Chapter Thirty: The Crown Prince Assassinated

Overnight, Gu Wuyou’s name spread throughout the capital. Everyone had heard how Prince Chun cherished his wife, how he refused the marriage alliance with the most beautiful woman of Xiyuan for her sake, how he declared before the Emperor and all the officials that she would be his only wife in this lifetime. But most captivating was the enchanting melody she played; it seemed as if, in one night, all of the capital came to know Gu Wuyou—the woman who held Prince Chun’s unwavering affection.

Zhan Yan was sitting beneath the pear tree, basking in the sunlight. Hearing the rumors from outside, she couldn’t help but smile wryly. She had always preferred to keep a low profile, but marrying him meant such anonymity was no longer possible.

“What troubles you, Yan’er?” A gentle voice sounded—it was Zhongli Yu. He had just entered the courtyard and, from a distance, saw her faint smile, prompting him to ask.

“It’s nothing,” she replied.

“Is it really nothing? But I saw you smiling bitterly,” Zhongli Yu gently rubbed her forehead.

“I suppose it’s because I’ve suddenly become so famous. I’m not used to it,” Zhan Yan answered honestly. She had lived quietly for over ten years, and this abrupt change felt overwhelming.

“Who told my Yan’er to shine so brightly? Gold will always gleam, and it’s truly hard for you to remain unnoticed,” Zhongli Yu said indulgently. “The weather’s lovely today. Shall we go for a walk?” Wanting to distract her, he took her hand and led her toward the gate.

“All right,” Zhan Yan murmured softly.

“Qingxian, have someone bring my horse,” Zhongli Yu ordered in a low voice.

By the time they reached the gate, a splendid white horse was already waiting. When Zhongli Yu approached, the horse nuzzled his hand affectionately.

“Cloudrider!” Zhan Yan exclaimed in surprise. This was a rare and exceptional steed. She had long wished for such a horse but had never found one. She hadn’t expected Zhongli Yu to have one in his stable.

“Do you like this horse, Yan’er? Then it shall be yours from now on.” Seeing her eyes light up with delight, Zhongli Yu spoke tenderly.

Before Zhan Yan could reply, the horse protested first, neighing in displeasure and stamping its hooves.

“Do you dare have complaints?” Zhongli Yu’s voice turned stern as he shot the horse a fierce glare.

The horse shrank back, not daring to move, casting a pitiful, pleading look at Zhan Yan.

She had always heard Cloudrider was intelligent, and now she believed it. Watching Zhongli Yu interact with the horse made her want to laugh.

“If you follow me, I won’t treat you poorly. Don’t worry,” Zhan Yan stroked the horse’s head, her voice gentle.

Cloudrider eyed Zhongli Yu’s dark expression and dared not show more attitude. Instead, it obediently lowered its head and nudged Zhan Yan’s small hand, as if it no longer disliked her.

Zhongli Yu gently lifted Zhan Yan onto the horse’s back, then vaulted up himself, settling behind her. One hand held the reins, the other encircled her waist.

“Is this all right? Might it be improper?” Zhan Yan glanced back at him, thinking that customs here were still quite conservative.

“There’s nothing improper. You are my wife; who would dare say otherwise?” Zhongli Yu gave the horse a pat, signaling it to move forward. At his cue, Cloudrider bolted into a swift gallop, its speed extraordinary. In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they had covered dozens of miles.

When the horse finally stopped, they had arrived at Mandarin Duck Lake. The water was crystal clear, revealing smooth pebbles beneath the surface. Pairs of mandarin ducks played in the lake. Willows lined the shore, their long branches trailing toward the water. Beneath the trees were marble stones of every shape—round, square, oval—all polished clean by the wind.

Zhan Yan chose a large stone and sat down. The breeze brushed her face, and willow twigs gently swept across her coiffure. Zhongli Yu sat beside her, softly parting the willow branches for her.

The gentle wind brought a sense of utter contentment. Zhan Yan nestled into Zhongli Yu’s embrace, a feeling that reminded her of her student days, when she would see couples leaning into each other by the lakeside. She had never understood then why they spent every day together, never tiring of one another. Now she understood—being with someone you love is a wonderful thing.

Now, she too experienced this joy. This, she thought, must be what it feels like to be in love.

“Zhongli Yu, I feel as if we’re in love,” Zhan Yan couldn’t help but voice her thoughts.

“Oh? What does it mean to be in love?” Zhongli Yu asked, puzzled by the unfamiliar phrase.

“It means two people who like each other spend time together, sharing affection,” Zhan Yan explained as simply as she could.

“Do you like being in love, Yan’er?” Zhongli Yu’s voice was gentle, and he didn’t miss that she had said ‘two people who like each other,’ which pleased him greatly.

“Hehe, I suppose I do. I quite enjoy it,” Zhan Yan laughed softly. Having lived two lives, she was only now experiencing such feelings for the first time. It hadn’t come easily.

“If you like it, then let’s fall in love every day from now on,” Zhongli Yu said, his heart utterly softened by her happy expression.

Hearing this, Zhan Yan couldn’t help but laugh aloud. They were already married, yet he spoke of falling in love every day—perhaps her explanation hadn’t been quite right. But it didn’t matter. As long as they were happy. She smiled, her eyes curved with joy, and said brightly, “All right, let’s fall in love every day.”

Zhongli Yu’s arm tightened around her for a moment. She sensed something was amiss and listened intently. From five miles away came the distinct sounds of battle.

Zhongli Yu lifted Zhan Yan into his arms, his toes tapping lightly on the ground as he landed her securely on the horse’s back. With a command, Cloudrider sped toward the commotion. In moments, they arrived at the scene: a man in a deep red brocade robe was surrounded by dozens of black-clad assailants. It was none other than Yang Rui, crown prince of Xiyuan, his robe stained with blood—clearly wounded.

Zhongli Yu swiftly entered the fray, extricating the prince and bringing him to Zhan Yan before turning back to deal with the attackers. The black-clad men, seeing a new opponent, fought more fiercely, each move lethal, desperate to finish Zhongli Yu quickly. But against him, their defeat was inevitable.

Once the attackers were dispatched, Zhan Yan had already dressed Yang Rui’s wounds. He looked utterly spent, clearly having fought for some time.

“What happened? Last night you said you’d be entering the palace today to discuss diplomatic matters. How did you end up here?” Zhongli Yu was the first to speak.

“The king of Dongling’s chief attendant, Steward Lin, came to escort me to the palace. I thought nothing of it and boarded the carriage. But after half an hour, we still hadn’t arrived. That’s when I realized something was wrong—and the rest is what you see now,” Yang Rui replied weakly.

“And your personal guards?”

“They’ve likely already been killed,” Yang Rui said helplessly.