Chapter 2: Doomed to Die

As soon as Rong Zhao finished speaking, a deathly silence fell over the great hall.

“My household is just short of a hardworking maid… For her to risk her life to save her mistress—such devotion is truly moving.”

His voice, mellow and rich like aged wine, drifted softly into Sheng Mingyue’s ears, leaving her momentarily stunned.

At the same time, the black words floating midair multiplied rapidly, scrolling at breakneck speed.

[Is that Rong Zhao? The same Rong Zhao who’s been hopelessly in love with the heroine for three years?]
[He’s here, he’s here! The devoted second lead has arrived! But why is the little prince saving this cannon fodder character?]
[Have you not read the whole story? The little prince is a genuinely good person, gentle to everyone. That cannon fodder is his savior—how could he not speak up for her?]
[Why give a background character so much screen time? We only want to see the domineering, possessive love between the leads!]

Rong Yan bit down hard on his molars, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he stared across at his opponent. “Ninth Uncle, Mingyue has long been drawn to the young monk at Fuxin Temple. As the saying goes, better to tear down ten temples than ruin a single marriage.”

Every time he recalled those five bitter years—how he, a man who once stood tall, had to curry favor with a lowly maid to survive—Rong Yan was seized by nausea.

“Ninth Uncle, it’s best not to steal what belongs to another.”

Sheng Mingyue must die!

Rong Zhao arched an eyebrow gently, ignoring him, and directed his gaze to the young woman kneeling at the center of the hall. His voice was warm as he spoke: “Benefactress, would you rather marry that young monk, or… come with me?”

Sheng Mingyue snapped back to herself, blinking her tear-soaked lashes. She hurriedly performed a deep bow, seizing her last chance at survival. “This servant is willing to follow Your Highness, to serve with utmost loyalty, to work herself to the bone if need be!”

As her words fell, Rong Yan accidentally knocked over a teacup at his side, and the crisp sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the hall.

The emperor cast him a brief, indifferent glance before shifting his gaze and speaking coldly, “So be it. From this day forward, Mingyue belongs to the Prince of Jing’an. For saving your mistress, you shall also be rewarded fifty taels each of silver and gold. This is settled—let there be no further discussion.”

Ignoring the pain in her chest, Sheng Mingyue hastily bowed low, her forehead touching the cold stone floor. Only then did her anxious, restless heart gradually steady. “This servant humbly thanks Your Majesty for your boundless grace.”

Rong Zhao rose slowly, glancing at the untouched imperial meal before him. With a gentle smile, he said, “Elder brother, your humble sibling is weary and will take his leave.”

With that, he was seized by another fit of suppressed coughing.

The emperor waved a hand, speaking in a grave tone. “Go quickly then, and do not catch a chill, or I shall have a hard time explaining things to the Empress Dowager.”

Rong Zhao replied softly, then walked over to Sheng Mingyue, stretching out his hand to her. “Benefactress, come with me.”

At this, the assembled nobles and their families all stared wide-eyed, but none dared utter a word of protest.

No matter that he was a prince, to stoop so low as to assist a mere maid? What decorum was this!

Sheng Mingyue looked up in disbelief, meeting his gaze from below, unable to read the emotions in his eyes.

While she was still stunned, Rong Zhao had already bent down, grasped her thin hand, and helped her to her feet with gentle strength. “You were gravely injured saving me. Lending a hand is nothing—can you still walk on your own?”

Fearing he might do something even more out of line, Sheng Mingyue quickly replied, “Thank you, Your Highness, this servant can manage.”

Rong Zhao nodded slightly and strode out of the hall, not looking back, his steps deliberately slow—as if waiting for her.

With her head lowered, Sheng Mingyue forced herself to ignore the gazes burning into her back and obediently followed him out.

[Even if the second lead is a good man, isn’t this too much? Bringing that cannon fodder home—how will he ever meet the heroine again?]
[Exactly, both male leads should revolve around the heroine!]
[There isn’t even a female fly in the prince’s household, and now, out of nowhere, he’s bringing home a background character whose name barely registers? What’s going on?]
[Am I the only one who… finds these two a bit sweet together?]
[You must be starving for romance!]

Sheng Mingyue frowned slightly, struggling to ignore the black words floating overhead. Her heart thundered, and cold crept over her skin.

Everything that had happened today was far too strange, catching her completely off guard, leaving her with no time to prepare.

Where had those black words come from? And what else did they know…?

Inside the hall, Rong Yan’s face was dark as ink. He kept his gaze fixed on the shattered cup at his feet, but from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of that frail figure leaving the hall. A flash of venom flickered in his eyes.

In the palace corridor, the Prince of Jing’an’s carriage had been waiting for some time, as if knowing in advance that its master would not linger at the banquet.

Rong Zhao stood before the carriage, turned, and looked back at the woman behind him. “Benefactress, you’re injured. Ride with me.”

Sheng Mingyue glanced up at the carriage and shook her head repeatedly. “Your Highness, you are of noble birth. This servant would never dare overstep her bounds. It is proper that I follow on foot.”

Rong Zhao’s expression shifted. Clenching his fist to his lips, he struggled to suppress a cough before saying, “My health is poor and I need someone in the carriage to look after me. You’re a young woman—your hands are bound to be more attentive.”

The young attendant, Yun Lai, standing nearby, was dumbfounded. In just a few words, his master had made him recall every mistake he’d made in his life.

He hadn’t done anything wrong lately, had he? Was the prince displeased with his clumsy ways?

The Prince of Jing’an’s household was practically a monastery already, and not once had the prince suggested buying a few maids…

Sheng Mingyue could not refuse Rong Zhao’s words and could only nod. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Sheng Mingyue!”

A familiar, thunderous voice called out behind her, making her freeze, her back slick with cold sweat.

Seeing her reaction, Rong Zhao slowly raised his gaze and met Rong Yan’s eyes as the latter strode swiftly over.

Rong Yan hurried over, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He strode to Sheng Mingyue and seized her slender wrist, gritting his teeth. “I am your master. How dare you go off with someone else? Bold beyond belief!”

Sheng Mingyue winced in pain and looked up at him, her eyes devoid of their former warmth.

“Rong Yan, let go.”

Rong Zhao spoke lightly, his eyelids drooping, clearly not regarding the crown prince with any respect. “I am still here, and yet you behave so violently. To treat my savior this way—is it that you wish me dead?”

Rong Yan’s face shifted through several expressions before he reluctantly released her. “Ninth Uncle, your nephew was out of line. But this wretched maid is ungrateful, and I could not contain my anger.”

[Why is the male lead here?]
[The crown prince was just at the banquet, and the moment he saw the cannon fodder being taken away by the prince, he rushed after them!]
[The heroine is still waiting at the palace gates. Maybe the crown prince broke protocol to see her.]
[He flies off the handle at the slightest thing—honestly, isn’t this male lead a bit much?]
[I have to say, my heart aches for this little maid. Is a cannon fodder’s life worth nothing? She’s only guilty of loving too deeply—what crime is that?]

The black words in the air grew so noisy they blocked most of Sheng Mingyue’s view. No longer willing to endure, she faced Rong Yan directly. “Your Highness, your words make no sense. I am but a lowly servant. His Majesty, out of kindness, has allowed me to follow the prince. If you object, you could have spoken at the banquet—why come here now to make things difficult for me?”

“You!” Rong Yan glanced at the man behind her, then fixed her with a baleful stare, dragging her further from Rong Zhao and lowering his voice as much as possible. “You think that because you’ve found new backing, you can talk back now?”

“Sheng Mingyue, don’t forget—your little brother is only ten years old this year!”