Three consecutive slaps left the atmosphere taut, as if about to explode, the maids and eunuchs beside them pale with fear.
Shen Yaojin's left cheek was slightly swollen, clearly showing the force Shen Yue had exerted.
Shen Yaojin's face turned terrifyingly cold. Under Shen Yue's icy gaze, he slowly loosened his grip, a violent aura tightly entwined within his brow.
A red mark was left on her pale, fragile wrist. Shen Yue twisted it, feeling a sharp sting. She stood up, cast a cold glance at Shen Yaojin, said nothing, and left.
The snow had stopped. Layer upon layer of snow accumulated on the branches, bending them low.
As Shen Yue stepped out, a cold wind blew, lifting her hair, with a few strands sticking to her face.
Not long after, Shen Yaojin followed her out.
He watched Shen Yue's slender back. The outside was a expanse of white snow, and she remained in her dark cloak, a stark contrast.
Fu An stood nearby, quietly waiting.
As if sensing his gaze, Shen Yue turned slightly and looked back. Her eyes were covered by a thick layer of frost, eerily indifferent and calm.
Shen Yaojin's fingers, hanging at his side, couldn't help but clench.
He pursed his lips, his expression somewhat somber.
The chill permeated and dampened her long, dense eyelashes.
She lowered her eyes, her crow-feather-like lashes dark and rich, casting a faint shadow.
In a moment of daze, she seemed to smile.
Adorned with a mole beneath her eyelid, she was like a painting, rich in ink and color.
"The fool has become much smarter."
It was as if he was teasing, dispelling a hint of the chill.
Fool, fool.
Shen Yaojin's heart suddenly pounded, making it difficult to breathe. He tried hard to dispel the images in his mind; they were not pleasant memories. He wanted to endure, but his face still turned deathly pale.
Intentional, forgotten memories, not to be thought of, firmly locked in the deepest part of his heart.
Yet, this seemingly hard shell was utterly crushed by Shen Yue's words.
His expression turned fierce, his aura imposing, his eyes dark and shadowed.
The youth with ink-black clothes and snow-white skin had striking eyes. His lips, vividly colored, slowly curved into a subtle arc, a shallow dimple by his mouth, as if very happy.
"Not bad."
It seemed to carry a hint of faint, tender indulgence, or perhaps resignation: "You've grown up."
Indeed, she had grown up, discovering Shen Yue's weakness.
It was Shen Yue who had underestimated Shen Yaojin.
And Shen Yaojin had exceeded his expectations.
After saying this, Shen Yue turned and walked step by step onto the snow, leaving fresh footprints.
Shen Yaojin quietly watched Shen Yue's departing back. The emotion on his face was indescribable, whether coldness or some other sentiment, his deep eyes grew increasingly somber.
He closed his eyes. The cold wind whipped against his face, a biting pain.
Shen Yaojin went to Chengqian Hall. Coincidentally, he saw Shen Yue with Cheng Qian Gong.
He didn't know how to begin.
All he knew was that Shen Yue was very different in front of Cheng Qian Gong, her eyes seemed to hold light, and there was not a trace of gloom about her.
He found it absurd but watched from the side for a long time.
Shen Yue was very close to the man, as if sharing secrets or sweet nothings. The man, who had a cold expression, somehow listened to something that made his ear tips subtly blush, the faint flush spreading to his face as his expression tightened.
Those dark, moist eyes were like a lake shimmering with golden light at dusk, filled with tenderness, admiration, and a hint of shyness.
How strange.
Shen Yue could actually show such an expression. He thought Shen Yue had no heart.
He couldn't describe the feeling, but it was as if something was burning in his chest, churning like embers, the fiery flames spreading to his limbs.
Then, in a moment of daze, he felt cold, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar. Bone-chilling frost formed ice cubes, freezing his blood.
He actually felt like laughing, but when he tugged at his lips, he found it impossible to even form a slight curve.
So...
Shen Yue did have a heart.
He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the throne. It was just that he didn't want Shen Yue to succeed.
He wanted to see Shen Yue beg at his feet to repent, wanted to see Shen Yue apologize with tears streaming down her face, wanted Shen Yue to grovel like a dog, begging for mercy.
Shen Yue sensed his presence and looked over.
Shen Yaojin's expression was calm. He said nothing and walked away.
—
The night was dark and cold. Outside the window, the twilight was silent and cool.
Shen Yue had caught a cold again these past few days, often unable to resist a soft cough, though it wasn't serious.
She didn't go to Qingyue Hall, telling Cheng Qian Gong in a very ordinary tone that her cold might infect him.
Cheng Qian Gong's eyes were clear and indifferent. His figure was like that of pine and bamboo, as if nothing in the world could break his peace.
He didn't ask, merely said "Alright" softly.
Shen Yue thought it must have been difficult for Cheng Qian Gong to confine himself to such a small place for nearly a year, and to be constantly bothered and pestered by someone like her.
It must have been a painful experience.
The window was tightly shut, not allowing a single gust of cold wind to enter.
Looking at the letter in her hand, it was a triumphant report from Huo Dao.
It simply described the border situation in plain language, without any other words.
Shen Yue picked up her brush. Halfway through writing, she felt an itch in her throat and coughed softly.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
Shen Yue put down her brush, folded the letter, and her voice was a little hoarse from just coughing.
"Enter."
The door was pushed open. A cold wind blew in, only to be quickly blocked outside.
Cheng Qian Gong walked in.
Shen Yue slightly raised her gaze. Her black hair was lazily spread over her shoulders. She propped her chin with her slender, snow-white fingers, which were beautiful and clean.
In the warm light, her hair seemed to be tinged with a halo.
She looked at him as he approached, as if with tenderness.
Cheng Qian Gong's still heart seemed to be struck by something. A swift current surged through his eyes.
He walked over, holding a bowl of steaming medicine.
Before he was close, Shen Yue could smell the bitter scent of the medicine.
"Your Highness, it's time for your medicine."
The man's voice was like cold wind infused with frost, indifferent and calm.
Shen Yue lowered her eyelashes, took the bowl of medicine, and the intense bitterness made her frown. She pursed her lips and drank it in one gulp.
The medicine was bitter, and Shen Yue detested it.
Cheng Qian Gong seemed to have prepared for this and took out a small bag of preserved fruit.
Shen Yue paused, then ate two pieces, but they still didn't dispel the bitterness in her mouth.
Not sweet, not sweet at all.
Cheng Qian Gong didn't leave immediately. He looked at the young girl with his usual detached gaze. Although the room was filled with warmth, the girl's face remained pale and sickly. Around her exquisitely beautiful eyebrows, there seemed to be a faint aura of illness.