Font Size:
The carriage was silent, so still that the only sounds were the two of them breathing.
Mu Shengsheng bit her lip and curled up in the corner, cautiously watching the man. She trembled, unsure of what to do.
After a moment of thought, she figured out her situation: to survive, the only option was to cling to Lan Xun.
Though she had miraculously escaped yesterday, her stepmother and the Duke of Zhenguo’s household would not let her go easily. Before her father returned to the capital, only Lan Xun could protect her. More importantly, she needed to touch his body to extend her life.
Though this “Living Yama” was terrifying, to Mu Shengsheng, it was far less frightening than being buried alive with a corpse.
She took a deep breath and knelt, performing a formal bow. “Thank you, Regency Prince, for saving me. I have no way to repay this kindness… I am willing to serve as your humble handmaiden in any way you wish.”
Lan Xun scoffed coldly. “With your sickly appearance, what could you possibly do?”
Mu Shengsheng could barely lift her hands, barely bear weight on her shoulders, and she gasped with every step. Her legs gave out every three steps, looking so frail she might be blown away by a gust of wind, possibly needing Lan Xun to assign several people to tend to her.
Aside from her beauty, she was useless.
But survival mattered more than pride. She said, “Though weak and sickly, I have studied music, chess, painting, calligraphy, poetry, and etiquette. I often prepared my father’s writing materials, served tea, recited scriptures, and solved minor tasks. Your Highness, any request, I can fulfill.”
Lan Xun did not rush to state his conditions. Leaning back casually, he asked, “Tell me, why is the Duke of Zhenguo’s household chasing you?”
Mu Shengsheng considered fabricating a story to deceive him, but Lan Xun’s sharp warning stopped her: “If I discover even a hint of falsehood, I will throw you from this carriage immediately.”
Caught in his gaze, as if he could see into her heart, Mu Shengsheng knew she could not lie. She confessed honestly: “I dare not deceive Your Highness. I am the daughter of the Xuanwu Marquis, Mu Pingchuan. Yesterday, my stepmother, taking advantage of my father being away from the capital, cruelly tried to send me to the Duke of Zhenguo’s household for a ghost marriage. I escaped on the way, which led to this encounter with Your Highness…”
Hearing that they had tried to send a living girl to accompany a corpse, Lan Xun felt contempt.
“So, serving as a maid or servant is false; seeking my protection is your true goal?”
Lan Xun likely thought he had seen through her intentions immediately. Little did he know, her only real purpose was to get close to him to find a way to extend her life; everything else was secondary.
Tears filled Mu Shengsheng’s eyes. She clutched his robe, pitifully begging, “They will not relent until they achieve their goal. I have nowhere to go. I only ask Your Highness to shelter me for a few days, to hide from them.
“Just three days—only three days. After that, my father will return to the capital and will handle everything for me. I beg you, Your Highness…”
Her father had gone to find doctors for her, and in three days, it would be her sixteenth birthday. He knew how important the day was; he would certainly return—even if only to see her one last time.
After a long pause, Lan Xun finally relented. “I can agree to let you stay in the residence for three days.”
Lan Xun was not a particularly kind man, but the Duke of Zhenguo’s household had long opposed him and caused him trouble. How could he tolerate them running amok right under his nose?
Mu Shengsheng was overjoyed. She knelt repeatedly. “Thank you, Your Highness, for your mercy.”
“However…” Lan Xun added, “I have a condition as well.”
Mu Shengsheng leaned closer, nearly falling onto his lap, shy and timid yet gentle, whispering, “Whatever Your Highness asks, I will comply.”
Her words carried a subtle implication, making Lan Xun frown slightly, studying her anew.
She was so small and frail, with barely any curves—any force could break her. There was nothing to excite desire.
Lan Xun pulled back and said coldly, “Do not get any wrong ideas. I am not interested in you.”
Mu Shengsheng, having no other options, pushed forward anyway. The man showed no response, only asking, “Can you copy scriptures?”
She nodded. “I often copy scriptures for blessings and to pass the time.”
“I have an old book. Copy it for me.”
Mu Shengsheng, knowing it was only copying, felt a strange hope. She bowed again. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
She knelt there for a long time. Lan Xun raised his sleeve. “Rise.”
Her legs had gone numb from kneeling too long. As she struggled to stand, her knees gave way, almost causing her to fall. At that moment, the carriage jolted over something on the road, and Mu Shengsheng toppled into his arms, landing on his lap.
This accidental embrace was not intentional, yet she felt the mysterious energy flowing from him again, boosting her vitality. Strangely, though, her life count did not increase.
Had she been doing it wrong?
Mu Shengsheng could not figure it out, unaware of Lan Xun’s unusual reaction.
After two accidental embraces, the touch of her soft, fragile body—like it could melt in his arms—mixed with a faint herbal scent from her, made the small, cramped carriage suffocatingly hot.
A trace of crimson appeared in Lan Xun’s eyes. Even in the cool autumn, a bead of sweat slid down his forehead. His mouth was dry, throat tight.
He clenched his fists, suppressing something, his voice hoarse. “Do you know what it means that men and women should not touch?”
Only then did Mu Shengsheng realize, attempting to rise. Halfway up, her legs failed again. Flustered, she said, “Your Highness, I did not mean to… I was kneeling too long, my legs went numb…”
Feeling something pressing behind her, Mu Shengsheng thought bitterly that Lan Xun was extremely alert—he even carried a dagger at his waist.
Lan Xun’s face darkened further. Did she even know what she was doing?