Chapter 22

After Yang Wen Xu left, Lan Yi’s health improved day by day.  

It was as if a festering sore had been excised from her body, fresh flesh growing in its place. Her once-pale, gaunt face gradually regained color, becoming fairer and slightly fuller.  

Cui Cui styled her hair into a neat bun, while Ling Zi tucked a fragrant, half-bloomed flower by her temple.  

“Madam, you’ve come back to life,” Cui Cui said, her eyes glistening with tears.  

For a long time, she had been shrouded in the shadow of death, fearing that one day she would wake up and no longer feel the warmth of Lan Yi’s hand. The dread had been deep, yet there was nothing she could do.  

Lan Yi nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, it’s time we took our leave.”  

She wondered what price she would have to pay before departing.  

She had stayed at Prince Yi’s Residence for over half a month now—nearly a month and a half in total. Yet she still couldn’t leave the courtyard, couldn’t meet outsiders, and had no news of the outside world. The flower-filled courtyard was like a secluded paradise, but just as flowers must eventually wither, she knew the truth—this place was a cage.  

She was imprisoned here, cut off from the world.  

She asked Jian Su, “I wish to bid farewell. How may I repay His Highness?”  

Having grown somewhat familiar with her, Jian Su no longer responded with the same guarded caution as before. “Madam, is it not pleasant staying here?”  

Lan Yi smiled. “It is.”  

But even the most splendid garden is not a place to linger forever.  

A cage made of gold and jade is still a cage.  

She couldn’t remain trapped here indefinitely.  

Politely, she asked, “How long does His Highness intend to keep me confined?”  

Jian Su’s expression shifted. “His Highness has no such intention. You misunderstand, Madam.”  

Cui Cui chimed in, “Then when can we leave? Staying cooped up here for so long would make even a healthy person sick.”  

Ling Zi nodded vigorously beside her. Young and lively, she had once loved running errands all over, but now, confined for so long, she had grown listless.  

“…This servant will inquire with His Highness.”  

After Jian Su left, Cui Cui grew restless. “Madam, shall we take this chance to go out and look around?”  

Lan Yi hesitated briefly before agreeing.  

It wasn’t that she lacked caution—she had long restrained her maids from defying Prince Yi’s command to avoid trouble. But even patience had its limits. If even she felt stifled, how much more so her young, energetic maids?  

“Let’s just walk to the gate.”  

Cui Cui agreed. She knew they couldn’t go far, but even a brief step beyond the courtyard for fresh air would be a relief.  

Ling Zi skipped ahead excitedly, leading the way as if on an adventure.  

The gate wasn’t locked—it opened with a push.  

But guards stood about twenty paces away. Lan Yi had noted this during her single trip outside to meet Yang Wen Xu.  

Thus, their exploration was limited to just a few steps beyond the gate.  

Cui Cui ventured a little farther in that direction, only for two stern, sword-bearing guards to turn their heads expressionlessly, radiating silent intimidation.  

“It’s you!”  

Instead of fear, Cui Cui brightened and stepped closer. She recognized one of the guards—Meng San.  

Meng San kept a stern face. “Go back.”  

“Are you guarding prisoners here? I’m no thief,” Cui Cui grumbled.  

In this unfamiliar and perilous place, Meng San was at least a familiar face. Unfazed, she stood her ground. “I won’t interfere with your duties. I’m just looking around.”  

Even as she spoke, she couldn’t help rising on her tiptoes, peering into the distance.

Outside, a group of people was approaching.

Cui Cui took a closer look and realized it wasn’t Prince Yi. As the figures drew nearer, the one at the center, surrounded by attendants, was a lavishly dressed child about ten years old.

Meng San noticed as well and repeated more firmly, “Go back.”

But it was too late. The child suddenly dashed forward, shouting, “Stop!”

“Young Master, slow down! Be careful not to fall!”

The servants behind him hurriedly followed.

Meng San and another guard blocked their path.

The Little Prince glared up at the two men but didn’t force his way through. Instead, he pointed at Lan Yi. “Hey, you—come here. Are you the new consort my father took in?”

Lan Yi had been about to retreat with her maids when his words gave her pause.

She didn’t take it seriously. Children often spoke without thinking, and misunderstandings from overhearing fragments of conversation were common.

After a polite bow, she shook her head. “No. This commoner begs leave to withdraw.”

The Little Prince stared intently at her. “You’re lying. It’s you.”

Cui Cui grew indignant. “Even if you’re the Little Prince, you can’t slander my lady’s reputation. We’ll be leaving in a couple of days—it’s nothing like what you said.”

The Little Prince hesitated, then turned to glance at a maid behind him.

The maid, around twenty-three or twenty-four with almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks, crouched down and whispered something in his ear. After hearing it, the Little Prince snorted coldly. “Fine! Still pretending, thinking you can fool me because I’m young?”

He glared at Meng San. “Meng Qi, tell me—is she my father’s new consort?”

Cui Cui also looked at Meng San, hoping he’d speak fairly.

“…” Meng San gazed skyward. “This subordinate doesn’t know. I’m only following orders to stand guard.”

Lan Yi frowned.

Meng San’s reaction was odd.

Denying the Little Prince’s misunderstanding would have been effortless and wouldn’t involve any confidential secrets. Why give such an evasive answer?

The Little Prince was equally displeased. “Stop pretending! Father’s been having people set up the incense altar since morning. The Imperial Edict is about to arrive, and you’re all still hiding it from me—even Father won’t see me—”

His eyes widened, glistening with tears. “I don’t want a stepmother! Who is she to marry my father?”

“Young Master, don’t cry,” the maid behind him soothed, crouching to gently wipe his tears with a handkerchief. “She wouldn’t be your stepmother. A consort is just a concubine, a side wife. Your mother was the late Princess Consort—no one could ever compare to her. By lowering yourself like this, you’re only making others smug and giving them undue importance.”

As she spoke, her sidelong glance flicked toward Lan Yi, who met her gaze.

Lan Yi could sense the malice radiating from her, but that wasn’t important.

What mattered was the information revealed in her exchange with the Little Prince.

What—did that mean?

It was too absurd and shocking. Lan Yi felt a wave of dizziness.

“Madam,” Cui Cui said, quickly supporting her. “Don’t listen to their nonsense. This is ridiculous.”

She didn’t believe a word of it and remained composed.

But Lan Yi knew there had been signs.

Starting from when Meng San rescued her on the street—it had been too timely. A moment later, and the poison would have spread through her body, leaving no chance of survival. Why had he arrived just then?

At that time, Prince Yi’s Residence had conducted a city-wide search, apprehending all suspicious individuals. After this extensive operation, no further disturbances arose, indicating the true culprit had been captured. So why was the Yang family still under such stringent surveillance?

Not only had Prince Yi saved her, but he also intervened in her separation from Yang Wenxu. What necessity was there in that?

She was no longer naive. Seeds of vigilance had long been planted in her heart as she awaited the moment to confront Prince Yi. To prepare, she stayed longer—both to recuperate for negotiations and to discern Prince Yi’s intentions, hoping to gain some leverage.

But she truly hadn’t anticipated this most improbable possibility becoming reality.

“Little Prince, please return. His Highness will be displeased if he finds out,” Meng San advised.

He did not refute the beautiful maidservant’s implication.

Lan Yi’s heart grew colder.

She realized she had overestimated herself, thinking negotiations were still possible. But Prince Yi was no Yang Wenxu—his status was far loftier, his demeanor far more ruthless. He had no intention of giving her a chance to speak!

Meng San’s persuasion had the opposite effect, provoking the Little Prince instead: “I haven’t done anything wrong! Why would Father be angry? Is merely looking at the new lady considered an offense?—If you want to report me, go ahead!”

The last remark was directed at Lan Yi.

Lan Yi replied, “I won’t. Little Prince, what did you mean earlier about the Imperial Edict?”

She kept her tone calm, as if asking an ordinary question.

But the Little Prince had a fiery temper, and this question only incensed him further: “Stop pretending! Do you think it’s so grand that Father requested an Imperial Edict for you? You’re not even as beautiful as Aunt Liu Mei—let’s see how long your arrogance lasts!”

“Little Prince, don’t say such things,” the maidservant behind him blushed slightly, smoothing her hair. “How could a lowly servant compare to the new lady?”

Cui Cui couldn’t hold back, disliking the woman’s demeanor. She retorted, “Indeed, there’s no comparison.”

Only after speaking did she realize her mistake—this inadvertently acknowledged Lan Yi as the new lady. Before she could correct herself, the Little Prince’s face darkened: “Who do you think you are? How dare you speak of Aunt Liu Mei like that!”

He tried to charge forward with his entourage, but the guards blocked them again. The Little Prince shouted, “This insolent maid disrespected Aunt Liu Mei! Am I not even allowed to discipline her?”

Meng San hesitated but stood firm: “His Highness has ordered that no one may cross this line. Little Prince, if you obtain his written permission, I will naturally let you pass.”

“You keep using Father to suppress me—just like this woman!” The Little Prince grew even angrier. “I’m going in! Let’s see how you stop me!”

He barged forward defiantly. The guards couldn’t harm him, nor could they manhandle him without compromising his dignity. Amid the chaos, a cold, stern voice cut through: “What is going on here?”

Prince Yi had arrived.

He came alone, his steps swift and silent, unnoticed in the commotion.

An immediate hush fell over the scene.

Servants dropped to their knees. Only the Little Prince and Lan Yi remained standing.

After a stiff pause, the Little Prince bowed: “Father.”

“Who permitted you to come here?” Prince Yi’s tone was icy. “Return. Ten additional days of confinement.”

The Little Prince jerked his head up, aggrieved: “Why more confinement? I just got out!”

“You’ve caused trouble the moment you were free,” Prince Yi showed no mercy. “Ten more pages of large-character calligraphy.”

“…”

The Little Prince walked quickly. He had no choice but to hurry—unless he wanted to write another twenty or thirty pages of large character calligraphy.

Lan Yi remained standing.

She didn’t bow, but Prince Yi didn’t seem to mind. He strode past the guards and into the residence, only glancing at her as they passed each other.

His gaze silently yet unmistakably urged her to follow.

“…” Lan Yi muttered to herself, “When in Rome,” and trailed after him.

**

Prince Yi took a seat in the hall.

Neither Cui Cui nor Ling Zi entered; they were held back by Jian Su outside the door.

Lan Yi couldn’t afford to dwell on that. She urgently needed answers and spoke up, “The Little Prince said some things earlier that I didn’t understand. I’d like Your Highness to clarify.”

Prince Yi didn’t beat around the bush. “About me taking you in as my concubine?”

Lan Yi’s face flushed instantly.

Hearing such words from the Little Prince versus Prince Yi himself had entirely different effects. Even if it were a lie, his phrasing bordered on flirtation.

Taking a deep breath to suppress her embarrassment and anger, Lan Yi said, “Your Highness should show some restraint.”

Prince Yi’s expression remained unchanged. His tall stature exuded an air of solemn dignity whether seated or standing, leaving no room for suspicion of frivolity or impropriety.

His voice was steady and firm, though his words told another story: “I do have such intentions.”

Lan Yi’s heart sank like a stone.

She had briefly entertained a suspicion but quickly dismissed it out of shame—she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a long time. Prolonged illness had left her increasingly gaunt and pale, and she no longer wished to see her own reflection.

To think Prince Yi might harbor any interest in her in such a state seemed like delusional vanity.

Yet reality proved her wrong—it wasn’t that she had overthought, but that she had vastly underestimated Prince Yi’s decisiveness and overestimated his character.

“I thought Your Highness was a kind and honorable gentleman.”

Lan Yi laughed bitterly as she spoke.

Since being confined to Prince Yi’s residence, aside from being barred from leaving, she had never been mistreated or disrespected. Countless medicinal tonics and supplements had been provided for her. Though she knew Prince Yi must have ulterior motives, she had never felt any animosity toward him—until now.

Prince Yi remained unmoved. “You’ve severed ties with your husband’s family and been cast aside by your own. Where else can you go if not here? I’m offering you the status of a consort—it’s no disgrace.”

He even knew about the Lu family’s affairs.

Lan Yi wasn’t entirely surprised, but she felt as though a vast net had been cast over her head. She didn’t know when it had been laid or what it was meant to catch.

She pushed the thought aside and shook her head. “I won’t remarry. The world is vast—there must be a place for me.”

“With just the three of you women?” Prince Yi’s tone was detached, merely observational, yet it carried a hint of mockery. “You wouldn’t last three days beyond Qingzhou before being sold off by bandits.”

Lan Yi chuckled dryly. “Why scare me, Your Highness? I wasn’t raised as a sheltered noble lady. I’ve seen what the world outside is like.”

Her words held deeper meaning—her knowledge wasn’t limited to life but extended beyond death. She was confident she could live independently with her maids. There was no need to elaborate on that to Prince Yi.

Her refusal was resolute. Prince Yi studied her for a moment before calmly asking, “What if I insist?”

Lan Yi matched his calm. “Does Your Highness think I fear death?”

A delicate silver scissors appeared in her hand—left behind earlier by Cui Cui while mending her sash, and the reason Lan Yi had chosen this spot to stand. Without hesitation, she drove it toward her heart.

Prince Yi abruptly stood up and strode over in two steps. His large, sturdy hand reached out, enveloping Lan Yi’s hand along with the silver scissors. Everything happened too quickly—he couldn’t retract his momentum in time, and the scissor tip pierced his wrist.  

A dot of red seeped out, soon forming a thin line of blood that trailed down Prince Yi’s arm, staining his sleeve cuff.  

Lan Yi: “…”  

Ignoring the injury, Prince Yi forcefully pried open her fingers and took the scissors away.  

Lan Yi couldn’t stay composed. She had no intention of assassinating royalty—she hadn’t even truly meant to kill herself. She simply had no bargaining chips and could only gamble with her own life to demonstrate her resolve and deter Prince Yi. She never expected this outcome.  

During the struggle, Prince Yi’s blood also smeared onto her hand. Coming to her senses, Lan Yi trembled as she rushed out to call for help.  

Given Prince Yi’s status, he was clearly unaccustomed to injuries.  

Thus, the commotion was immense.  

Even Eunuch Dou, whom Lan Yi hadn’t seen since entering the residence, hurried over, lamenting in distress: “In all these years, His Highness has only been injured twice—and both times by your hand! You—ah!”  

“…” Lan Yi didn’t actually think she was at fault, but seeing Prince Yi surrounded by attendants and his wrist being treated—bloodied cloths discarded nearby—she did feel a twinge of guilt.  

She had anticipated being stopped, so she hadn’t held back. The wound appeared small but was actually deep; otherwise, it wouldn’t have bled so much.  

“Aiyo, be gentle! Old Meng, is His Highness’ injury serious?”  

Imperial Physician Meng, accustomed to all manner of ailments and wounds, remained calm. “Not serious. Just avoid water and exertion for ten days, and it’ll heal fine.”  

Eunuch Dou remained uneasy, sighing repeatedly.  

Jian Su and the other maids worked silently, fetching warm water, cleaning the cloths, and assisting Physician Meng in preparing medicinal powder for the wound, bustling about without pause.  

Finally, the bleeding on Prince Yi’s wrist stopped. Once cleaned, a small puncture could be seen, the surrounding flesh slightly torn. Eunuch Dou took one glance and sucked in a sharp breath before glaring at Lan Yi. “How could you strike so viciously? In terms of status, character, or appearance, is our prince unworthy of you? In every way, he surpasses that former husband of yours!”  

His comparison was so bizarre that Lan Yi was momentarily speechless. She wanted to refute but didn’t know where to begin—nor did she care to revisit the past.  

“This common woman has no intention of remarrying,” she finally reiterated.  

“Are you afraid of gossip?” Eunuch Dou speculated. “What does that matter? The Yang family sought higher status first—well, not that it was much higher. They poisoned you, tried to kill you! It was His Highness who sent someone to save you, granting you a second life. You already divorced Yang Wen Xu. Marrying the prince now violates no propriety. Even if this were debated in the imperial court, not a single official could find fault after all their squabbling. The Emperor has already granted His Highness permission—what’s the issue?”  

Lan Yi ignored his lengthy speech, focusing on the key point. “The court officials? The Emperor—has an edict truly been issued?”  

Eunuch Dou nodded. “His Highness already told you? Well, you ought to know. The decree-bearing eunuch has arrived in Qingzhou and will enter the residence tomorrow. Madam, you should stop resisting.”  

It wasn’t Prince Yi who had told her—it was the Little Prince.  

But it made no difference, because it was real.  

While she was recuperating, Prince Yi hadn’t been idle. He had woven an airtight net from the start. Only now did she realize—it was far too late.

Eunuch Dou turned back to watch as Prince Yi’s wound was bandaged, lamenting a few more words before the prince, annoyed by his chatter, shooed him away. Imperial Physician Meng and the others soon withdrew as well.

Prince Yi slowly flexed his wrist.  

To show his diligence, Imperial Physician Meng had wrapped the injury layer upon layer until it resembled a rice dumpling, effectively restricting his movement.  

Prince Yi wasn’t particularly impressed. Lan Yi sat quietly, her peripheral vision catching him suddenly pulling at the bandages and unwinding two layers.  

Lan Yi: “…”  

The silver scissors she had earlier been wrested from lay on the table beside Prince Yi. He picked them up and snipped off the excess cloth.  

But he couldn’t rebind the wound properly with just one hand.  

He looked up: “Come here.”  

No name was specified, but with only Lan Yi remaining in the hall, there was no one else he could be addressing.  

Lan Yi hesitated briefly. Understanding his meaning—the request wasn’t unreasonable—she rose and approached, bending slightly to help rewrap the bandages.  

Her fingers accidentally brushed against his. Despite having lost so much blood, his hand was still warm, while hers remained icy cold.  

The scissors were within reach, but Lan Yi didn’t touch them. Her earlier resolve had waned—she wasn’t truly intent on dying, and repeating the act would be pointless.  

Once finished, she withdrew her hands and stepped back.  

“Might this humble commoner ask what use Your Highness finds in someone as insignificant as myself?”  

This wasn’t a question Lan Yi had originally intended to ask. She had never planned to stay at Prince Yi’s Residence and thus saw no need to understand him or involve herself in its affairs.  

But now she had no choice.  

She was trapped in a net with little hope of escape.  

Prince Yi pondered for a moment before replying, “What were your intentions when you appeared outside my Secluded Chamber that day?”  

Lan Yi stiffened in alarm.  

Meeting his clear gaze, she instantly realized two things: First, her excuse at the time hadn’t fooled him. Second, this was an exchange.  

Prince Yi wouldn’t answer her question, and she likewise didn’t have to answer his.  

A third, unspoken implication dawned on her—agreeing to this exchange meant accepting Prince Yi’s terms.  

Staying in Prince Yi’s Residence as this inexplicable “Madam.”  

—Earlier, when Jian Su and the others had addressed her as such, she had assumed it was simply due to her married status.  

Lan Yi didn’t deliberate long before deciding to refuse again.  

Stories of repaying life-saving favors with one’s body belonged in folktales—she wasn’t that kind of person, and Prince Yi didn’t seem the type to indulge such foolishness either.  

But as if sensing her thoughts, before she could speak, Prince Yi added, “Your past private matters need not concern me.” After a pause, he traced the wound on his wrist and uttered his next words in a low voice, “Nor will you be required to share my bed.”  

“…”  

Lan Yi was genuinely surprised. Her first thought was that, given his character, it couldn’t have been easy for him to voice what amounted to a concession—likely a benefit she’d earned by risking her life.  

Then came a sense of inevitability—of course, his motives weren’t romantic.  

Silent, Lan Yi raised her head and studied Prince Yi carefully for the first time.

Unlike Yang Wen Xu’s refined and handsome demeanor, Prince Yi was a stark contrast in both appearance and temperament, with an almost domineering presence that seemed to radiate from him. The initial impression of otherworldly detachment was merely an illusion created by his Taoist robes. Upon closer acquaintance, one would quickly realize the authoritative essence formed by his status, position, and innate personality.

Oddly enough, despite this, the prince didn’t exert as much oppressive force on her as Yang Wen Xu had. Yang Wen Xu had actually spoken many gentle words and lowered himself on numerous occasions, yet in the end, he drove her to her death. Her resentment lingered, transforming her into a Fierce Ghost, which allowed her rebirth.

Prince Yi’s long, powerful fingers tapped on the table, revealing his impatience.

His patience had never been great. Given his status, he rarely had to wait for anyone.

Lan Yi lowered her gaze.

It was time for her to pay the price. She didn’t doubt Prince Yi’s credibility. The impending Imperial Edict could serve as unusual evidence—if he merely intended to deceive her, there would be no need to involve the Emperor himself.

She wasn’t worth that much.

Who was, Lan Yi didn’t know. But she knew Prince Yi wouldn’t answer even if she asked.

“Must I remain confined to this courtyard forever?” she finally asked, changing the subject.

Prince Yi replied, “No. After tomorrow, you may go anywhere within or outside the residence.”

So he had confined her only until the Imperial Mandate of Honor was issued—a done deal.

Lan Yi couldn’t help feeling resentful. She clenched her palm and glanced at Prince Yi’s wrist.

Never mind.

Let him have his way.

Her memories from her past life told her this cage wouldn’t be permanent.

If, within the agreed time, Prince Yi were to break his promise—well, that wouldn’t be a major issue. The Yang family’s story might just repeat itself in Prince Yi’s Residence.

No special reason—just well-practiced skill.

Author’s Note:

Lan Yi: Experience +1, Power Gauge +1