen.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rong Zhao lowered his head, half his face shrouded in shadow, indistinct. “What good can a single pot of charcoal fire do? The damned man can live a few more years, can’t he?”

He had long been world-weary, indifferent to life or death. Nothing could rekindle his interest unless it was for the sake of a certain benefactor in recent days—otherwise, he wouldn’t even want to leave his room.

Benefactor…

The image of the heroine’s shy, timid face flashed through his mind, and for a moment, Rong Zhao was dazed.

The night was deep... What was she doing?

Thinking of this, he involuntarily raised his head, peering through the half-opened vermilion window toward the neighboring courtyard.

There, the Chrysanthemum Heart Garden was brightly lit, not only with lamps still burning but faint sounds of laughter and merriment drifting over the high walls.

Curiosity stirred within Rong Zhao, and he rose slowly.

Yun Lai hurried forward, whispering, “Your Highness, where are you going?”

Rong Zhao’s gaze was unwavering as he stepped out the door. “I’m going to see my benefactor. You don’t need to follow.”