The Little Prince Failed to Seduce and Got Hooked Instead - Chapter 1

The interior of Buckingham Palace was dazzlingly bright.

Shen Yanci stood amidst a crowd of tuxedo-clad dignitaries and socialites, champagne flute in hand. He felt somewhat like a black screw that had accidentally fallen into a jewelry box. All around him was the low hum of English conversation, punctuated by laughter and the crisp clinking of crystal glasses. The air was a heavy, suffocating blend of expensive perfume, cigars, and gourmet hors d’oeuvres.

He was here today representing the Shen Group. He had spent the last several hours haggling with British politicians over a brain-numbing new energy cooperation project. His face was nearly stiff from forced smiling; internally, he wanted nothing more than to end this tedious socializing, return to his hotel, tear off his tie, and settle comfortably into his documents.

Shen Yanci loosened his tie slightly and scanned the hall. It was a magnificent display of gold and opulence, truly grand. Yet, his heart remained unmoved. He was even starting to drift off, wondering if there was a hidden trap in the clauses they had just discussed.

Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden force crashed into his side.

“Oops!”

The glass in his hand wobbled violently. Half a glass of golden liquid was wasted, splashing entirely across the lapel of his meticulous black suit and leaving a glaringly dark stain.

Shen Yanci’s brows knitted instantly. He had a touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder and loathed unplanned chaos, especially the kind that left him feeling sticky. Suppressing his irritation, he looked up at the person who had bumped into him.

What he saw made him pause.

The culprit was a young man who was, exceptionally striking. He had slightly wavy, golden-brown hair and skin as white as fine porcelain. His eyes were a rare shade of light gray, like glass beads shrouded in mist, shimmering with a mix of cunning and apology. He wore a perfectly tailored white gala suit that accentuated his superb physique and regal aura.

Shen Yanci recognized this man. In fact, he had done his homework before arriving this was Arthur, the British Prince famous for his “beauty” and “occasional transgressions.” He had looked handsome enough in photos, but in person…

Well, he was radiant.

He was also quite clumsy.

“My deepest apologies!” Arthur spoke, his voice clear and carrying a perfectly measured note of regret. His expression was so innocent it was impossible to stay angry. “I am truly clumsy; I didn’t notice you behind me. Your suit…”

As he spoke, he naturally pulled a neatly folded silk handkerchief from his pocket. The cloth looked incredibly expensive, with a small crest embroidered on the corner.

“It is quite alright, Your Highness,” Shen Yanci replied tonelessly. He instinctively tried to take half a step back to handle it himself.

Arthur, however, was a step faster.

Acting as if he hadn’t heard Shen Que, or perhaps simply not caring about the refusal, Arthur stepped closer with the handkerchief and began “earnestly” wiping the wine stain from the man’s chest. His fingertips, separated only by the thin silk, landed on Shen Yanci’s suit.

Once. Twice.

The movements looked convincing enough, as if he were truly trying to salvage the situation. But Shen Yanci’s body suddenly stiffened.

Those fingertips, we’re not wiping the stain at all!

The movements were light and airy, more like a caress. They traced the contours of his chest muscles with a bold, ambiguous test. While the silk felt cool and smooth, the heat from the prince’s fingertips through the fabric was scorching.

Shen Yanci usually loathed the proximity of strangers, let alone such a touch. He instinctively tensed his muscles, his jawline tightening. An entirely unfamiliar sensation one of being offended yet mixed with a strange itch—surged from the point of contact, catching him off guard.

This Little Prince’s style of conduct was indeed just as the rumors suggested, entirely unconventional.

Shen Yanci snapped his eyes up, intending to use his gaze to stop this over-enthusiastic “kindness.” Consequently, he collided directly with Arthur’s looking eyes.

From a distance, the eyes had seemed light gray, but up close, Shen Yanci realized they were richly layered with subtle hints of blue-green, like the surface of the sea at dusk. At this moment, those beautiful eyes held no trace of apology or innocence. Instead, they were filled with unmasked interest and scrutiny and even a hint of…

A triumphant smile?

The gaze was direct, bold, and forward, as if it could pierce through his calm exterior to see the split-second of panic within.

The two were standing so close that the background noise of the gala seemed to have been muted. Shen Yanci could see the small shadow cast by Arthur’s eyelashes and smell a faint scent, something like grass after rain mixed with a cold, woody cologne.

Arthur’s fingers were still “wiping” his chest, his movements slowing down, the pressure of his fingertips becoming elusive. Shen Yanci’s heart, for no reason at all, gave a heavy thud.

This was a feeling of being completely out of his control. Having spent his life outmaneuvering others at the negotiation table, he had never encountered a scene like this. He had to summon every ounce of self-restraint to maintain his expressionless face, but his Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.

Arthur clearly caught this subtle reaction. The corner of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly, like a cat that had successfully stolen a treat. Only then did he seem to realize their proximity and took half a step back, though his eyes remained locked on Shen Yanci.

“It seems it won’t come out,” Arthur said. There was no real regret in his tone; rather, it sounded as if he had discovered something much more interesting. “I am truly sorry for ruining such a well-fitting suit.”

Shen Yanci finally found his voice, which was a few shades deeper than usual. “It is just a suit, Your Highness. Please do not dwell on it.”

He reached out and seemingly casually brushed aside Arthur’s hand, which was still hovering near his chest. The movement was subtle but carried an indisputable force.

Arthur withdrew his hand obediently, his fingertips curling as if savoring the firm texture he had just touched. He shook the wine-stained handkerchief and flashed a smile. “As compensation, allow me to cover the cleaning costs. Or… perhaps I could buy you a new one?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Shen Yanci’s refusal was crisp and final. He adjusted his lapel; the damp sensation was uncomfortable, but what made him more uneasy was that inexplicable heart-flutter from a moment ago. “Your Highness is too kind.”

He gave a slight nod, intending to end this unexpected and destabilizing conversation. “Excuse me.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the restroom. His back was straight and his pace steady the image of a calm, self-possessed business elite. It was as if that moment of stiffness and loss of composure had never happened.

Arthur stood in place, watching Shen Yanci’s retreating back. His smile slowly deepened, becoming playful. He looked down at the fingertips that had just touched the man, then slowly and meticulously folded the stained silk handkerchief, which seemed to still hold the other’s body heat—and tucked it back into his pocket.

His light gray eyes were brimming with interest.

“Shen Yanci…” he whispered the name, the syllables drawing out long and lingering. “More interesting than I imagined.”

Meanwhile, as Shen Yanci walked away, his mind was still replaying that scene—those smiling gray eyes and that elusive yet lingering touch on his chest.

He let out a quiet “tsk.”

It seemed this trip to the UK would not be as boring as he had anticipated.

What exactly is this Little Prince trying to do?