The Flirtatious Beauty Decides to Steal the Princess - Chapter 40

“Don’t worry, Mama. A’Ying has been doing well outside the palace. The noble ladies from prominent families have all been very kind to me.” Wen Ying’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, genuinely moved by the care she had received.

Yet, there were still corners of her heart reserved solely for Yun Chu and Mama Gu. So many joyful moments were things she wished only to share with them.

Now that she finally had the chance, the words caught in her throat as she gazed at Mama Gu’s slightly aged face, unable to speak.

Mama Gu, too, seemed at a loss for words. She reached out and patted Wen Ying’s hand, looking at her as if she were her own granddaughter.

At that very moment, Wen Yuan suddenly reappeared, standing ominously in the doorway as he watched the tender exchange between Wen Ying and Mama Gu.

“Elder Sister, please come with me.” Wen Yuan held a bloodstained sword in his hand. He hadn’t gone to the main hall, so it was unclear where the blood had come from but it was enough to intimidate.

Instinctively, Mama Gu stepped in front of Wen Ying, unwilling to let her out of her sight. Yet, if Wen Yuan were to lose control and kill them both here, no one would ever know.

Wen Ying squeezed Mama Gu’s hand and shook her head gently, signaling that she would be fine. But how could young Wen Ying have ever experienced something like this before?

Forced to steel herself, she rose and followed Wen Yuan. Seeing her approach, Wen Yuan summoned the last of his rationality and sheathed his blade, ensuring no crimson droplets fell.

Wen Ying trailed behind him in her slightly soiled embroidered shoes, struggling to keep up. He walked too fast, and she stumbled several times, nearly falling.

Noticing the commotion behind him, Wen Yuan turned to look at her. Though disheveled, Wen Ying refused to let him see her distress and forced a smile. “Wen Yuan, where exactly are you taking me?”

Her smile revealed small dimples, a sight that soothed the heart. Even Wen Yuan’s cold, rigid demeanor seemed to soften momentarily. Nervously, he pointed toward the main hall that was where he wanted to go.

And Wen Yuan knew that as long as he brought Wen Ying with him, he would be safe.

Wen Ying, recalling Wen Yuan’s obsessive ambition for the throne, could roughly guess his intentions. But she had no power to refuse.

She had no choice but to follow. Fortunately, Wen Yuan slowed his pace, glancing back occasionally to check on her.

Yet impatience gnawed at him. After a few more steps, he grabbed Wen Ying’s wrist and dragged her forward.

Her wrist reddened from his grip, tears welling in her almond-shaped eyes. But there was no one to stop Wen Yuan.

In an unnoticed corner, a figure clad in green watched the two, murderous intent radiating from their entire being. Their striking phoenix eyes fixed on Wen Yuan’s hand clutching Wen Ying’s wrist.

Mentally calculating.

Should it be deep-frying or death by a thousand cuts?

In the main hall, a fierce wind howled as dark clouds loomed overhead. Black crows circled in the sky, their shrill cries piercing the air.

Fu Qingyin arrived at the palace doors in a few swift strides, his venomous gaze locking onto the black-clad subordinates surrounding the tightly shut Hall of Diligent Governance.

“Emperor Wen, do you still remember me?”

That clear, cold voice fell upon Emperor Wen and his ministers like a death knell.

“It’s Fu Qingyin! That hostage!” Emperor Wen had already cowered behind a screen, surrounded by ministers trapped in the palace with no means of escape among them was Jiang Zhiyi’s father.

Now, they were all grasshoppers tied to the same string. Moreover, since Emperor Wen had not yet fallen from power, the remaining ministers still held onto hope and dared not show any disrespect.

Yet, one after another, they sighed, lamenting how disaster had arisen from such a minor hostage. Even if given another chance, none of them could fathom how Fu Qingyin had managed to turn the tables.

No one even knew how she had escaped.

Seeing that the grand hall remained eerily still, with only a handful of imperial guards stationed at the entrance, Fu Qingyin suddenly burst into laughter.

“Tyrant without restraint, how much longer can you cling to that throne? Why don’t you step outside and listen to the voices of your subjects? They’re all praying for you to burn in hell!” Her shrill, piercing laughter cut through the opulent hall, her words striking Emperor Wen’s ears with unmistakable clarity.

Emperor Wen’s eyes bulged with fury. He longed to charge out and stab Fu Qingyin to death, but he knew that if he did, it would be his own life forfeit.

So, he remained cowardly hidden behind the screen, frantically scheming for a way out.

Yet Fu Qingyin, leading thirty thousand troops in a relentless advance, had already cowed the imperial guards into submission.

“None of you move! The first to act will see Wen Ying dead!”

Just as the two forces reached a stalemate, two frail figures emerged from the shadows.

But that single voice made Fu Qingyin freeze in her tracks. She had never imagined that Wen Yuan, who had always seemed so devoted to his elder sister, would now press a dagger to her throat.

Wen Ying, so small and fragile, was held hostage beside Wen Yuan. The sharp blade had already left a red mark on her neck, and Fu Qingyin nearly lost her mind with anguish.

Her grip faltered, her sword clattering to the ground with a crisp ring.

“Prince Wen Yuan, I hadn’t even come for you yet, and here you deliver yourself to me?” Fu Qingyin spoke to him, but her gaze remained fixed on Wen Ying, unable to tear away.

Wen Yuan, sensing he was being disregarded, tightened his grip. A thin trickle of blood appeared on Wen Ying’s neck.

“STOP!!!” Fu Qingyin shrieked, ordering her men to halt any approach toward Wen Yuan. She had to keep him calm.

Emperor Wen, still lurking behind the screen, seized upon the sudden shift in the hall as his opportunity.

“Wen Ying,” The emperor had long abandoned his humanity. All he knew was that Wen Ying could restrain Fu Qingyin like finding her weakness. Ignoring his ministers’ protests, he stubbornly climbed out through a palace window, a gleaming golden dagger hidden in his sleeve.

His smug, despicable face twisted with malice as he crept toward the two, the dagger slipping into his hand.

Wen Yuan, locked in his standoff with Fu Qingyin, noticed nothing until something cold pierced through his abdomen. Stunned, he whirled around.

Fu Qingyin’s entire focus was on Wen Ying. Terrified that the deranged emperor would harm her, she lunged forward without hesitation.

Emperor Wen, intoxicated by the thrill of bloodshed, raised his blade now slick with warmth and thrust it toward Wen Ying.

She also witnessed the despair of the empress upon learning of Shen Qingning’s death. But in this moment, Ling Dai knew her mistress had finally achieved her heart’s desire.

“Mistress, may you and Miss Shen be together for eternity.” Ling Dai’s voice seemed to drift toward the underworld.

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