Volume One, Chapter Eight: Means of Self-Preservation

The man sat in his wheelchair with a cold, noble air, his dark robes trailing upon the floor. Despite his languid posture, he emanated an inherent, overbearing arrogance from the very marrow of his bones, as if nothing in this world were worthy of his regard.

Song Shuche froze upon seeing his face. Prince Su? Why was Prince Su here? His expression darkened, unable to fathom the purpose or significance of Xiao Xingyu’s sudden appearance.

Xiao Xingyu, however, remained indifferent. He merely arched a brow, glancing at the dagger that had nearly pierced through the back of Song Shuche’s hand. "My apologies," he said airily. "My hand slipped. I trust the members of the Marquis of Jing'an’s estate won't mind, will they?"

Xiao Xingyu was the Grim Reaper of the Great Yong Dynasty, a man whom no one dared to provoke. Though confined to a wheelchair, he was universally recognized as a figure to be feared. Even though his words were light, who would dare to claim they minded?

Seeing that Song Shuche did not respond, Xiao Xingyu was not annoyed. He asked with feigned nonchalance, "What is this, Third Young Master Song? Are you holding onto my dagger because you have taken a liking to it? If so, I wouldn't mind gifting you another."

The manner of such a gift, however, would depend entirely on his mood. Fearing that Xiao Xingyu might send another throwing knife into a different part of his body, Song Shuche swallowed his indignation. He carefully pulled the blade from his hand and, dripping blood, bowed as he returned it to the prince.

"Your Highness, your property."

Xiao Xingyu glanced at it and let out a soft, disdainful sigh. "It’s stained."

The contempt in his voice sent a surge of fury straight to Song Shuche’s head. He was a legitimate son of the Marquis of Jing'an’s estate; how dare this cripple, royal blood or not, humiliate him so?

Song Shuche wanted to lash out, but he lacked the strength to do so. He could only stand there, lips pressed thin, feeling like a pathetic clown.

Xiao Xingyu ignored him, turning his gaze past Song Shuyan to Lady Chen, the Matriarch of the Song family. "Is this how the Song family treats a hero of the Great Yong Dynasty? Are you dissatisfied with the Imperial Court?" His lips curled into a smile. "I personally rescued the Song family’s daughter from the Rongdi. Does the Lady of the house find my efforts displeasing, perhaps wishing she had died there instead?"

His smile was like a snow lotus blooming amidst the frost, leaving Song Mingzhu, who stood beside Lady Chen, momentarily spellbound. As a sheltered lady, she had rarely encountered Xiao Xingyu, knowing only the rumors of his terrifying reputation. Now, she looked at him with the bashful gaze of a young girl in love.

She felt a pang of jealousy as she looked toward Song Qinghuan. Why was it that Song Qinghuan could know such a man, and even have Prince Su visit in person to champion her cause?

Song Mingzhu gritted her teeth, lifted her skirts, and stepped forward. With a smile she deemed charming and appropriate, she said, "Your Highness, you have misunderstood. Mother and Third Brother do not wish for Sister Qinghuan to be away; it is just that some of her actions have angered the family... Why don't I apologize to Third Brother and Mother on her behalf? We are all family, and we should live in harmony. Your Highness..."

"Slap!"

"Ugh!"

Before Song Mingzhu could finish, one of the shadow guards at Xiao Xingyu’s side struck her across the face. She trembled in shock, looking at Xiao Xingyu, unable to comprehend what she had done wrong.

The prince rested his head on one hand. Against his dark attire, his skin looked deathly pale, and his eyes were like cold, abyssal pools—to fall into them was to be swallowed by a vortex of darkness. He peered down at her, making no effort to hide his disdain. "What status do you hold that you think yourself worthy to speak to me?"

Song Mingzhu froze. Did he really think she wasn't even fit to speak to him?

Seeing the hurt and tears in Song Mingzhu’s eyes, Song Shuche felt a surge of anguish, but because the perpetrator was Xiao Xingyu—a mountain he could never hope to move—he could only stand by and wait in silence.

Satisfied that no one dared to raise further objections, Xiao Xingyu prepared to leave. Song Qinghuan rose to see him out.

"Prince Su, did you come to the Marquis's estate specifically to support me?" she asked, voicing her confusion plainly. By all logic, they should have had little connection.

The man’s features were handsome, familiar. Song Qinghuan hesitated before asking, "Your Highness, have we met before?"

Xiao Xingyu did not answer. Before turning to leave, he said languidly, "I am not helping you; I am helping the Imperial House of Great Yong. The behavior of the Song family is an affront to the dignity of the throne."

So, it had nothing to do with her.

Song Qinghuan stood dazed for a moment, then stopped pondering his words and turned to leave. As she stepped outside, she saw two familiar figures standing together.