The Flirtatious Beauty Decides to Steal the Princess - Chapter 10

The long palace path seemed endless, with palace maids already lighting lanterns along the way, resembling floating river lanterns drifting beside an endless stream.

Wen Ying walked unhurriedly beneath her umbrella, her neatly coiled hair swaying slightly with each step, loose strands fluttering in the breeze. Fu Qingyin followed silently behind, like a guardian deity watching over her in quiet vigilance.

This area was particularly secluded, while the Eighth Prince’s palace was closest to the Hall of Diligent Governance naturally a lively and splendid district. Wen Ying kept her head down as she walked, unaware that her delicate embroidered shoes had already been soaked by the rain.

“Wait a moment.” It was the first time Fu Qingyin had spoken since they left. Wen Ying paused and turned back in confusion, looking at Fu Qingyin, who had stopped in place.

Fu Qingyin’s beautiful eyes flickered as she slowly knelt, extending her fair fingers to wipe away the speck of mud staining the tip of Wen Ying’s shoe.

The sudden gesture caught Wen Ying off guard. Fu Qingyin’s silken hair cascaded downward, nearly dipping into the rainwater. Instinctively, Wen Ying reached out to tuck back the unruly strand.

Though Fu Qingyin practiced martial arts, her hands were astonishingly delicate devoid of the calluses typical of warriors. Instead, they were soft and fair, the result of years of meticulous care. She had spent countless hours soaking them in floral-infused milk, nurturing them until they became as smooth as jade.

Wen Ying giggled with childlike innocence. “Beautiful sister, we look just like a scene from one of those romantic tales.”

Only after saying this did she recall the nature of those romantic stories, and her expression immediately stiffened. She turned away, avoiding Fu Qingyin’s gaze as the woman straightened up, yet the faint fragrance of Fu Qingyin’s presence lingered in the air.

“Thank you, little Wen Ying, for going to such lengths for me.” Fu Qingyin lowered her head. She truly hadn’t expected a princess, sheltered since childhood, to extend such help to a hostage from an enemy nation.

At these words, Wen Ying’s awkwardness melted into pride. She patted her chest, her almond-shaped eyes brimming with boldness. “Wen Ying fears death, but she fears her friends suffering even more.”

Fu Qingyin’s heart stirred. Hearing this, she understood.

Perhaps it was precisely because Wen Ying treated her friends with such sincerity that Xiao Tang from the imperial kitchens had been willing to help her and become such a close companion.

Once they neared the imperial gardens, the Eighth Prince’s palace was not far. Having walked for so long, Wen Ying was genuinely tired. She pulled Fu Qingyin into a pavilion to take shelter from the rain, briefly folding the oil-paper umbrella.

The rain showed no sign of letting up, still forming a curtain of droplets as before. Wen Ying leaned against a stone pillar, stretching out a hand to catch the falling rain. Tiny crystalline droplets pooled in her palm, gathering into a small puddle.

Fu Qingyin, however, did not share Wen Ying’s lighthearted mood. Everything in this kingdom, save for Wen Ying, filled her with disgust.

No matter how pure the rain, it could never wash away Emperor Wen’s sins. A cold gust of wind swept through, carrying scattered raindrops toward Wen Ying. Unprepared, she shivered. Fu Qingyin quickly pushed aside her thoughts and stepped closer, draping her own outer robe over Wen Ying’s shoulders.

“Don’t stand so close to the edge; move further in. The cold is harsh on rainy days, and catching a chill means you’ll have to drink very, very bitter medicine.” Fu Qingyin had thought this would scare Wen Ying, but to her surprise, Wen Ying shook her head, recalling those unbearable winters when having a bowl of medicine would have been a blessing.

As they were talking, someone suddenly appeared outside the pavilion, walking alone in the rain. Fu Qingyin, trained in martial arts and always alert to external sounds, immediately raised her head and shielded Wen Ying behind her.

Wen Ying also looked up and noticed the figure seemed familiar. When the person approached a palace lantern, she finally saw clearly, it was indeed the Eighth Prince, Wen Yuan.

Gritting her teeth, Wen Ying stepped directly into the rain, holding the oil-paper umbrella as she walked out. Fu Qingyin reached out to stop her, but her hand hovered mid-air as she watched Wen Ying slowly walk away.

At that moment, Fu Qingyin felt something shift in her heart. She wanted to keep Wen Ying by her side at all times, to watch over her constantly.

“Imperial… Imperial Brother?” Wen Ying’s voice was soft, not the least bit intimidating even on such a stormy night. Wen Yuan, annoyed by the rain, looked up to see who had stopped the downpour above him.

But when he recognized Wen Ying, all his scolding words died in his throat. Instead, the young prince looked embarrassed. He was about to ask which palace Wen Ying was from when he noticed the fear on her face.

“It’s really you… I-I-I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Though Wen Ying’s acting was clumsy, it was more than enough to fool Wen Yuan. Puzzled, he asked, “Why are you so afraid of me? Do I look scary?”

Wen Ying continued holding the umbrella, her lovely, damp almond eyes blinking as if she had deliberated for a long time before speaking. “Before… before Bai Zhi passed away, she kept saying the Eighth Prince had a volatile temper, that all the best food had to be given to him, or else he’d report to His Majesty and have us killed.”

Her pale face made the story seem highly credible. Fu Qingyin, sitting under the pavilion, propped her chin on her hand, watching how Wen Ying would convince Wen Yuan to drop the matter.

Wen Yuan’s face, already unremarkable, turned red then green with anger. This was the first time he had met such a beautiful imperial sister, yet his reputation had already been ruined by that maid Bai Zhi.

Seeing his anger, Wen Ying decided to fan the flames further. “Now the whole palace is buzzing, saying His Majesty and the Noble Consort are going to kill the newly arrived hostage princess for Bai Zhi’s sake!”

Though younger than Wen Ying, Wen Yuan was well aware of the ongoing tensions in the war. He had never approved of escalating the conflict, and now he learned Bai Zhi had been tarnishing his name outside.

Wen Yuan did have a temper, and at that moment, he wanted to rush to the Emperor’s study to demand Bai Zhi be punished. But before leaving, he suppressed his anger and thanked Wen Ying.

He didn’t bother asking which palace Wen Ying was from his mind was too consumed by rage. Besides, Wen Ying hadn’t lied; Bai Zhi had indeed used the Eighth Prince’s name to bully others.

Now, saying this wouldn’t be entirely unfair to her, but as Wen Ying watched the Eighth Prince’s retreating figure, she couldn’t help but feel that her younger brother had truly been led astray by Bai Zhi. He had once been such an open and bright person, how had he ended up with such a notorious reputation under the influence of that cunning servant?

After hesitating for a moment, Wen Ying still chased after him and thrust the oil-paper umbrella into Wen Yuan’s hands. Ignoring his surprised look, she turned and walked away without another word.

She really didn’t want to get soaked, so she quickly ran into a small pavilion.

Fu Qingyin, unable to ignore the sour feeling in her chest, immediately stood up to help Wen Ying remove the cloak she had just draped over her. Leaning in close, her warm breath brushed against Wen Ying’s ear as she murmured, “Little Wen Ying, why are you so considerate toward him?”

The words carried an unintended hint of jealousy that even Fu Qingyin herself hadn’t noticed. Wen Ying, flustered by her teasing, stumbled backward only to forget there were steps behind her.

Just as she was about to fall, Fu Qingyin reached out effortlessly, catching her hand and pulling her straight into her embrace.

The motion didn’t strictly require such closeness, but Fu Qingyin simply wanted to hold the soft, delicate Wen Ying in her arms.

Wen Ying had tightly shut her eyes, bracing for the impact of the rain-soaked ground, only to find herself enveloped in a warm embrace the next second.

“Beautiful Sister…” Wen Ying felt her eyes grow moist whether from finally being able to help Fu Qingyin or from narrowly avoiding the fall, she wasn’t sure.

But the way she called out “sister” in that tearful voice made Fu Qingyin’s ears burn red. So, little Wen Ying hasn’t read that book after all, Fu Qingyin thought to herself. She doesn’t know just how enticing the word “sister” can be to someone who loves women.

But when she met Wen Ying’s innocent, dewy almond eyes, Fu Qingyin barely managed to suppress the urge to tease her further. Instead, she simply guided Wen Ying to sit on the bench, her sharp gaze fixed on her. “You gave him the oil-paper umbrella, how are we supposed to leave now?”

Snapping out of her daze, Wen Ying blinked sheepishly before deploying her most reliable tactic tugging lightly at Fu Qingyin’s sleeve and flashing an impeccable, coquettish smile.

“Beautiful Sister, Wen Ying knows she was wrong.”

And of course, Fu Qingyin was helpless against it. She withdrew her scrutinizing gaze and sighed, ruffling Wen Ying’s hair. “Fine. Then we’ll wait here until the rain stops before heading back.”

The pavilion was drafty from all sides, but Fu Qingyin didn’t dare risk taking Wen Ying out in the downpour, so the two of them remained trapped inside.

Before long, Wen Ying’s head began to droop against Fu Qingyin’s shoulder, her exhaustion evident.

Fu Qingyin gently patted her back to lull her to sleep. Though the pavilion was exposed to the wind, at least it kept them dry. Better than braving the storm now, she thought, pulling Wen Ying closer to shield her from the chill.

The rain that night was relentless. All around, the sprawling plants of the imperial garden bent under the assault of the downpour trimmed to beauty by the palace gardeners, yet resilient enough to yield without breaking.

Occasionally, palace maids came by to replenish the lanterns, but there was only one oil-paper umbrella to be had. Fu Qingyin didn’t dare call out after all, she was supposed to be “confined” in Hanguang Palace.

So, they waited and waited. The rain showed no sign of letting up.

Until, through the curtain of rain, a figure emerged.

Fu Qingyin took a closer look and saw that it was Wen Yuan from earlier, returning to deliver umbrellas. He held two in his hands, one was Wen Ying’s plain, simple white umbrella, while the other was adorned with tassels and pearls. Wen Yuan intended to give the more elegant one to Wen Ying.

But Fu Qingyin refused to comply. She spoke coolly, “Thank you, Eighth Prince, for delivering the umbrella to Her Highness. I shall accept it on her behalf. As for the one so lavishly decorated, this humble servant dare not presume to receive it for my mistress.”

Though she addressed herself as a servant, Wen Yuan couldn’t help but feel that this palace maid carried herself with an air of arrogance.

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