The Flirtatious Beauty Decides to Steal the Princess - Chapter 3

The long-neglected wooden door creaked as Wen Ying pushed it open, revealing the dimly lit main hall of Hanguang Palace.

“Sangzhi, I don’t want to eat. You may leave.” A voice as clear and cold as shattered jade rang out. The palace maid who had just opened the door must have been Sangzhi.

Wen Ying lifted her gaze toward the source of the voice and, as expected, spotted a slightly worn screen behind which lay a bed.

On the bed reclined a woman with a graceful figure. Though obscured by the screen, the faint silhouette alone was enough to stir longing in one’s heart.

But Wen Ying quickly snapped out of it, hurriedly averting her eyes, the tips of her ears turning red. “I’m not Miss Sangzhi.”

Wen Ying’s voice was far too distinctive. Fu Qingyin sat up, casually pulling a green outer robe from the rack beside the bed and draping it over herself. Beneath it was a plain white dress, unadorned with any patterns just an extra layer over her undergarments.

The green robe hung loosely over her, its sash untied, as she stepped out from behind the screen. Wen Ying, still in her simple dress, stood frozen in place, her small head bowed, unsure where to look.

Fu Qingyin couldn’t help but laugh. Why was Wen Ying’s reaction so adorable? Her bare feet touched the slightly cool floor as she slowly walked over to Wen Ying.

“Princess Wen Ying? Have you had breakfast yet?” Fu Qingyin took Wen Ying’s small hand in hers, her every word laced with an innate allure. But little Wen Ying, oblivious to such charms, only felt her ears burn, though she didn’t understand why.

Wen Ying shook her head. As an unfavored princess who lived worse off than even the palace maids, a single full meal a day was already a luxury.

How could she possibly have breakfast?

The smile at the corners of Fu Qingyin’s eyes faded as Wen Ying shook her head. She reached out and touched Wen Ying’s waist so slender it could barely be grasped, the rest of her body gaunt, without an ounce of extra flesh.

Fu Qingyin’s playful teasing was replaced by a pang of pity. But Wen Ying was the daughter of her enemy should she really feel sorry for her?

Wen Ying.

Hearing her master call, Sangzhi immediately pushed the door open and entered, only to find Fu Qingyin’s robes still disheveled. As a servant, she dared not approach too closely and stood by the door, awaiting further instructions.

“Prepare two servings of breakfast and bring them to the main hall.”

“Ah??? So you actually get meals.” Wen Ying froze in place, but then reconsidered it made sense. Though he was a hostage relegated to this dilapidated palace, they wouldn’t deny him food.

After all, no matter the circumstances, he was still a prince. His country was still struggling, and Emperor Wen hadn’t been able to conquer it outright, needing it as leverage against other nations.

As long as that remained the case, Fu Qingyin couldn’t be allowed to starve to death in the palace.

Overjoyed, Sangzhi rushed off to the imperial kitchens. Ever since her master had arrived at the Great Wen palace, he had been despondent, even refusing food at times, as if seeking death.

But now, after meeting this princess, things seemed different.

Watching Sangzhi run off, Wen Ying’s anxious heart settled slightly. She walked over to Fu Qingyin and, with a mysterious air, pulled out several storybooks from the bundle of outer robes she had been clutching.

Fu Qingyin had been curious about what was inside Wen Ying’s bundle, and now that she had eagerly opened it herself, he finally saw.

One of the books was titled The Legendary Life of a Princess.

Fu Qingyin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He picked up one volume, the first half. There were no illustrations, but the handwriting was delicate and refined, clearly copied by hand. He lifted his gaze to Wen Ying.

Feeling the scrutiny in his eyes, Wen Ying explained sheepishly, “I secretly found these storybooks in the library and copied them to keep for myself. I returned the originals.”

Wen Ying rarely kept original books in her possession unless the library staff confirmed they were no longer needed.

Yunchu wouldn’t let her do menial work for money, and with the days stretching endlessly, Wen Ying had taken to copying books to practice her handwriting.

At first, her writing had been crooked and barely legible more like tracing characters than writing them. But over time, it had improved.

As a child, Yunchu had occasionally taught Wen Ying to read, though only the basics. Later, whenever she encountered unfamiliar words in books, she would ask around.

While the imperial consorts looked down on her, the palace maids found Wen Ying endearing and were willing to help her.

But beyond that, there was little else they could do.

Fu Qingyin nodded, impressed by the neat handwriting. It was pleasing to the eye, and there were even some annotations Wen Ying had added herself.

How adorable she even annotates storybooks. Fu Qingyin couldn’t suppress a smile. Wen Ying, mistaking his amusement for interest in the content, grinned in return, pleased that her books had proven useful.

“Keep these for now, I have more where they came from!” Wen Ying planted her hands on her hips, her plain white dress wrinkling slightly with the movement. Fu Qingyin reached out to smooth the fabric for her.

The gesture left Wen Ying momentarily flustered. She had often hidden behind rockeries, watching consorts play with their own children, adjusting their clothes when they were rumpled, asking if they were warm enough.

Those who had never experienced such care would never understand the emotions stirred by such small gestures.

Fu Qingyin noticed Wen Ying’s sudden pause. She lifted her head, her strikingly beautiful eyes devoid of any emotion, yet the sheer intensity of her gaze was enough to make Wen Ying blush.

Wen Ying didn’t understand what was happening to her. Whenever Fu Qingyin fixed her with that earnest stare, it felt like flames licking at her skin, burning her with an inexplicable heat.

Her cheeks flushed involuntarily, a sensation Wen Ying had never experienced before. Even the daze she had been in moments ago was forgotten entirely.

“Little Wen Ying, why are you so easily flustered?” Fu Qingyin lowered her hand, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Wen Ying’s shy expression.

Wen Ying turned away without answering she had no explanation to give. But the moment she turned, she saw Sang Zhi being shoved toward the entrance of Hanguang Palace by a group of palace maids in pink dresses.

“Elder Sister, look what’s this?” Wen Ying’s face paled instantly. She recognized the leader of those maids, Bai Zhi, the personal attendant of the Eighth Prince.

The Eighth Prince, Wen Yuan, was the son of the currently favored Noble Consort Xin. At just nine years old, he was already notorious for his arrogance and mischief throughout the palace.

Yet no one dared to report his misdeeds, and any trouble he caused was swiftly swept under the rug. Thus, his reputation as the “Little Tyrant” had long been whispered about in secret.

“A mere palace maid of a hostage princess dares to snatch pastries meant for His Highness the Eighth Prince?” Bai Zhi’s voice rose several pitches, sharp and grating.

Wen Ying detested her. If not for Bai Zhi’s constant instigation, the Eighth Prince wouldn’t have grown into such a spoiled brat.

Fu Qingyin stood up, smoothing out her outer robe with practiced elegance before lifting her chin proudly and stepping outside the palace gates.

“What is all this commotion?” Her voice was detached, devoid of emotion, the kind of tone that naturally commanded submission, honed by years of authority.

It suddenly struck Wen Ying, Fu Qingyin must have been a beloved princess in her own country. Her mother was the empress!

Wen Ying wanted to step forward but shrank back at Fu Qingyin’s warning glance.

Yun Chu didn’t even know she was at Hanguang Palace yet, and Bai Zhi was a notoriously vicious troublemaker. Staying inside was the safest option for Wen Ying at least she wouldn’t get burned by the flames.

“Oh? A mere hostage princess dares to put on airs now? Your maid had the audacity to take pastries meant for His Highness the Eighth Prince from the imperial kitchens such disrespect! What punishment does she deserve?”

Bai Zhi’s domineering tone made her sound less like a maid and more like a long-standing mistress. Wen Ying, hiding behind the door, curled her lip in disdain.

In the Eighth Prince’s palace, Bai Zhi ruled with an iron fist. She only showed deference in front of the Eighth Prince, the emperor, or Noble Consort Xin.

Fu Qingyin was unaware of these dynamics, but she was fair-minded. Her gaze shifted to Sang Zhi, who immediately cried out in protest:

“At last night’s banquet, His Majesty explicitly stated that our princess’s meals and pastries were to be the same as the other princesses five dishes and two servings of pastries! Today, only this one was left in the kitchens. The servants said all the rest had been sent to the Eighth Prince’s palace!”

With those words, Fu Qingyin understood the situation perfectly. A faint smile curved her lips as she stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and Bai Zhi.

Fu Qingyin was truly tall. Wen Ying peered out through the crack in the door. The palace maids had strict height and figure requirements they absolutely couldn’t be short. Yet, Fu Qingyin stood before Bai Zhi, towering a full head above her.

No wonder Fu Qingyin could effortlessly pinch her cheeks even while sitting. Wen Ying reached up to rub her face, then anxiously continued to watch the scene outside.

“You, what do you think you’re doing!” Bai Zhi stumbled backward, only finding support when she bumped into a maid behind her. “A mere hostage dares to ask for five dishes? Dream on! Everything must be prioritized for our Qinghua Palace first!”

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