"You won't be able to go to the Northwest," Leng Yi said, looking straight at Gu Ranran.
"Xiao Jiu, don't get upset. Blame it on Seventh Brother's big mouth," Leng Qi said, bracing himself. Since he was going to be in trouble whether he spoke up or not, he gave in to Leng Yi's pressure and recounted the whole story. "After you fainted yesterday, I was outside talking with Big Brother about sending you to the Northwest. Who would have thought the Prince was standing right behind us? Let me tell you, at that moment..."
While Leng Yi and Leng Qi were busy trying to convince Aran to abandon her plans for the Northwest, Chu Hengyuan had already finished the morning court session and returned to the Prince's Estate.
With his mind entirely occupied by Gu Ranran, Chu Hengyuan hurried straight to Chenyang Pavilion as soon as he stepped through the gates.
*Creak.* The bedroom door opened. Like a young man who had just discovered the stirrings of love, he smoothed his robes and walked toward the inner chamber, feeling a sense of trepidation.
Aran was not on the bed; only the indentation left by her body remained, still carrying the faint scent of her presence. Chu Hengyuan lay down, pressing his body against the spot where she had slept, inhaling deeply as he tried to catch her fragrance.
Back with Aran, Leng Qi was still trembling as he recalled the scene. "Xiao Jiu, you have no idea. The look the Prince gave me was like a blade. He stared at my neck, and I felt like my head was going to be severed the very next second."
"You finally know fear, do you? You’ll be the ruin of yourself because of that mouth," Leng Yi remarked. He, too, had felt like he was hovering on the edge of life and death that day. Damn Leng Qi—a fire at the city gates inevitably brings disaster to the fish in the moat.
"Big Brother, I know I was wrong. If I act like a fool again, punish me—make me haul the night soil," Leng Qi swore, raising his hand to the heavens.
Aran glared at Leng Qi. This "Seventh Brother" was a total menace. She puffed out her cheeks and glared, looking exactly like a little goldfish.
She was so frustrated, yet she knew her brothers hadn't done it on purpose. Now her plans for the Northwest were ruined. But what had Chu Hengyuan meant by that remark—"This prince will not marry Murong Qingyan"?
"Seventh Brother, I am angry with you," Aran said, standing up and walking toward the door. She just wanted to scare him; it was all his big mouth's fault.
"Xiao Jiu, scold me, hit me! I won't talk back or fight back!" But Aran didn't even look back.
"Big Brother, what do I do? Xiao Jiu is angry and won't talk to me!" Leng Qi pleaded for help, but Leng Yi just rolled his eyes, leaving him to figure it out himself.
What game was Chu Hengyuan playing? She couldn't figure him out at all. Aran returned to her room and threw herself onto the bed, limbs spread wide.
Before the southern tour, hadn't Chu Hengyuan promised to marry Murong Qingyan upon his return? What could have happened during the trip to change his mind? What was she supposed to do now?
Gu Ranran felt a wave of agitation. Should she pretend to be sick? That might buy her some time, but she couldn't hide forever. Forget it, she thought. If the soldiers come, meet them with shields; if the water rises, build a dam.
"Is Miss Ran here?" Grand Eunuch Bai’s voice drifted in from outside.
"I’m here," Aran said, opening the door. "Oh, Grand Eunuch Bai. Please, take a seat." She gestured toward the stone table in the courtyard.
"No, thank you, Miss," Grand Eunuch Bai said, addressing her with fawning politeness. "I am merely here to deliver a message from the Prince. He wishes for you to come to his study."
Chu Hengyuan wanted her in his study? Was he sober now and looking to settle scores?
"Do you happen to know why the Prince wants me, Eunuch?" Gu Ranran’s heart hammered in her chest.
"You will know once you arrive, Miss. I am just a messenger. The Prince's thoughts are not for the likes of us to guess. Please, this way." Grand Eunuch Bai bowed and made a gesture of invitation.
Gu Ranran had no choice but to walk forward. Every step felt like walking on knife-edges, as if she were heading toward an execution ground, as if this trip would lead to a final parting of ways.